A/N This is a story for all you Dead fans who love Rick Grimes as much as I do. I hope you enjoy this trip back to the early days when his hair was short and his ethics ran deep. Maybe this time the love of a very special woman can keep him from becoming the monster he fights so hard not to be.

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the world of The Walking Dead. (But it doesn't stop me from dreaming about its sexy sheriff!)

Enjoy…

Chapter One

The sharp smell of antiseptic almost masks the strong scent of fear and frustration clinging to the turquoise blue paint of the pediatric ward of Atlanta's Northside hospital. Two years at Northside, Erin Butler can still taste the heartache and pity that floats down the corridor leading up to the nurse's station at the center of the wing. Walking briskly past a brightly colored mural of cheerful sea creatures meant to inspire glee during a less than joyful time, Erin chews on her bottom lip as the occasional beep and random chirp echo about the honeycomb of rooms that make up the unit.

Her three mile morning jog along the Chattahoochee River had done little to ease her concern for six year old Danny Taylor, admitted three days ago with stage II non-Hodgkin lymphoma. She was fond of every child inhabiting the ward, but little Danny had wormed his way deep into her heart with his toothless grin and bite me attitude.

"Hey, Erin! Wait up."

Turning at the sound of her friend's voice, Erin stops just before the nurses station where she was hoping to get a good report on Danny. "Hi Liz. What's up?" Erin asks, pulling her long auburn waves into a loose pony tail as she watches Elizabeth Martin hustling toward her, reminding her of their early days as fresh new registered nurses in the emergency room at Northside, fast on their feet and eager to learn.

"They want you downstairs today," her friend informs her. "I guess you didn't get your pager fixed yet, huh?"

"Just got a new one this morning," Erin replies, indignant. "That's why I'm late getting up here." She pulls the beeper from the pocket of her burgundy scrubs, green eyes glaring at the small rectangular screen that should be displaying the time and date if nothing else, but for some reason is refusing to do so. "Son of a bitch," she murmurs, lips pursed tightly inside a frown.

"Well, we're short staffed in the pit this morning and Reynolds asked for you personally."

"Fine," she replies semi-genially, accepting that she would be an obvious choice since she was an E.R. nurse before switching to pediatrics, though she is not looking forward to another crazy Sunday in the Emergency Room. Weekends are the worst and the fact that it's a holiday will make it completely insane.

Before hurrying off with Liz, Erin turns to the older woman sitting behind the large counter decked with several fake plants to add warmth to the atmosphere. "Alice, how's Danny doing?" she asks hopefully, holding her breath for good news.

"Same as last night. I'll send word if anything changes," Alice answers, moving a stack of patient files from one side of the circular desk to the other. "And I'll let Kathy know where you'll be," she adds, referring to the head nurse.

"Thanks."

Entering the elevator, her friend brushes her blonde bangs out of her eyes and reaches over to depress the round button marked One to deliver them to the first floor. "So did Tim get off on Thursday for the Braves game?"

"Yeah. He switched his shift with someone so he'll be able to come with us." Erin's thoughts drift to her boyfriend of eighteen months as she watches the numbers steadily decrease above the elevator door. A radiology technician in the same hospital, Tim Jameson was looking to move their relationship to the next level, despite her misgivings on the subject. She'd been avoiding the topic for the past month, steering around any talk of marriage whenever he brought it up. She knows he is getting impatient to make that commitment but she's just not sure that they should. Yes, she ought to be jumping at the chance, but she just can't seem to lift her feet.

For several agonizing years, when the odds of a future with a great guy and a white picket fence were stacked heavily against her, all she had wanted was a simple life and someone to grow old with. Now, her fairly simple life is going well, but is Tim the one she'll be seeing through her bifocals in the rocker next to hers in fifty years? Is he really the one and is it really their time right now? Will her inability to have children eventually drive them apart even though he promises that he's okay with it? Is that a chance she is willing to take? Or is it just an excuse that allows her to keep dragging her feet toward that proverbial fence.

Never good at hiding her feelings, she isn't surprised when her friend's voice breaks into her thoughts asking, "Is he still pressuring you to get married?"

"Not exactly," Erin sighs as the elevator doors slide open on the first floor. "He says he'll settle for just moving in together for now."

"So move in with him," Liz continues the conversation as she tries to keep up with Erin's long strides as they walk swiftly down the beige hallway leading to the emergency room.

Hearing the slight wheeze in Liz's voice, Erin slows her pace for her plus size friend. At a smidge over five feet tall with vast curves that could stop an army and the mouth to rival a drill sergeant, Liz stands half a foot shorter than Erin but carries herself with such confidence that her stout frame gives the impression that she could actually look down at a professional basketball player.

"You're not getting any younger you know,"Liz chides with a half-hearted elbow in Erin's ribs.

"I'm only twenty-six! And everything is good the way it is, why should we screw that up?"

"Come on, Erin… you know you love each other and it wouldn't screw anything up. Are you still worried that he's gonna regret not having kids of his own someday?"

"He says he's fine with adopting and I believe him," she answers, trying to convince herself of that statement. "And just because I may love him doesn't mean I'm in any rush to wash his underwear," she quips as she pushes through the double doors of the already buzzing emergency room.

Three hours and countless contusions, cuts and coughs later, Erin opens the curtain on an inebriated Easter bunny. According to his chart from the triage nurse, fifty-four year old Russell Johnson has a laceration on his left temple, for which he cannot recall the cause. He was driven to the hospital by a maintenance worker from the mall, but from the smell of alcohol emanating from the white furry rabbit suit, Erin doubts he would remember even that much.

"Okay, Mr. Johnson - ," she begins, hoping to get through this as quickly as possible.

"Ooh pretty girl, come sit on my lap. I've got a nice carrot stick for you," he interrupts, glossy eyes leering at Erin as he lifts the head of the costume off of his groin. "Too bad you're not wearin' one a them slutty nurse outfits. My fav'rite fantasy," he slurs, to her disgust.

"God help me," she murmurs under her breath as she reaches for the infrared thermometer to take his temperature. Turning back to her patient, she continues, "That's a nice gash on your forehead." She nods to the thin stream of blood and perspiration dripping down the side of his face due to the absence of the bandage he refuses to leave on."Let's get your vitals and then I'll clean it out so the doctor can stitch you up."

Though she could handle the task as a second year student in the Physician's Assistant program, Erin is more than happy to hand over this man's stitching to one of the doctors.

"Ya wanna take my tem'ture? Lemme drop my pants for you," he laughs with a lecherous smirk and Erin desperately misses the sweet innocence of the pediatric ward.

"No, that won't be necessary." Thank God. "You just have to hold still and your ear will tell me what I need to know." Holding the device just inside the shell of his ear, she suddenly feels a large, sweaty hand on the cheek of her butt.

Removing the thermometer slowly, she reins her Scottish temper, pastes a brilliantly sweet smile on her face and very calmly responds to his gesture, "If you don't get your fucking hand off my ass, the doctor will be sewing up two big gashes on your head."

"Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Erin feels a quick squeeze before he pulls his arm back in surrender at the thunderous glare she levels him with. "Cut the shit, Bugs, or I will be happy to let you bleed to death," she threatens solemnly.

Shivering with revulsion, she records his temperature of 98.9 and lifts his wrist to check his pulse, doing her best to ignore his comments about her dexterous fingers.

Wrapping the blood pressure cuff tightly around his furry arm, she squeezes the bulb until it is completely, and painfully – to her satisfaction, inflated. His vitals are a little off but not dangerously so, and nothing that a good amount of coffee couldn't fix.

Preparing to clean the wound on his head, Erin presses a moist cloth over the area, soaking up the oozing blood and beads of sweat covering his temple. Expecting more vulgar comments that she is more than ready to ignore, she is completely taken aback to feel a slight pressure against her breast. Instinctively, and quite unprofessionally, she whips her elbow against his jaw, knocking his head back and rendering him blessedly speechless as the drunken man passes out cold.

She turns quickly, scanning the area with prayers that nobody had witnessed the assault on her patient, no matter that he deserved it. Thankfully, she sees the hustle and bustle of the trauma center continuing to thrum blindly around her... until she notices the King County police officer watching her from the admit desk about twenty feet away. Their eyes connect. Her belly sinks.

Fuck.

Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes can't stop the smile from lifting the corner of his mouth as he gives a brief nod to the frustrated young nurse. It may have been illegal, certainly unethical, but the bastard had it coming from what Rick could tell and he was not about to give her a hard time for defending herself. If she hadn't, he was a split second away from throttling the rabbit himself, his tensed shoulders already leaning in her direction.

He was just grateful that his partner hadn't witnessed the scene. Not that he would reprimand the nurse either, but it would have given Shane an excuse to talk to – and ultimately hit on – the pretty redhead.

With nice curves on a trim athletic body beneath the burgundy scrubs, she is not the standard voluptuous starlet that Shane usually goes for, but Rick knows that wouldn't stop the man from trying. Her pretty face is all he would need to see for her to become a blip on his radar. But not today. Not her. She's had enough insensitive advances for one day and he'll do whatever is necessary to spare her further aggravation from his womanizing friend.

Relaxing the hands that he didn't even realize had tightened into fists, Rick smiles at her deer-in-the-headlights expression and quickly looks away as the deep voice of Deputy Shane Walsh reaches his ears.

"Sheila says she'll call if they need anything else." Rick's partner runs his hand through his thick black hair and glances in the direction that Rick was not quick enough to hide. "Nice," Shane offers, looking back at him with a wry smile.

"Come on." Rick takes a few deliberate steps toward the waiting room with hopes that his partner will follow his lead.

"You get her number?" his best friend continues as he falls in step beside Rick as they make their way past the multitude of patients sprawled about the chairs as they miserably wait their turn.

"We gotta stop by old Mr. Figgins' place. Seems the boys took a bat to his mailbox again," Rick informs him while doing his best to ignore his goading.

"Come on, man. When are you gonna put yourself out there again? It's been almost two years since you and Lori split. It's time to stop warmin' the bench and swing for a homerun." With his tongue in his cheek, Shane swings an imaginary bat and then gyrates his hips to illustrate his meaning.

Rick shakes his head with a chuckle at his friend's gestures. At least Shane isn't flirting with my nurse. Wait, what?! When did the redhead become My nurse?

With several confusing blinks, he shakes off the sudden feeling of fierce protectiveness that flows through his bloodstream. He turns his attention back to his partner, back to solid ground. Annoying, but solid ground. "Maybe I like my spot on the bench. Keeps me out of trouble and gives me more time with my son."

"You takin' Carl down to the cabin next weekend? Did you get the roof patched up yet?" Shane asks as they walk across the parking lot toward their patrol car, the siren of a nearby ambulance getting louder and louder as it shrieks through the midday heat.

"Yeah, I got up there the other day. Hopefully that'll be the last leak." Rick opens the driver's side door and slides behind the wheel as Shane takes the passenger seat.

"Yeah, you say that every time. Come on, you know you'll be back up there by the end of summer."

"I know," Rick exhales a defeated sigh. "I'll be patching that damn roof 'til I'm seventy, just like my grandpa. But if it keeps Carl happy, I won't complain." He smiles, thinking of all the weekends he'd spent at his grandfather's cabin on the bank of Hawkins Lake in Woodland. His mother's dad was a tough old bird that Rick had feared when he was very young, and then grew to respect as an early teen when his own father was either too drunk - or too annoyed that he wasn't drunk – to spend time with his family. They drifted apart for a time when Rick had gone through a rebellious stage after his father had left them, but reconnected and were closer than ever by his late teens. He is eternally grateful to his stepdad for that. He has many fond memories of the old cedar cabin, as well as the old man, and he hopes to continue the weekend camping-fishing-hunting traditions with Carl. If he could just keep the damn roof from collapsing in on them.

Erin had held her breath until the cop gave her a short nod with a half-smile. And then his lips spread even further into a true grin that made her belly flutter with relief. She couldn't believe it. He actually smiled! Oh, thank you baby Jesus! Watching the officer lead his partner out of the building, she regained some hope that there were at least a few good, decent people in the world. Smiling at the notion, she returned to her task of cleaning Mr. Johnson's temple while soft snores rose from his inert form.

She did not think of the officer again until she was back in the pit three days later…

Looking up from the chart of a woman with abdominal pain, Erin sees a team of paramedics rushing thru the E.R. with a gurney that holds the motionless body of the cop with the nice smile. From the urgency of their actions, and the deeply concerned look on his partner's face, she knows that it is bad. The little flutter in her belly dips in sympathy.