"Rick!" Beth cried when she spotted him. He didn't move. He was lying on his back and there were smears of blood on the floor around him. The man himself was a mess of bruises, blood and dirt He had no visible bites, but in the tight quarters of the bell tower they couldn't really be sure.

"Is he alive?" Beth gasped as Daryl knelt beside him.

"Yeah, looks like he's got a nasty lump on his head. Got some cuts and scrapes too, but no bites that I can see."

"We need a safe place to hide out for awhile and if he has any chance, some medicine too. Too many points of entry in this church. S'not safe enough. Stay here with Rick. I'll scout out the nearby buildings and find us a better place."

Beth looked down at the unconscious man and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"I'll be back soon. If he dies, you don't hesitate, ya hear? he said fingering the knife by her side.

She swallowed and nodded."I won't"

Beth felt helpless looking down at this man who had done so much for her family. She knew she wouldn't be alive if not for him in those early days. She brushed his long greasy bangs out of his eyes. He didn't stir. There was nothing to do but wait for Daryl to return. Grasping Rick's hand she was alarmed at how cold it was. Rubbing it between her palms, she began to sing to him in a low melodic voice as she looked out over the town spread below her. The singing was more for her, to help steady her nerves, but she hoped that maybe Rick could hear her too and that he would at least know he wasn't alone.

True to his word, Daryl returned a short time later with a plan. There was a house, untouched by the dead or the living, just about a block from here. It was going to be dangerous to move Rick in this state, both for his own health and for the fact that it left all three of them vulnerable during the transport.

"I spotted an old fenced-in garden from the bell tower two doors over. There's a wheelbarrow next to the gate."

Daryl leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. "Yeah, that will do." He went to fetch it.

Maneuvering the unconscious man down the stairs safely took the better part of an hour. When they reached the ground floor of the church, Daryl had the wheelbarrow waiting. A short time later, they had Rick in the house, stripped to his underwear on a bed.

"No bites. His pulse is steady, but weak." Beth said leaning over Rick, her finger on the pulse point on his neck. Sitting back, she covered him up with the sheet and blankets. Tucking everything under to seal in his body heat. She would have liked to clean him some, at least get the blood off of him, but that would have to wait until she could gather what supplies she needed. The house was pristine, full of the dust of disuse. She was hopeful that meant she could find what she needed right here and not have to venture out.

"How's his head?" Daryl asked watching her.

"Not great. It's a bad lump, and there's a gash too. I cleaned the wound the best I could with what I have on me. I'll have to keep an eye on it, make sure an infection doesn't set-in."

Daryl nodded. He trusted Beth when it came to medical stuff. She knew more than most. She had been Herschel's right hand when he had doctored. She had a calm, steady way about her when it came to the sick and wounded. Her proud father had once said she had a gift, and Daryl had to agree.

"Come here." He said, reaching for her and pulling her into a tight embrace, her head tucked under his chin.

"I love you." She said wrapping her arms tight around his waist.

"I love you too." He said kissing the top of her head.

"He's gotta pull through. We've lost so many that you'd think it almost wouldn't matter anymore. But it does. It really does." He said, his voice breaking a bit at the end.

"I know. He'll make it," she swore, looking over at the unconscious man.

He pulled back to look at her. "I need to bury Carl. Sooner the better."

Beth nodded sadly.

"Figure I'll bring him here. This way I can be near you both, n'case you need me." He glanced out the window at the waning midday sun. "I'd better get movin'."

"Take this." She said handing him Carl's sheriff's hat.

He nodded. It was fitting. Carl loved that hat. It should rest with him. She could see tears shining in his eyes as he walked out the door.

Daryl brought Carl's body back to the house wrapped up tight like a shroud in a blue bed sheet. He was digging the grave beneath a big oak in the backyard. Beth had tended to Rick all the while sneaking worried glances at Daryl from the bedroom window. She could see him furiously digging into the dirt, wanting to get Carl in the ground before Rick woke up. If Rick woke up. Her heart was breaking, for Daryl, for Carl the boy they had both loved and his wounded father before her.

Beth found the supplies she needed and spent a few hours cleaning Rick of all the blood and filth, checking his wounds, and changing his bandages. She had found a nice supply of canned food and bottles water in the house as well that would keep them from having to hunt for at least a week. Beth was glad. They needed a break. They needed to rest and tend to their friend.

Rick began to stir. Beth rushed to sit beside him. His eyes opened wide, but they were not focused. He thrashed around a little and called out for Carl and Lori. He made some other incoherent noises as Beth stroked her hand over his

bare chest and arms, trying to calm him. After a few moments, he settled down. His body was too bruised and battered to keep fighting for long. She cradled his head on her lap and carefully fed him spoonfuls of water and medicine. She watched as he swallowed down what she gave him. She wasn't sure if he would. The fact that he did bode well for his recovery. She managed to get a few more spoonfuls of fluids in him before the pain killers kicked-in and he fell asleep. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, his skin felt a little warm and he mumbled a bit at the contact.

She watched him for a few more minutes to make sure he was truly settled. He looked so peaceful lying there. He really was a beautiful man, she mused. Strong, capable, honorable. She could picture him on her family's farm like it was yesterday, working side by side with Lori and Carl. He was magnetic, a natural leader. To see him like this, was tragic in a way that Beth couldn't express. It was like Daryl had said. They had lost so many, but Rick was different. He was the man they all looked too to guide them. He was their friend. He was their brother.

He had to live.