Tapering off the medication keeping Rick in a coma is accompanied by multiple medical personnel cautioning them all that it can take hours, or even days, for a patient to wake up. As much as Amanda wants to stay, some things need to be taken care of, and for now, Jean and Evelyn are watching over Rick. The longer Gorman goes undetected, the more agitated Amanda's department gets, and she's run out of time to report to them in person.

Shane was able to find out that her phone was found at the scene, but either in the fall or chaos afterward, it was shattered beyond repair. Somehow, she isn't surprised that he managed to get a newer, much more expensive phone set up in its stead even from his seat at Rick's side on the day after the surgery. The downside of that is that she couldn't truly dodge being contacted by Lieutenant Lerner first thing this morning. Whether her career is over at Atlanta or not, she does have to show up for her review hearing.

She has to shower and change into her uniform, which is easier done outside the hospital. Rick's apartment is closer to both the hospital and the department's headquarters, so she takes a taxi there. It's a choice made even easier for Amanda by the fact that she'd permitted all of her personal belongings to be relocated to Rick's.

When he wakes, she intends for Rick to know she's as dedicated to their relationship as possible.

There's no law enforcement guarding Rick's building since Beth is at Shane's place helping Carol with the children and Carl is spending all his time at the hospital like Amanda. The movers shifted all her boxes and Tanith's vivarium inside, and the dog walker is given access through building security. Shane offered for Milo and Lola to come out to his place, but Amanda nixed the idea. They're still too anxious about their new home. A transfer out to Shane's place might feel like they've been rehomed - again.

"Officer Shepherd! It's good to see you. We're all keeping Lieutenant Grimes and all his family in our thoughts." The concierge leaves his desk, striding alongside Amanda and swiping the access card so she doesn't have to draw hers out.

Even without sharing anything about Rick, Amanda isn't surprised that the staff here is alert to the case. Any cop being shot is big news, but when a cop is shot by another cop? The news cycle will feed for ages off the sensationalism of it all.

"Thank you, Brett. He'll be home faster than you can blink."

Perhaps Rick isn't awake yet, but Amanda simply can't grasp anything other than that happening.

"I'm certain he will be." As Amanda steps into the elevator, Brett looks chagrined. "I forgot to send a package up with young mister Grimes when he took the elevator up earlier. Could you tell him I'll send it up with staff since you're both home?"

Nodding, Amanda frowns. "Did he come alone, or did someone come with him?"

Brett confirms that Carl came alone, without any escort at all, and Amanda lets the elevator door slide closed. She can't decide if she's angry or worried that Carl disregarded the instructions once again that he goes nowhere alone. It's even more significant now, with Gorman out there somewhere.

By the time the elevator reaches Rick's floor, she's come down on the side of not just angry, but livid. Even if everything is fine, and Gorman's fled the state as some suggest, the sheer irresponsibility Carl is displaying is astounding. She strides down the hallway with all the fervor she'd use to track down a suspect, and her ire finds more fuel when the apartment door isn't even shut properly.

Just as she's about to start in a rant that would do both her nephew's parents proud, Amanda hears a pitiful whine that halts her words. Easing the door open, cop instincts on alert and replacing the irate heat with icy clarity, Amanda reaches for her service weapon. She can't see into the kitchen from the foyer, but the whimpering isn't coming from further within the apartment. It's coming from the small half bath.

That door is never closed unless someone is using the bathroom, and Carl would never shut either dog up in the tiny space. Not normally.

She can't clear the apartment without checking that room, and if Carl is in there somehow and she doesn't check, she would never forgive herself. Cautiously, gun ready, she opens the door.

Lola is huddled in the corner behind the toilet, but she's the only one in the bathroom. The acrid smell of fresh urine permeates the entire room, and Lola is shivering and terrified. Relieved and afraid at the same time, Amanda can't take time to reassure the little dog. She shuts the door, hopefully leaving Lola safe and secure.

Protocol says she should alert dispatch, but if something is amiss, if there's an intruder inside, speaking will alert them. If there isn't something wrong, if Carl is just being irresponsible, it feels like overkill. Remembering the hidden security control pad, she eases the panel back that hides it and presses the option that sets off the alarm silently downstairs. It's the most she can risk for now.

Right or left? Carl's room or deeper into the apartment? There's no sign of Milo or Carl, and she isn't sure if that's a good sign or not. Maybe Carl took the large dog out for a walk and didn't shut the door properly, as foreign as the idea seems. Carl makes foolish choices at times, like most teenagers, but he's a cop's kid at heart.

His room is clear, nothing in sight, and there's nowhere for an intruder to hide since Carl's closet doors are wide open. Reversing course, she starts down the hall toward the master bedroom.

A glance into the study makes her blood run cold. The place has been ransacked, drawers dragged open and contents spilled everywhere. Despite the destruction, the room is clear, so she takes a deep breath and eases further down the hall. For the first time, she curses the expensive sound insulation of the master suite. With the door closed, she has no idea who is on the other side, but there's no way it's only Carl.

Before she can try the door, a noise from behind her makes her turn. The distinctive click of Milo's nails on the tile of the foyer is followed by a muffled curse.

"Dammit, Milo, let me get the leash off you!"

Carl.

Amanda barely has time to register that fact before there's a burst of motion from behind her. There's a blinding pain that registers almost simultaneously with the sound of gunfire, and she hits the floor, trying to catch her breath. It's nothing like getting shot in her vest and definitely hurts far beyond the leg wound she sustained before. She isn't sure where her gun went.

Drawing in a deep breath to fight past the pain, she screams, "Run, Carl. Get the fuck out of here."

"You fucking bitch." The kick to her ribs ought to be expected, but to her immense gratitude, she hears running and it's away from both Amanda and Gorman.

Calling on all her training, she snatches at his leg and yanks as hard as she can when he tries to pass her to chase after Carl. He doesn't expect it, going down hard like a ton of bricks. She hears a crack of a bone breaking and hopes it's something big and painful, but doesn't count on it.

Like he always has, Gorman ignores her, clambering to his feet and stumbling in the direction of the foyer. Not knowing how far away help will be after she sounded the alarm, Amanda struggles to her hands and knees.

"Don't you chase after a boy, you bastard! Can't face down another cop?" she taunts. She spots a gun, either his or hers, but it's out of reach, spun all the way to the kitchen island next to the trash can. Trying to get to her feet makes her want to vomit, but she manages, using the wall for support. Blood is soaking her shirt, but the pain is fading behind a surge of adrenaline and rage.

Gorman can't be allowed to go after Carl. She won't allow it.

His ego helps her plan because Gorman turns. Fury contorts his expression into something almost monstrous, and she braces herself. He slams her into the wall, and her vision whites out. Not letting that stop her, she draws on all her training and fights back.

Even so, she's wounded and he's fifty pounds heavier. She can't win, so the brawl only buys time.

Time for Carl to get away.

Time for other cops to arrive.

Time for a snarling, ninety-pound dog of a breed meant to challenge lions in Africa to level the playing field.

Gorman screams as Milo tears into his forearm, and it gives Amanda an opening. She gets in a headbutt, pain flashing through her head even as bone crunches and blood spurts. Disoriented and being attacked on two fronts, Gorman manages to get to his feet, but he doesn't run for the foyer. Glass shatters as he crashes through the doors to the living room balcony.

Amanda uses the reprieve to crawl to the gun, rolling to her side as Milo stands guard, snarling like something out of a werewolf movie. When Gorman gets back to his feet, screaming profanities, she aims, shouting the commands her training and protocol require when dealing with a dangerous criminal.

Focusing on her with a snarl that seems more appropriate coming from Milo, he doesn't listen. "I'm going to kill you, you fucking bitch."

She fires.

He falls.

With the career Shane chose, being called back from his honeymoon wasn't unexpected. He can't even say the fact that it was Rick that got shot was surprising. Although once they were past their patrol days, the risk should have lessened, dammit.

But getting called away from Rick's ICU room because the bastard who put him here invaded Rick's home and attacked his family? That is an experience he hoped never would come.

Looking over the scene, he takes a deep breath. The sheriff is in the hallway, having an argument with the police chief that Shane is grateful isn't on him. He knows they'd feel the same way if the situation were flipped and it was county deputies involved like this. That doesn't mean he doesn't have to fight off the impulse to send the damn man over the balcony rail to join his former officer.

At this point, it's not in either department's hands. Shane turned enough data over now that both the state and federal authorities are all over this case. To be honest, he'll be surprised if the police chief doesn't resign by the end of the week.

"You don't have to stand sentinel over our people."

The words are spoken smoothly enough to make Shane smile instead of taking offense. When he takes his eyes off the hardworking technicians cataloging the apartment turned crime scene, Gavin just shrugs. Shane has taken enough classes over the years with the special agent to read through the bland expression, though, and arches a brow at Gavin.

It spawns an admission, as expected. "But I will admit I understand why you want to. I'd do the same thing if it was my family."

Probably the main reason Shane is allowed here is that officially, legally, he and Rick aren't related. Even now, as Rick's long-time partner, he can only observe, so nothing interrupts the chain of command. It just means he can commit it all to memory.

The hallway, where bloody handprints are smeared, tells the story of Amanda, wounded and bleeding, making sure she became Gorman's target and not Carl. Sprays of blood across the kitchen island attest to Milo doing the same. More blood lays a trail to the broken glass and stains the once pristine balcony.

He knows if he goes to look down at the once beautiful outdoor recreation area three floors below. It will take an autopsy to determine if Gorman died from Amanda's shots or the impact of landing on the steps and railings of the smaller of the two pools. Either way, Shane hopes the bastard was alert and aware of just how badly he lost his bid for revenge.

"Any word on Officer Shepherd's condition?"

It's been two hours since Amanda was spirited away to the hospital, with the paramedics ceding to Carl's desperate demand to ride along. Normally, Shane would be there, at his nephew's side and standing vigil over Amanda since Rick isn't able. But the hospital is full of family to do both those things, including Michonne, so Shane is here, making sure absolutely nothing of this circles back to ruin Amanda's life beyond the career he already knows she's walking away from.

"She's still in surgery. Bullet did a hell of a number on her that fighting Gorman didn't help at all." There should be a ban on seeing two people he cares about in critical condition so close together.

"And the security guard Gorman attacked?"

"Doing better than Shepherd. His pride is damaged far more than his body, thankfully."

Finding the security card was used to override the system and gain emergency access to Rick's place alarmed everyone about the missing guard. Luckily, the retired cop was found restrained and gagged in a maintenance area, missing his uniform shirt and security pass. The concussion from hitting his head when Gorman tased him will likely pass faster than the insult to his professional ego.

"Major Walsh?"

Shane turns, eying the blonde special agent whose surname he can't remember, although he thinks he recalls her first name being Laura. He'll remedy the issue later, but for now, he knows why she needs his attention.

"Are they ready for the dogs to leave?"

"They are. The veterinarian gives them both a clean bill of health. They're waiting down in the dog care center."

The way Laura seems puzzled over the idea of the apartment building having its own space just for care and grooming of the pets of the building adds a little levity to the horror of the day. Milo and Lola are the other reason Shane stayed. They don't know him well, not yet, but he knows one of the biggest regrets he is going to have about today is not insisting they go out to his place.

Whatever reasoning made Gorman shove Lola into that cramped bathroom instead of hurting her is the only bit of decency Shane thinks the dead cop might have. They may never know what he intended by accessing the apartment and trashing Rick's office and bedroom since he can't be questioned. There's no doubt in Shane's mind from the damage dealt to Amanda that Gorman wouldn't have hesitated to harm Carl, if luck hadn't held that Amanda came home just in time.

Luck was on Carl's side today. Hopefully, this will be the wake-up call that no lecture could ever manage.

Bidding Gavin and Laura farewell and trusting the state cops to do a thorough job, Shane goes to make sure as many of the pieces of Rick's life are in place as possible. Today could have gone so much worse than it did, and as helpless as it makes Shane feel, he can do this much.

His brother will wake up today. Amanda will come out of surgery just fine. Both dogs survived their ordeal, and Carl may need therapy, but he's alive and well.

Shane intends to be there to take care of them all.

Rick has never felt so dizzy on waking, and his brain feels stuffed full of cotton on top of the vertigo. Trying to turn his head drags something across his face, but when he raises a hand to see what it is, someone catches his hand firmly. Awareness creeps in, first as random sounds and a heavy sensation as if someone is sitting on his chest. Then the acrid scent of disinfectant adds another clue before he gets his eyes open.

It's hard to focus, but a whiff of expensive perfume gives him a solid clue on who has his hand.

"Mom?"

Evelyn confirms the guess by a half-choked sob. "Oh, Rick, sweetheart."

As his vision clears, he can see she's been crying, but she's smiling in a bright and innocent way he hasn't seen her do since his father died. Squeezing her hand, he turns his head to scan the room, taking in all the details that indicate he's in the ICU. Carl is slumped under a blanket on the folding couch-bed, sound asleep.

Memory of the arrest gone wrong trickles back and his breath catches.

"Amanda?"

As the smile fades quickly from Evelyn's face, Rick feels his blood turn to ice. Had he failed to shield Amanda? It happened so fast, seeing Gorman raise the gun, but they were both wearing kevlar. What are the odds they'd both be injured?

"She's right next door," Evelyn explains hastily. "They tell me she's going to be just fine, but she's still sedated. They only let two of us in here at a time, and no one's had the heart to make Carl leave this evening."

He failed then, failed to protect Amanda, and now they're both injured. Pushing away the intense feeling of failure, he just nods, closing his eyes as a nurse bustles in, alerted by the machinery. The commotion wakes Carl, and as desperately as Rick wants to hide, to sink into the haze provided by his pain medication, his son needs him.

Once the medical staff clears the room, Evelyn stands and gives them a wobbly smile after leaning in to kiss Rick's cheek. "I'm going to fetch Shane before he drives the staff and poor Michonne crazy."

That leaves Rick to study Carl, who is perched on the edge of the couch like he's about to be grounded for months. It's not anxiety or fear Rick reads in Carl's huddled form, but guilt.

"Come over here, son." Rick pats the bed on his uninjured side. At first, he thinks Carl isn't going to come, but then in a flurry of movement, his son crosses the room and curls onto the bed beside him as if he were much younger than eighteen. Running a hand across Carl's messy hair, Rick isn't surprised when Carl starts sobbing.

He doesn't press for answers, just rubs Carl's back. Details will come later, either from Carl or Shane or someone. For now, Carl needs him, and Rick's still alive to cuddle his son while he cries.

That's enough for now.

When Shane appears, the frustrated hesitance on his brother's face makes Rick shudder. It doesn't stop Rick from leaning over Carl in a parody of a group hug.

"I'm tempted to fire you and wrap you in bubble wrap both," Shane mutters, voice husky with unshed tears. He blinks when he raises up, and then slowly, he fills in the blanks for Rick that explain far more of Carl's upset than just his father getting shot.

Rick outright begs to be allowed to go to Amanda's bedside, and he isn't entirely surprised that it's denied. There's not much sleep to be had that night, even though he trusts that Amanda is never alone any more than he is. Her brothers and Lori would never allow that.

It isn't until the morning rounds that he gets the clearance to move into the wheelchair, and he understands the caution. Movement that big feels like he's being torn in half even with pain medications, and it takes both Shane and a stout male nurse to get him settled. But Shane wheels him next door, where Amanda lies pale and unmoving under Daryl's guardianship.

"They said they're tapering off the meds this morning," Daryl tells them without prompting. "Hoping she wakes up faster than you did, Sleeping Beauty."

The attempt at humor soothes Rick's worries a bit. Daryl isn't the type for false hope.

"I'm sure she will," he tells Daryl. "She probably would see it as a competition."

Once Rick is close enough to reach for Amanda, he eases her hand into his and reviews her injuries. Shattered ribs, liver so damaged they removed a third of it, and a broken arm. It could have been so much worse, and he strokes his fingers across her palm.

"Might want to get to that waking up, Amanda. Cocks ticking for you to wake up and yell at me for being out of bed." Maybe he imagines the curl of her fingers against his, but he squeezes her hand anyway. "C'mon, darling. Everything will be alright, just as soon as you wake up."

That's the truth of it. As long as Amanda wakes, everything really will be alright.