Disclaimer: I don't own TWD, no money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by me writing this fan-fiction story. I do, however, own the opinions that Harry Styles is a fantastic singer, Levi is my Heichō, and sushi/sashimi is the best kind of food.

This story is non-trad A/B/O dynamics, if that wasn't obvious before, lol. Not everyone is a sentinel or guide, not everyone is an alpha or omega. More often than not, most people are ordinary.

IDK much about hospitals, btw, sorry in advance...

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

"Why are you here, and what do you want." {Doctor Edwin Jenner, season 1 episode 6}

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

1.

"Earlier this week, the CDC released a statement that - "

"ACHOO...! Uh, can I...?"

I tilt the tissue box in my lap toward the sneezing man.

Then, without any notice, my head falls against mom's shoulder. Her scent, warm and familiar, fills my nose.

We both try to ignore the noises coming from the other people cooped up in here.

" - sudden dizziness, confusion, pain or pressure in the chest or . . . "

That sounds like how I felt when mom told me about dad.

'Hurt on the job.' That's what he told me a long time ago. He could get hurt protecting people. 'This job is dangerous, but someone has to . . .'

I gulp, my sniffling lost underneath the news on the television and the rough scraping of ballpoint pens on paper, and the crying.

Who's not crying in this room? Maybe only the people sitting behind the desks and the doctors in white coats rushing between this room and the countless other rooms.

Mom' shoulder rattles my brain, with my head still resting against her.

Our joined hands shake between us.

I hear another wet blow of snot hit the tissue in her other hand. She hasn't come up for air since we sat down.

Lifting my head up, I hand her another tissue from the box in my lap. Eyes holding her red face, I watch her crumble the new tissue into a ball, her face wrinkling.

"Mom . . . dad's gonna be fine."

It didn't feel like an empty promise. Somehow, without any proof or inkling of what the future holds, dad has to be fine.

"I know," her fingernails dig lightly into my palm.

I sniffle, rubbing my nose against her shirt, hoping my scent will soothe her, even just a little bit.

My throat tightens and the air tastes stale, laying thick on my tongue.

How can the hospital make people feel better, if something as vital as air is unnatural?

The scents coating every inch of the walls must've been sprayed with chemicals to remove any and all scents in the room.

The sight of green plastic potted plants around the room only makes me frown even harder.

A door opens again, this time it carries a scent I've known for as long as I could breathe -

Shane stands before us. "They say he's out of surgery."

He's still wearing his uniform, and he reminds me so much of dad that my heart skips a beat.

"He's finally resting. Your old man is strong . . . Carl, Lori, you hear me? He's gonna live."

Mmm only cries louder at his words, and I'm pulled closer to her, almost ending up in her lap.

"He's fine, Rick's gonna live? No broken bones, or -"

"A little bruised and rattled, but otherwise, he's alive."

"I want - " my voice breaks, and I'm forced to sniffle. Mom lifts a new tissue from the box and passes it to me. I take it, feeling lighter in my chest, even my swollen eyes feel less achy. "I wanna see him."

Shane crouches down at my feet, his hands anchor to my chair's arms on either side of my body. I lean into him, falling with my face onto his shoulder. With my chin hooking over his shoulder, I fall deeper into his arms. He's warm and his skin still holds dad's scent.

"You will."

I perk up and peel my face from him, "Can I? Right now?"

He claps a hand onto my shoulder, his dark eyes are unsteady. Watery and red-rimmed.

He chuckles slightly at my challenging behavior.

I let him go as he rises to stand. He ruffles a hand through my hair, further sharing dad's scent with me.

Shane looks to mom, who has her eyes glued to him. "I'm sure your dad would like something nice to look at when he wakes up."

He clears his throat, "We can pick up flowers and get a card for him. D'you think he'd like that, Carl? Lori?"

With a hand over her chest, mom nods and sniffles into her crumpled tissue, "I - I think he really would. C'mon, Carl, we'll be back to visit later when he's awake."

"Why can't we see him now?"

Both of them are out of their seats but I make no move to leave.

Flowers are for sick people and funerals. "Dad's not sick - he's not - he's not dying, so I want to see him."

He was shot, a bullet stuck in his shoulder - that's what Shane told us. But now he's alone in his room, he shouldn't be alone when he's hurt.

"But you said he's fine - why can't we see him now?"

Mom latches onto Shane's arm in a split second, sobbing loudly into the crook of his neck. He pulls her closer with an arm around her back, his freehand is outstretched for me to take.

"Rick," mom sobs into Shane.

Her scent is like a spinning top, changing too fast for me to get a read on her. The Guide inside of me hates this. Urges me to talk to her, to scramble and pick up the pieces she's laying down - this primal part of me reads the situation before my slow modern mind can:

She's crying because her mate was seriously hurt and she can't scent him,

She's hugging Shane over me because his clothes and skin carry dad's scent,

She's tucking her head into his neck, the exact spot where her lips would meet his mating scent gland, because . . . because . . . ?

The Guide is confused and a little hurt, coming into my awareness through little nudging sensations that tingles my brain.

Shane's tugging me out of my chair by my hand, and the Guide inside of me continues to think.

"Just in, news at the top of the hour, a serious warning from the CDC: the public is advised to - "

2.

"Wait," mom halts us in the main lobby of the hospital. She turns to me, "We should visit your friend." She wipes a wad of tissue under her nose.

" - Who?"

" - Who?"

Shane and I ask at the same time.

I look at her, dumbfounded. Her achingly sad scent has settled down with the update on dad's condition.

A tired smile lines her lips, "That Omega you told me about."

"I don't think that's a good idea, mom." I knew I should have told her that I had caught wind of his scent in one of the hospital's hallways.

She shuffles under Shane's arm, sniffling and clutching her tissue to her chest. "At the end of the day, he's still your classmate, honey. You never know, maybe you'll help him get better sooner, rather than later. You're a familiar face, a familiar scent..."

"Ugh, he's not my omega," I grumble, thoroughly exhausted with how this day is turning out. "No matter what you or anybody else says."

Her sad eyes and souring scent has me marching to the front desk. After giving his name and making it clear we are just friends, the desk clerk gives us directions to his room, which is where I find my feet stuck in the doorway.

That scent of his stops me from walking further.

I made a card for him, saying 'get well soon,' but this . . . he looks bad.

"Carl?"

That mop of hair is closely shaved to his scalp. A strange coloring of his skin adds to the beet red from his sweating. In fact, he's dripping in sweat - the light hospital gown sticks to his chest.

The dopey smile of his is still there, greeting me and all I want to do is turn around.

"Go ahead, we'll wait out here," mom's voice is quieter than ever. Still tucked under Shane's shoulder, they usher me into the room.

"I got your card," he wheezes, that dumb smile is still there.

I make a face, wishing I wore a mask.

"Did you like it?" the question slips from my lips. I curse the Alpha in me for asking that.

His cracked lips shine under the dim lights, "Yeah!"

"So, uh . . ."

"You can come closer, I don't bite," he laughs, and it's a breathy sound.

I shuffle closer to his bed. My hands having nowhere to go slide into my front pant pockets.

I hold my breath, wondering how long I can go before I start to gasp for air.

"What's . . . ?"

"What's wrong with me?"

I nod. I always thought there was something wrong with him.

"I'm sick."

"I - I can see that."

"Ouch," he says lightly, "Just what I wanted to hear."

"Sorry," I mutter, shifting on my feet.

"It's okay," he shudders.

He looks to the ceiling, still resting on his back on the fluffy white pillows. His eyes are dark and round, "They told me it's something called Lymphoma. Whatever that means. I, I kinda stopped listening after mom started crying."

"Does that mean you're . . . dying?" My thoughts fly back to dad.

"You ask a lot of questions, Carl," he huffs a laugh again.

"I'm sorry." I apologize, even though his scent doesn't seem angry. I just don't know what to say, I didn't even want to be here.

My hands curl in my pockets, fighting against the urge to reach out and comfort him. It's that damn Alpha part of me that wants to care for any Omega.

"Never said it was a bad thing," he counters. "Means you're a good person, you want to know more."

"Thanks," I say it, and I mean it.

"I'm tired," he cranes his neck on his pillow, closing his eyes. "Could you close the door when you go?"

"Sure, I can do that."

The short walk from his bed to his door stretches like miles upon miles.

Mom and Shane's curious faces watch me close the door. I shake my head at them, "I - I . . ."

Mom scrunches up her forehead, "How do you feel, baby?"

I'm feeling out-of-sorts.

"He's sick," I blink a few times, "I think he's dying, mom."

"No, oh no," she gasps, clutching at Shane's chest.

He inhales a sharp breath and wipes a hand over his gaping mouth. "Feels like we're getting bad news over and over again today. I'm sorry, kid."

"I want to get him a card too."

" - Yeah, of course."

" - C'mon, give me a hug."

Our trio bundles together into a mix of tightly wound arms and hating this day even more than ever.

3.

I sat in the back of the car with my arms folded over my chest. The tall green trees blurred as we drove along the highway.

"It's crazy times! Contact your family and mark safe places on your maps. Something's happening, I'm telling you, this is more serious than they're letting on."

"Change the station, Shane, you know better than to listen to fanatics."

I imagine mom rolled her eyes at Shane's smirk.

"I agree this is getting rather serious. The CDC making statements nearly every hour and now the U.S. president is expected to hold a conference. But who is the 'they' you are referring to?"

"The damn crooks - "

Mom turns the dial of the car radio, stopping at random.

"Hey, I'm driving, woman! That means I control the radio."

"Speaking with health officials at Grady Memorial Hospital, they made a statement that emergency patients will continue to be accepted. They failed to make it clear if non-emergencies will be accepted. EMTs and medical personnel - "

"What is happening out there?" Shane drums his fingers along the steering wheel. "Just this morning they were saying it's the flu. I'll have to call - "

" - Shane, watch out!"

"Ah!" I gasp, my arms whipping out from my body. My head is thrown forward and just as fast, I'm thrown into my seat.

"Arrrghhh!" he grunts, jerking the steering wheel sharply, "Holy shit! What kinda dumb piece of shit thinks it's okay to walk on a highway?!"

"Language!" Mom shouts, her hands above her head, touching the top of the car to steady herself. "Carl, baby - sweetheart - are you okay?"

She turns her head back at me, and I can't speak with the fear of what just happened keeping my throat closed.

"I'm turning us around, we gotta make sure that girl's okay."

"Shane, take us home. This day is just turning worse and worse. I don't know how much more I can take."

"Lori, I can't just ignore what happened."

"I can't -" mom's voice wobbles and eventually breaks. "Shane, I want us to go home."

Shane sighs. "Okay, I - I'll just call it in to station. We better see Rick tomorrow, is that alright with you, Carl?"

I rub the back of my head. It's throbbing.

The terrified scent coming from mom makes my decision easy, "Yeah."

4.

I curl my legs up, folding my arms around my knees, and kneading my toes into the wooden stair step beneath me.

Mom paces back and forth in from of the couch.

The tv is on and it's on the news channel. Seems like every tv in this town is set to watch the news.

" - loss of power in parts of Georgia, as well as parts of Tennessee and South Carolina. Our region is advised to seek shelter at designated 'zones.' These include surrounding counties of Atlanta. Our sources tell us - "

"We're not leaving."

"This is about keeping you and Carl safe, we're sitting ducks if we stay. That white-picket fence outside your house isn't going to do much of anything."

"What are you talking about? Power outages are nothing! I doubt looters are gonna come through here."

"You heard the same thing I did, right? We have to go to the city. There's a virus spreading around, we can't stick around to catch it."

"No, Shane," she shakes her head.

"What Rick wants more than anything in the world is for you and Carl to be safe, he told me that."

"Even if that means leaving him behind?"

"Look," he runs a hand through his hair, "I'll make sure Rick knows where we're going, that way he can find us in Atlanta. Give me half-an-hour, and if I'm not back you start driving to the city."

"I don't like this, I don't like this at all."

"I know," he holds her upper arms, pulling her into his hold.

I clasp the stair's railing in my hands, wanting to comfort mom, but it looks and smells like it's Shane she wants right now. Their deep connection and friendship is something to praise.

"If you're not back, we'll wait for you."

"I promise I'll come back. You better promise me you'll go, if you have to."

"Can I go with you, Shane?" I ask from my place on the stairs.

"No, Carl," mom answers before Shane can. "You're staying in the house with me."

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

"Think about something else, puppies and kittens." {Rick, season 1 episode 2}

._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

A/N:

Carl - Alpha Guide

Rick - Alpha

Lori - Alpha

Shane - Beta

I swear, Carl's classmate has importance to later on in the story! He's not just a random character.

I'll admit right now... I love feedback. Don't be shy! I gladly accept constructive criticism, but flaming or hateful comments - will be met a reply in-kind. Don't like the content or subject, don't read it. Simple really.