My first (and probably only) Rick/OC story, wow.

This idea has been bouncing around in my thoughts for awhile as I love The Walking Dead so much and I know that Rick deserves some much needed love. Granted, he has Michonne now but I want to explore the idea of someone who isn't Michonne and honestly, there aren't many Rick/OC stories on this website, which is heartbreaking because Rick is absolutely a magnificent character.

Disclaimer: The Walking Dead does not belong to me in any shape or form.

Enjoy!

I was able to eat an entire box of Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies in one sitting – not the chewy kind, or the fudge filled ones but the original Chips Ahoy cookies. As I ate the cookies, my head was always buried deep inside a textbook that described how one's organs gradually shut down when he or she contracts acquired immunodeficiency syndrome and how there is no known cure. The cookies were done, along with the chapter and I moved onto the next one, taking notes, absorbing details, and knowing that spending hours on one chapter will prove to be the best decision I have ever made.

But that was then, and this is now.

"Peyt," I heard Patricia call my name. I turned around from the vegetables that I was chopping up for tonight's dinner. I sighed as I stared at her putting on her work gloves, knowing what she was about to do. "Wanna' help me with the barn?"

I shook my head, turning back to the tomato I was currently chopping, and said, "We're not supposed to keep them alive."

"You know," oh God, I could feel a speech coming, "your mom and brother are in there. We're just waiting for a cure." I scoffed, not replying. "You've changed a whole lot since you came back from Columbia, since -"

"Since what?" I snarled, turning around to glare at the older blonde woman. She suddenly looked uncomfortable, knowing she had no right to bring up my past as it was none of her business.

"Peyt, I didn't mean -" Patricia softly started before being interrupted by my younger sister.

"What's going on here?" Beth asked.

"Nothing," I whispered, looking back at Patricia. I gave her a forgiving look and said, "It's alright, just a misunderstanding." I smiled softly at Beth, "Sweetie, why don't you and Jimmy help me prepare dinner?"

Beth playfully rolled her eyes and said, walking up to me, "Peyt, I'm not a 'sweetie'."

I let out a small chuckle and wrapped my arm around her, "I am a decade older than you, Beth. You peed in my face when I was 11 and traumatized me till I was 13. You're my sweetie."

The blonde teen groaned into my shoulder, and grumbled, "You always throw that back in my face! I was 11, Peyton, I couldn't control my bladder!"

I wholeheartedly laughed and tightened my hold on her, not quite believing that our father decided to shelter her. Beth Greene was practically an adult in my book and she deserved to know what was out there, what was happening out there. She's 16; she's no longer daddy's little girl, if only our father could see the same.

"Dad!" Maggie's worried shout from outside echoed inside the large farm house. Beth and I glanced at each other before we heard our father get off his chair that he was lounging on in the living room and storming out the front door to the porch. Jimmy followed him, cradling a bat in his hands and the rest of us trailing behind.

I couldn't help but gasp at the scene I saw, a man in a sheriff's hat carrying a young boy, who – even from my distance of being almost ten yards – looked paler than a dying man. I could tell that it wasn't the man's blood that cloaked his own shirt but the boy's.

"Was he bit?" My father, who stood tall at a staggering six feet, asked as he watched the man approach us.

"Shot," the man yelled, his voice cracking, "by your man."

"Otis?" I heard Patricia exclaim but it seemed distant as I quickly ran past my father to the man and who seemed to be his son.

"He said, 'find Hershel and Peyton', is that you?!" The sheriff glanced at me as he saw me place my hand over his son's clammy forehead. I turned to look back at my father, looking for any reason to not help this boy but then heard the man plea, "Help him! Please help my boy!"

And I knew, at that instant, I knew I was going to do everything to save his child.

I nodded without a second thought and grabbed the man's wrist with my father in tow.

I rapidly said, "Get him inside! Daddy, I'm gonna' need your help with this." My father was by my side in an instant as I guided the sheriff into the spare bedroom on the first floor.

"Patricia, bring dad's kit, his full kit." I demanded, still making our way to the spare bedroom, walking past the dining hall. "Maggie?!"

"Yeah?" She responded, just as anxious.

"Grab painkillers, coagulates – everything!" The four of us walked into the spare bedroom and my father yanked off the cover and gestured the sheriff to place his son on the bed as I continued to list off my materials, "Clean towels, sheets, alcohol!"

"Pillowcase," I told my father, who quickly made haste to create a makeshift pad. I lifted the boy's shirt and grimaced at the size of the bullet wound, wondering if there was an exit hole but from the looks of it, it seemed like there wasn't.

"I-is he alive?" The sheriff shakily asked me.

I glanced at him and gave him the pad my father made, saying, "Fold it and put pressure on the wound." The man did as said and I couldn't help but feel my heart break as I wondered who in the hell deserved this – to watch their child get shot.

"Sweetheart," I heard my father call. I turned around and saw the stethoscope he was giving to me that was given to him by Patricia. I quickly took it from him and immediately placed the buds in my ear, crouching down close to the young brunette boy, searching for a heartbeat.

It took a few seconds but I let out a small sigh of relief and looked up at the sheriff, saying, "I've got a heartbeat but it's faint."

"I've got it," my dad suddenly cut in, placing a towel over the pillowcase that the sheriff was holding. "Step back sir, we're gonna' need some space."

I almost rolled my eyes at my dad's command and said, "Maggie, I need an IV over here!"

Maggie did as told and brought the fluid pouch with a tube already connected to it. I wiped a small section of dirt and blood away from the boy's elbow with a cleansing pad before I pierced the needle through his skin. I placed a small amount of gauze on top of the needle and wrapped surgical tape around it.

I motioned to Maggie to take over what I was doing before standing in front of the boy's father.

The man towered over my 5'4'' height as I placed both of my hands on his shoulders and said, "You need to listen to me." He looked dazed, anxious, and terrified. But his eyes, oh my god, his eyes were the most pure bluest eyes I've ever seen but they were filled with absolute fear. "What's your name, officer?"

His eyes eventually found mine, "R-Rick."

"Rick?"

"I'm-I'm-I'm Rick," he replied shakily, his blue eyes locked on mine.

"Okay, Rick," I softly said, "my name is Peyton Greene and we are going to do whatever it takes to save your son, understand?" Rick looked like he was about to cry when I said, "But you need to give us some room, okay?"

He looked hesitant but I squeezed his shoulders in a reassuring way and demanded, in the nicest way possible, "Please, just a few minutes."

Rick slowly nodded his head, gave one last look to his son, and backed out of the room. I clenched my eyes shut before rushing over to look at the unconscious boy.

"Think we can save him?" My father asked me.

I sighed, looking around at Maggie and Patricia who was helping the wounded child, "If I have the right materials, something tells me what we have right here won't be enough for him."

"Beth, sweetie," she looked when I called her name, "can you go boil some water? I'm going to need that soon." She nodded and walked out of the room, taking Jimmy with her.

"Peyt, you performed surgery down in Mexico your second year of residency, right?" Dad asked, still applying pressure to the wound. I took his place and slowly lifted the towel with the pillowcase, trying to locate the bullet only to come across bad news.

I nodded, "Appendices, tonsils, simple things – there's about six or seven fragments of the bullet in him, daddy. I have to operate on him if he's going to survive."

"Is he not?" Maggie asked.

I slowly shook my head and sighed, "The bullet didn't go through him, it broke up inside him. There were a lot of patients like him in New York but they were never children, they were never this…fragile. But if dad and I can get the fragments out of him, this little man will be just fine."

It wasn't long before Otis, Rick, and another man who's name I did not know walked into the room. The other man and Rick seemed close, as his arm was around Rick in a comforting way. He was about Rick's height with smoldering brown eyes that seemed to have just as much fear as Rick's eyes. He cared about Rick's son just as much as the sheriff did, that much was clear.

"Is he okay?" Rick immediately asked, his blue eyes once again penetrating mine.

I let my dad take over and he asked, "You know his blood type?"

"A-positive," Rick gulped, "same as mine."

"That's fortunate," my dad replied, promisingly. "Don't wander far, we're going to need you." My father stared at Otis, who was at the door, breathing heavily and asked him, "What happened?"

"I was tracking a buck," Otis mumbled, practically shaking, "Bullet went through it, went clean through."

I bit my lip as I cut in, looking up at the two men who was tremendously troubled about this boy and said, "The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life, but it did not go through clean." I sighed, "It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out, and I counted six, your son will live."

"Lori doesn't know?" The brown eyed man asked Rick.

"No she -" Rick chocked up. "My wife doesn't know. My wife doesn't know."

I quickly managed to clean the wound with my fathers help and looked at the other two ladies in the room – Maggie and Patricia.

I sighed and looked at my father, "Pass me the forceps please."

"Sweetheart," my father started, knowing what I was going to do now, "are you sure?"

"We don't have time for any anesthetics," I sighed. "I have to at least try to remove some of the bullet fragments. It can't be lodged in his body for this long; it can't. He won't survive it."

"Peyton," Maggie started, "what're the chances of him truly surviving?"

I bit my lip anxiously, and shared a look with my dad, "If I don't have the right equipment, low…very, very low." I ran a hand through my unruly brunette hair and reached over to grab a pair of disposable gloves and passing the box to my father, watching him grab two.

I gulped before lifting the towel off the boy's wound and immediately, the child groaned in pain. I looked up in panic at my dad, who was equally concerned. Now we knew that this procedure was going to be a hell of a lot harder with the boy conscious.

"Patricia," I glanced at her. "You're going to have to hold him down." She nodded and hastily did as told. "Dad, I need you to hold the spreader."

My aging father crouched down beside me and grabbed the spreader from his kit. He hesitated before using the spreader on the child and the little boy cried out in pain, breaking my heart even further.

I whispered, running a hand through his dark hair, "I know it hurts, sweetheart, just a few more minutes. You'll be okay."

I looked up at my younger, taller sister and said, "Maggie, call Rick in; we're going to need some blood."

She nodded and did as told, as I quickly went to work to remove a single bullet fragment from the boy. The faster I got this done, the better. The boy was crying and groaning in pain when Rick and his partner came into the room.

"You -" my dad pointed at the man beside Rick, "hold him down!" The man did as told, taking Patricia's place of holding the child down and Rick was quickly taken by Patricia to get his blood taken.

I got a hold of the bullet that was deep within the boy's stomach and worked to remove it, knowing how the pain must've been unbearable to him. "Dad!" The little boy exclaimed in agony.

"Almost there, sweetie," I tried to pacify him but grimaced when he let out an ear shattering scream, followed by him sobbing and holding onto the other man's shirt.

"STOP!" Rick yelled from his place by Patricia. "You're killing him!"

"I'm saving him!" I screamed back.

"He needs blood!" Patricia cried.

"Do it now!" The man holding the boy down yelled. Then, I faintly heard Rick grunt in pain because Patricia pierced the needle through Rick's skin. The small brunette boy was still groaning and crying in agony when suddenly it stopped.

I quickly glanced up to see that the child knocked out and I heard Rick's partner slightly slap the boy, saying, "Wait – wait, hey."

"He just passed out," my father answered the man's unasked question.

I let a breath of relief out when I slowly yanked the bullet fragment out of the boy's stomach and said, "One down," I dropped the shrapnel into a little bowl that Patricia provided for me, "five to go."

I looked around the room to see the nervous faces of Rick and his partner.

I sighed and looked at Rick, saying, "Have a seat, Rick. I'm going to need a lot of your blood." He slowly nodded and sat down on the chair that Patricia offered. I placed a hand over my father's and asked, "Take his blood pressure, please?" My father nodded and did as told without question, and I started to properly gauze the boy's bullet wound.

Dad started to pump air into the blood pressure meter and seconds later said, "Pressure's stable."

I nodded and was about to start talking when Rick unintentionally cut me off, "Lori needs to be here." Presumably, he was talking about his wife. "She doesn't even know what's going on. I gotta' – I gotta' go find her, bring her back."

"You can't do that," dad stated.

"She's his mother!" Rick snapped. "She needs to know what's happened; her son's lying here, shot."

"And he's going to need more blood," my father said. He then looked over at Rick's friend, who was leaning against the dresser and said, "He can't go more than 50 feet from this bed."

Patricia gently freed Rick from the needle that was taking his blood and he stood up in a wobbly manner but refused help from his friend. They both walked out of the room with heavy shoulders, not knowing what to do but I had an idea.

"Dad," I started, catching his attention. "If I could just go and take Nellie, and bring back the boy's mother -"

"No, out of the question." He cut me off. "I need you here."

"Daddy, I know you can do this without me." He looked apprehensive. "I will be gone for at most an hour. The little boy needs his mom." Dad still looked like he was going to disagree. "What if I was lying here? And you were miles away, not knowing what happened to me?"

He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, "I knew you were going to say that."

I slightly smirked, even through this tense situation, "I am my mother's daughter." I sighed, getting up from my crouching position and my arms covered in the boy's blood.

"Ask Maggie to go," my father said. "I do need you here and she knows the woods as good as Otis." I nodded, about to leave through the door to tell the worried men and Maggie the news.

I opened the door to see Rick's friend stand up away from Rick and I could only assume that he was comforting the terrified father. Rick and Shane stood next to me, looking at me impatiently for details.

I pushed a stray hair away from my face before saying, "He's out of danger for the moment, but I need to remove those remaining fragments."

"How?" Rick asked, looking entirely defeated and pale from the amount of blood that was taken from him. "You saw how he was."

"I know," I mumbled, picking my fingernail out of tension, "and that was the shallowest one. I need to go in deeper to get the others."

"Oh, man," Shane commented, just as distressed.

I looked at the ground, whispered, "Um, there's more."

"Tell me," Rick assertively stated.

I sighed, before answering, "His belly's distended, his pressure's dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. A fragment must've nicked one of his blood vessels." Rick closed his eyes and gulped.

I continued, "My dad and I have to open him, find the ripped vessel, and stitch it back up. But he cannot move while we're in there, I mean – at all." I took a deep breath before I proceeded, "If he reacted the same way as before, I can't promise that I won't sever an artery and then, he'll be dead in minutes."

Rick stayed silent but he was somehow paler than he was before.

I shared a look with Maggie and Otis before saying, "If we wanted to even try this, I'd have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own; it'd be the same bad results."

Rick let out a shaky breath and asked, "What'll take?"

"You need a respirator," Otis cut in before I had a chance to say anything. "What else?" Otis asked me.

I gave him a soft smile, knowing how guilty he must've felt, "The tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, suture's -"

Rick interrupted me, looking down at me, "If you had all that, you could save him?"

I bit the inside of my cheek and slowly nodded, "If I had all that, your son has a large chance of surviving this."

"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis stated, until he realized, "the high school."

I nodded, "That's what dad thought of." I looked at Rick, who hadn't stopped looking at me since I said I could save his son. "They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything that my dad and I would need."

"Place was overrun last time I saw it; you couldn't get near it." Otis grumbled, but then said, optimistically, "Maybe it's better now."

Rick's friend humorlessly grinned and said, "I said, leave the rest to me. Is it too late to take that back?"

"I hate you goin' alone." The blue eyed sheriff whispered, guilt-stricken.

The brave man shook his and looked over at me, "Doc, why don't you do me a list? Draw me a map?"

"You won't need a map," Otis cut in. I felt an arm around my shoulder and looked up to see my father, who's arm was wrapped around me and Patricia, who looked at her husband in worry. "I'll take you there," Otis stated. "Ain't but five miles,"

"Otis, no," his wife demanded.

"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork and I'm responsible." Otis said, completely ridden with guilt. "I ain't gonna sit here while this fella takes this on alone." Otis and Patricia shared a look with Otis finalizing his commitment, "I'll be alright."

"Are you sure about this?" Rick's friend asked, concerned.

"Do you even know what any of the stuff he's talking about look's like?" Otis questioned the man.

The man tilted his head, "Come to think, no."

"I've been a volunteer E.M.T. I do." Otis replied. "We could talk about this till next Sunday or we can do it real quick."

"I'll take right quick," the man answered.

"I should thank you," Rick stated, looking up at Otis with gratitude.

Otis sighed, "Wait till that boy of yours is up and round, then we'll talk. I'll go gather some things."

"Where is she?" I asked Rick, "your wife?" He looked stunned at the question and I gave him a reassuring smile, then squeezed his upper shoulder saying, "Maggie knows these woods just as good as any hunter. She can find Lori."

"She's right," Maggie assured, "if you can tell me where they are, I can find her."

And just like that, there seemed to be hope for the little boy after all.

I sat on the chair that Rick once occupied and held onto Carl's hand as the others bid Otis and Shane a farewell, not knowing if they were coming back. I stroked the sleeping boy's hair, making sure he was getting the fluid's and blood that he needed. I periodically checked his blood pressure, which was stable at times but then dropped and I knew I couldn't do anything about that without performing surgery.

A familiar voice made me jump, "I can't thank you enough for what you're doing."

I looked up to see Rick standing at the doorway before he gradually made his way over to crouch down next to me to stroke his boy's leg. I offered him my chair but he just shook his head and stayed where he was.

I let out a dry chuckle and said, "I didn't even get his name. What is it?" I asked, looking down at Rick.

He slightly grinned down at the boy and whispered, "Carl, his name is Carl."

I gaped, and said, "Which grandfather did you name the poor child after?"

His eyes widened when I asked the question but I saw the mirth swimming around his blue eyes and he smiled when he said, "Lori's, it was Lori's father's name."

I quirked my lips and brushed some hair away from Carl's face before saying, "He looks more like a Dylan."

Rick let out a breath of a chuckle and said, "I'll run that past my wife." I smiled down at him and continued to sit with him in silence yet I couldn't help but think that his wife should've been sitting where I was.

The sheriff interrupted the silence by asking, "How long have you been a doctor? If you don't mind me saying, you look a little young to be a doctor."

"I don't mind," I replied. "I'm actually not a certified doctor. I've got my Masters and Medical degree, and almost got my PhD. I came down here for the summer and was about to start my fourth year of residency at Columbia Medical before…" I waved my arm around, silently telling him before the end of the world happened. "But I've got a good amount of experience under my belt."

He nodded and said, "Once again, I can't thank you enough -"

"Stop," I interjected. "He's a child. He doesn't deserve to die and he's not going to; I'll make sure of it."

"You don't even know us."

"I don't need to." I placed a hand over his shoulder and said, "No doctor ever needs to know their patients. They just know they have to save them." I saw him visibly gulp and nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"What about your name?" He suddenly asked, as I removed my hand from his shoulder.

"What're you talking about?" I wondered.

"Which parent decided to name you after a grandfather?"

My jaw slightly dropped and feigned offense, "Hey, my name is a unisex name." Rick raised an eyebrow in my direction and I let out a slight pout, "My parents thought I was a boy but when I – a female – popped out they decided to keep the name."

Rick stared at me before letting out a wholehearted smile, with a light chuckle coming from him and I couldn't help but smile back at him.

Eventually, Rick went down to talk to my father and wait for his wife, Lori while Patricia waited for the return of Otis and, I found out his name, Shane. We were all playing the waiting game wondering how all of this would turn out.

I was preparing a slight meal for Rick as he gave another blood transfusion for his son through the help of Patricia and my father. I knew he'd need his blood count higher and he'd be completely weak as he looked like he hasn't had a decent meal in weeks. I heard slow footsteps making their way into the dining room where I was, followed by quicker, more familiar footsteps that I knew were my fathers.

I looked up to see Lori – a tall, slim brunette with the most defined facial structure I've ever seen – holding onto a much weaker Rick and I softly handed him a glass of orange juice. He thanked me before he shakily started to drink the juice. My dad stood next to me and gestured Rick to take a seat, which he did.

"Okay," Lori started, "so I understand, when Shane gets back with this other man -"

"Otis," my dad added.

"Otis," Lori seethed, "the idiot who shot my son."

I bit my tongue from saying anything sharp, knowing she was grieving, so instead I said, "Ma'am, it was an accident."

She nodded, barely giving me a glance, "'ll take that under advisement later. For now, he's the idiot who shot our son."

"Lori," Rick warned, "they're doing everything they can to make it right."

"Okay," she mumbled. "As soon as they get back, you can perform this surgery?" She asked my father.

Dad said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "My daughter will and I'll help her through it."

Lori looked confused and asked me, "You seem a little young to be a doctor?"

"I was about to start my fourth year of residency in Columbia Medical before the world decided to end." I stated.

"So, you've done this procedure before?" She asked, skeptically.

I sighed, nodding, "Once, in Mexico – I was in Mexico my second year of being a resident; it was part of this program I was in. But anyways, he was a gang member, got shot through the thigh, completely shattered his bones and given what I had, he survived. He's going to have a limp for the rest of his life, but he survived."

Rick and Lori both sighed in relief, then Lori asked my dad, "And what about you?"

"I'm a vet." My dad answered.

"A veteran – a combat vet?" She asked, hopeful to have two experienced doctors taking care of her son.

"A veterinarian,"

"And you two can save my son?"

My father and I shared a look before he said, "We will do our absolute best."

Eventually, I shared that we should check Carl's blood pressure again as it was getting rather dark and Shane and Otis still weren't here, much to everyone's chagrin.

I shook my head as I took Carl's blood pressure, and informed the worried parents of the bad news, "Pressure's dropping again. We can't wait much longer." My father took out the needle that was feeding Carl his father's blood and placed a band aid over the vein.

"Take some more -" Rick started, shoving his arm to my dad, "Whatever he needs, then I'm gonna' go."

"Go where?" My dad asked.

"He said five miles," Rick was practically a shaky mess. He could barely stand straight. "They should be back by now. Something's gone wrong."

"Are you insane?!" Lori snapped. "You're not going after them."

"Rick," my dad cut in, "listen to your wife."

Rick wouldn't hear it, "If they got into trouble -"

I interjected, "You're in no condition to do anything about it. You've given too much blood. You're barely on your feet. You wouldn't make it five steps past the front yard."

He started to shake his head, "Something happened. I have to go."

"No!" Lori yelled, adamantly. "Your place is here. If Shane said he'll be back, he'll be back. He's like you that way."

"I can't just sit here," he whispered, defeated.

"That's exactly what you do!" Lori exclaimed. "If you need to pray or cry or tell God he's cruel, you go right ahead, but you're not leavin', Rick. Carl needs you – here." She then whispered, "And I can't do this by myself. Not this one. I can't…I can't."

"I don't know if I can do this, dad." I softly cried into his shoulder. His arms were tight around me, hugging me to his slightly chubby chest. Old age did him good, he was the most active elderly man I knew. He was the most powerful man I knew and I had the privilege of him being my father.

He whispered, as he stroked my hair, "Peyton Greene, you are the strongest woman in the world. I know absolutely no one who has the power to come over what you did. And you will save that boy, do you understand me?"

I sniffled against his chest and nodded, whispering, "Okay." I nodded, "I'll save him."

And that's the first chapter of Tick of the Clock.

I hope you guys enjoyed it! Expect another chapter soon! Oh and if you like Teen Wolf, be sure to check out my Derek Hale/OC story!

Anyways, you guys are always amazing, see you soon!