This story takes place a few days after Carl was shot in the eye and is in a coma.

"I think I'm gonna lose my son. . . my boy," Rick murmurs softly, his head down and his hands pulling Carl's right one in between his and up almost in a prayer position. The statement wasn't said to anyone in particular yet it was a a fear he needed to share with the world.

He and Michonne sat flanking Carl's bed keeping vigil in the middle of the night for the 4th day in a row. Michonne took an exhausted glance at Rick; she hadn't slept this poorly since the month after losing Andre and her ability to speak in clear and declarative sentences eroded two night ago. As a response, she shook her head, reached over Carl's unconscious body and added her hand on top of the tangle of his and Rick's.

Rick was deeply absorbed in his thoughts of what he was sure to be imminent loss that he jerked when he saw the dark brown hand cover his own. He had forgotten she was there. When he looked up he took in Michonne's weary face and he calmed. "She's still here, she's still with me", he thought. A warmth pierced the numbness in his heart.

For the first time in days his thoughts shifted away from the comatose, one-eyed, boy laying on the bed who certainly should have awoken by now. Rick found Michonne's eyes and stared deeply into them. The brown pools of color seemed to envelope him. For a moment, the world fell away and it was as if someone had draped a blanket freshly dried, warm and smelling of spring, around his shoulders. He was surprised to find the comfort he experienced just with the eye contact, also a strength just knowing she's there. That strength gave him hope. He isn't going to give up just yet. He- they will get through this because she, just like him, would never give up. He turned his top hand around and grabbed a more firm hold on hers.

Michonne felt her hand being squeezed and watched as the stormy torture in Rick's eyes died down. "Good, I got through," she thought. She began to pull her hand away due to the discomfort of the reach but Rick held fast, alarm dancing around the edges of his eyes. The samurai warrior, stood as best she could without letting go and used the last of her energy to walk around the end of the bed, dragging her chair behind her. She propped the chair up next to Rick and sat; the hands being readjusted so that both of his hands sandwiched Michonne's left hand and Carl's right.

Having her physically closer felt even better. He found that her proximity not only soothed his distress over Carl and his feelings of helplessness, holding her hand in this way also helped him feel as if he was protecting her. Take care of her. She never seems to need care-taking but he could see they were both a little broken. Rick wondered if the situation was bringing up old wounds about Andre, he knew Michonne loved his son as if he were her own and it must be torture going through this again.

He felt her relax as he held her hand and after a time she slowly slumped down, drifting to sleep. Michonne's head fell back in what Rick determined to be a very uncomfortable position. He took his right hand crossing his own body and gently pulled her head up and to the side allowing her to rest on his shoulder. Michonne's free hand instinctively wrapped around him as she shifted towards him and snuggled in. The side of Rick's mouth quirked up as he looked down with amusement at seeing her like this. He observed her for a few minutes as his numbness continued to thaw. "We'll all get through this" he said softly breathing her in and exhaling, "together".