"Rick! Oh god, your face…"
Sara hurried over and sat down inelegantly next to him on the sofa. He caught her small hands before she could touch his sore cheek, noting absently how cold they felt in his. "It's all right, darling. It's already healing, I'm fine." He scanned her face. She looked gaunt and pale, dark rings like nightmarish make-up circling her eyes. "When did you last eat, or sleep?"
It was her turn to wave his concern away. "I'm fine, Rick. Michonne's made sure of it." She threw a quick, grateful glance over her shoulder at the other woman hovering by the door, but her eyes returned quickly to Rick. "Let me look at you. I…I saw…some of it. I saw that monster hurting you…" Her voice broke, and Rick tightened his grip on her shaking hands.
He shook his head. "Later, maybe. There's bigger problems to take care of first. We need food, and water." He threw Carl a long look. His son was standing next to Michonne, both their faces full of concern. "No sign of any of the others?" Rick asked. Michonne shook her head, frowning.
"Nothing."
Rick's heart sank. Daryl can look after himself, he told his worried mind for the hundredth time. At least he had Sara back, the most vulnerable of the group. And his special concern, in any case.
He glanced back down as Sara gave a little shudder, closing her eyes. Before Rick could ask if she was all right a surprised little smile crept onto her face. The sight, to Rick, was the sun breaking through a week-long cloud cover. Sara reached out and took his hand, placing it on her swollen belly.
"Feel that?" Her dark blue eyes were suddenly alight with joy. "She's woken up."
Heart beating fast Rick waited for the next burst of movement. There! A flutter under his fingers, then a tiny bump pushed up out of Sara's abdomen. The doctor gave a quiet little laugh. "She's excited today."
Tears were stinging the corners of his eyes. He turned his head, blinking them away, then glanced at Sara to see if she'd noticed. But her small, pale face was lowered, distracted by the life inside her.
"We have to find provisions." Michonne's voice jolted them out of the reverie. "And then we need to decide what to do next."
"We're staying here," Rick said. "It's as safe as anywhere. And," he glanced at Sara again. "It'll be nice to get some rest."
Sara looked at him, then nodded. "You need it, too." She reached out and stroked his less bruised cheek carefully with one finger. Then she pushed herself awkwardly to her feet. "Michonne and I'll go scavenging. We won't be long." She smiled at Rick. "You sleep a bit."
"No, sweetheart." Rick got up just as stiffly and took her hands again. "You're not going anywhere. You're exhausted." He glanced at his son, who nodded. "Carl and Michonne can manage."
Sara hesitated, chewing her lip, and Rick was forcefully reminded of Daryl when the hunter was grappling with an unpalatable truth. He felt a stab in his heart. None of them had mentioned Daryl yet, but his absence was looming large.
Finally, Sara nodded. She sat back down with a groan and craned her head to look at Michonne. "Try and find some meds, ok?"
#
How he got them both out he's never quite sure later. The last clear memory before it all descends into chaos was lying curled up around Sara on a bed upstairs, holding her small form as she nuzzled close, talking quietly about her time with Michonne, about her fear for Daryl, about Rick's injuries. No concern for herself, no mention of how tired, sick and exhausted she must be feeling in her condition, starved, parched and cold, forced to walk for miles to get away from the horror they had created.
They both dropped off eventually, and woke into hell.
Rick killed one of them, and he would've killed more to protect her. All told, they were lucky. It was over so quickly, and the only one they really saw was the one Rick killed, in the bathroom from which they escaped.
Michonne came running just when they made it onto the veranda roof, and somehow, with her help, Rick got Sara onto the ground. The doctor hit the lawn hard, and Rick heard her cry out when he lowered himself and the bullets started flying. Michonne and Rick scooped Sara up between them and, somehow, they got away unscathed.
Now the four of them were hidden in the dense brush off a country road, three miles from the house they had hoped could be their hideout for a while. Sara was standing there hunched over, arms cradling her belly, breathing hard.
"Sit down, sweetheart." Rick reached out to help her lower herself, but Sara shook her head.
"Not here. We need to get away further." She straightened with a wince and pressed her hands into the small of her back. Her face was ghostly. Michonne held out a water bottle.
"Drink."
They waited while Sara tipped the nearly empty bottle and took a small sip. Rick watched her throat working, the vein in her neck still pulsing with the exertion, reminding him of a small, frightened animal. Sara handed the bottle back and they set off down the path again.
Rick brought up the rear, keeping one eye on their surroundings, one on Sara carefully picking her way over the uneven, narrow path. She was limping slightly, and Rick wanted to offer help. Something held him back, and all he felt he could do was stick close, alert for any stumbling or swaying, praying they'd find shelter soon, aching to get her to rest.
