Rick's eyes popped open on a quiet living room. He shot up to a sitting position and immediately felt pressure on his lungs that told him to lay back down. He scanned the room for signs of Carl and his eyes fell on a piece of paper placed on the table in front of him. He reached out, grasping the paper and straightening it.

Dad,

Went with Michonne to look for food. We'll be back by mid-day. She says you shouldn't walk around, and drink water.

Carl

Rick looked down and noticed that he was still in his boxers, and his clothes were folded neatly next to the couch. His bullet wound had been completely stitched closed and bandaged, and two more Tylenol were placed on the table, next to leftovers of a can of Spaghetti-O's.

He listened but could hear no other sounds, which told him he was alone. He tried sitting up again, this time more slowly, and with many grunts and wheezes he was upright.

He picked up his shirt and realized it was literally rags, covered in blood, dirt, and huge holes from his fight with the Governor. Chucking it back to the floor, he grabbed his jeans and carefully crept them up his legs, past his wound. He held onto the arm of the couch, and used his upper body strength to push himself to a standing position. He then could properly put his pants and his gun belt on.

All of that movement had him breathing heavily, and his body ached all over from his bruises. He noticed two jugs of water nearby and he took a swig from one of them, using the water to swallow down the Tylenol pills.

Now that he was somewhat dressed and had taken the pills, he could take a moment to figure out his situation. What time was it? What day was it? How long had he been out? Where was Carl?

He looked into the can of Spaghetti-O's and saw that two or three spoonfuls had been left, presumably for him. The contents were still moist and looked somewhat appetizing, so he figured Carl and the woman hadn't been gone long. He picked up the can and emptied the contents into his mouth, soothing his grumbling stomach.

He had to find Carl. He was with Michonne, but he'd just met the woman yesterday. What if she had some plan to kidnap Carl as soon as he was knocked out? Carl had a gun and he knew how to use it, but he was just a kid.

Rick took a step and almost fell on the floor. His leg could barely hold his weight. Maybe Michonne was right about him not walking around. He looked down the hallway leading to the living room and noticed an office chair in an open bedroom further down the hall.

Rick hopped down the hallway on his good leg, only allowing the slightest of pressure on his injured leg so that he could maneuver. He made it into the bedroom, and promptly plopped into the office chair which had wheels on the bottom. He nodded, satisfied that he now had a reasonable way to get around the house. On the floor was a white undershirt and he picked it up, shaking dust from it. He carefully pulled it over his head. It was a size too small, but it was better than going shirtless.

Looking around the bedroom he noticed a pair of panties and a tank top that were hanging over the side of the bed to dry. He used his good leg to roll the chair up to the bed.

He picked up the panties and examined them. They were dark purple, with black lace around the waistband and leg openings. They were practical, and not meant to be sexy, but Rick's mind involuntarily pictured Michonne wearing those panties. And then, before he could push that picture away, he remembered how she looked without them.

Disturbed by where his thoughts were going, Rick placed the panties back where he'd found them, and rolled out of the room. It had been years since he'd touched panties of any kind, but that still didn't give him an excuse to be a pervert.

He was taken aback by his sudden feelings. Obviously he was attracted to Michonne. She was self reliant and capable to have survived this long alone. She'd saved his life, and Carl apparently trusted her enough to go on a run with her.

He had never thought about the women in his group as anything more than family. Of course, he was married to Lori when he'd met them, but even after that there was no one that he'd been attracted to. He didn't know why he was developing these feelings now.

Needing to get away from the source of his unwanted lustful feelings, Rick rolled back into the living room and up to the front window. Across the street was another dilapidated house, and then a wooded area. Rick searched down the road for any sign of Carl and Michonne returning but he saw nothing. He checked his watch. 1:06 pm. It was midday, they should've been back.

He rolled away from the window and to the front door. He opened it and rolled onto the porch enough to see further down the road, when he spotted movement. There was a group of eight men emerging from the woods a quarter mile down the road from the house.

Rick immediately hustled back inside the house and closed and locked the door. He rolled back to the window to see what direction the group was headed in, and his stomach dropped when he saw they were coming down the road in his direction. He had no idea if they'd stop by the house or keep going, but he scrambled back to the couch, collecting all of their belongings that were spread around the living room. His torn shirt, the medical supplies, Carl's note, one of the water jugs because he couldn't carry both, and a few other things. He piled everything onto his lap, and then checked the window once again to see where the men were now.

To his dismay they'd moved even closer, now just a few hundred feet away. One man was ahead of the pack, and his authoritarian demeanor let Rick know that he was in charge. The others followed behind, carrying an assortment of weapons, from knives, to bats, to bow and arrows. They seemed disheveled and dirty, and Rick's training as a police officer told him that they weren't friendly.

Unsure what to do, Rick rolled away from the window and down the hallway again, so that he couldn't be seen from the front porch.

He waited for a few minutes, hoping they'd just walk past, but his stomach dropped when he heard their voices through the windows.

"We'll check this one boys. See what we can find."

Panicking, Rick got out the chair and pushed it back into the bedroom where he'd found it. He limped over to a closet in the room and threw all of the belongings inside before getting inside himself and closing the door.

The front porch creaked as the men gathered on it. He heard knocking on the windows from them trying to draw walkers that way. The front window shattered, and there was a racket as one climbed through and opened the door for the rest of them.

Rick checked his gun. He only had two bullets, and he could barely walk, let alone run to get away.

He listened as the men creaked their way through the living room. Occasionally, one of them would yell out "claimed!" to Rick's bewilderment.

"Hey, found a opened can," someone called. "Somebody's been here recently."

"Look at the blood. They were bleeding pretty bad."

Rick looked down at his bandaged wound, kicking himself that he didn't bother to pick up the evidence of his surgery.

"Hey, I claim that water jug," a voice said.

"You see it's in my fucking hand, right?" a second responded.

"I ain't hear you claim it."

"Claimed!"

"Too late, I already claimed it first."

"You want it? Come get it," the second threatened.

"C'mon boys, y'all know the rules, Don claimed it first," another man said.

"I ain't givin' it to him. I'm literally holding it. He can get his own damn water jug."

"Bucky, you don't follow the rules you know what happens," the other man warned.

"I said he ain't gettin' it. Y'all think you can take me, go ahead and try. This lil' fucker's been messing with me since I joined y'all and I'm not gonna take his shit anymore."

Rick could hear nothing but silence for a few seconds, and he gripped his weapon tightly.

"Well, you know what we gotta do. Teach him boys, but not all the way. Just so he remembers how things work here."

All of a sudden there was a scuffle in the living room. Rick could hear furniture being shoved aside, punches, grunts, yells, and a big thud, as they "taught" someone.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry," someone yelled. "Fine, he can have it. Take the fuckin' jug!", but the beating continued.

Rick looked through the small slits in the closet door and observed the room's window. If he was going to escape, this would be a good time. He cracked the door open slightly, but he heard footsteps coming down the hall towards the room and he quickly closed it again.

Someone entered the room as the beating continued. He could hear the sound of his boots pounding on the wooden floor. Rick could only make out the person from the waist down through the closet slits, but he took a leisurely stroll through the room, obviously not aware of Rick's presence. He saw the man look through the dresser, pulling out random clothing. He then turned to the bed and noticed Michonne's panties and shirt which Rick had left on the headboard.

The man picked up the underwear and smelled it. Rick felt his skin crawl. It felt so creepy that this man was checking out her underwear, even though it was similar to what Rick himself had done a few minutes ago. The man held it in front of himself, stretching it and rubbing his face against it.

Rick felt an unexplained anger build up inside of him. He wanted to punch this man so badly.

"Hey, I claim the underwear found in here, and the lady that left it!" the man screamed loud enough for others to hear.

"You found a lady?" someone else called.

"Nah, I found panties, just washed. And a shirt."

Someone else entered the room behind the first man. "You yelling about some panties?"

"I claim 'em, and the lady if we find her. She might come back, we found her food and water. She wouldn't wash her stuff and leave it."

Rick shifted slightly and the floor underneath him let out a squeak. He froze, as did the men in the room, but they dismissed the sound.

"We're staying here for a few hours boys," someone called from the living room. "Get comfy."

The two men looked at the single queen sized bed in the middle of the room.

"Claimed!" they said simultaneously.

"Nah man, I was in here first."

"You claimed the panties and the lady, not the bed. Get the fuck outta my way," the second man said, pushing past the first and flopping onto the bed.

The first man grabbed the second by the feet and motioned like he was going to yank him completely off the bed, but the second pulled a gun on the first and cocked it.

"Chill man, it's yours," the first said, backing away and leaving the bedroom.

Rick's good leg was tiring, and his injured leg was aching from squatting in the same position in the closet, but he tried to stay as still as possible. He could hear the other men spread throughout the house, probably claiming their own spots in different corners of the home.

The man on the bed moaned and groaned as he flopped over to find a comfortable position. He held the gun in his hand until he settled on curling up on his side, facing the door. He placed the gun underneath his pillow and closed his eyes.

Rick sat in the closet listening to the other men move around, until the snores from the man on the bed became loud, and shuffling around the house died down. He could hear other snores coming from the living room.

He knew this was his chance. Michonne and Carl would be back any minute now.

He removed his belt from his waistband, and slowly pulled the closet door open with as little noise as possible. The man didn't stir, he seemed to be in a deep sleep, but the room's door was wide open. Rick listened for a sign that anyone was near to the door, but he didn't hear anything but snores.

Trying not to limp too loud, he pushed the door closed, but not completely so the sound didn't disturb the sleeping man. To his horror he heard a voice from the living room.

"Dan, why are you closing the door? Plan on jerking off?"

"Hey, shut up, some of us are trying to sleep," someone else called.

Rick turned to the man, but he simply flipped over and continued snoring. No one from the living room said anything else. He crept to the window, and to his horror he saw Carl and Michonne coming down the road. He knew he had to act now.

Rick let out a wheezing breath, and limped over to the bed. When the man changed positions it left his gun visible underneath his pillow. Rick needed it. He only had two bullets left in his own. He reached out slowly and grasped the gun, pulling it from underneath the pillow and tucking it into the waistband of his jeans.

Unexpectedly, the man flipped again, and his arm smacked into Rick's hand. The man's eyes flew open, and totally bewildered he started to say "Who are…", but Rick wrapped the belt around his neck and tightened it.

The man began to kick, and while Rick tightened the belt with one hand, he held his hand over the man's mouth and nose with the other. The flailing man elbowed Rick in the ribs, and Rick let out a yell that he quickly quieted. He climbed onto the man's chest, ignoring the pain in his own body, and put as much pressure there as possible. The man's eyes were wide as he continued to flail, slowly suffocating.

Rick gritted his teeth and pulled, putting all of his energy into cutting off the man's oxygen. His flails became less and less effective, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Rick continued to pull, until there was no more resistance and the man lay motionless on the bed. Rick pulled off the man's jacket, and put it on as he gasped for breath.

Rick was desperate for oxygen and aching all over, but he limped to the window and pulled it up with a loud scraping noise. At this point he didn't care if he was heard, he had to warn Carl and Michonne to get out of there. He pulled up the window's screen and climbed out, using only his arms and his good leg. He landed in the bushes and gained more scratches from the foliage.

He crawled from the bushes and heard a loud voice from the living room say, "What the heck is going on in there Dan?"

Rick stood up and hobbled away from the house, waving his arms at Michonne and Carl to hide.

When Michonne spotted him limping towards them and waving his arms towards the woods, she grabbed Carl and pulled him into the tree line. A few seconds later she re-emerged and ran up to Rick, helping him limp away.

They could hear screaming coming from the house and loud growls, but surprisingly no one chased them.

***Can08writer***

Michonne was shocked to see Rick limping towards them, and alarmed when she heard screams radiating from the house. She made sure Carl was safely hidden before grabbing Rick and running into the woods, leaving their meager belongings that were inside the house behind.

It wasn't the first time she'd had to leave everything behind. It meant weeks of struggle and insecurity as she looked for more water, more first aid, more food. Leaving everything behind usually meant sleepless, hungry, cold nights without a fire. She'd spend those nights talking to Mike, and sometimes Andre, her only companions in this world.

But it was different this time. She'd lost her supplies, but she had someone to share the hunger and cold with, and somehow that made it better. She was uncomfortable with how invested she'd become in this man and his son, but she didn't find herself obsessing over the next plan, the next safe place, the next beach, or island that she had to hustle to. She wanted to make sure Rick and Carl were safe at least, and if they wanted to go their separate ways after that so be it.

They'd been walking along in silence for a while, just trying to get out of the immediate area of the house. Rick was grunting, and obviously in pain, but they couldn't stop. Those men could easily catch up with them here.

"Where can we go?" she muttered, positioning herself so that Rick could lean more of his weight on her shoulder.

Her question shocked him because she said we. She was including herself. She wanted to join them. And boy did he want her to join them.

"I'm not sure. But we need to find shelter for the night."

They walked for a little while longer, but Michonne could tell Rick was tiring. He was hopping on his good leg, and his lungs still hadn't recovered from his broken rib.

"Here, take a rest," she said, pointing to a cluster of roots that jutted up from the ground. He hopped over and sat down gratefully.

"I'm going to scout ahead, look for a place for us to hunker down for the night."

"Wait, you shouldn't go alone," Rick said.

"I'll be fine," Michonne replied, already walking away.

"Wait, Michonne! Can I come?" Carl asked, running to catch up with her.

Michonne turned and held up her hand to stop him. "No Carl, you need to stay with your dad. Keep him safe."

Carl opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but promptly shut it.

"Okay," he agreed.

Rick observed the scene thoughtfully from his seat, and then Michonne was gone, as if she melted into the woods.

Carl turned around and walked back to his father. Rick noticed he was avoiding his eyes, but he seemed slightly less angry than he'd been since the prison.

"Hey Carl, are you okay?" Rick asked.

Carl nodded and opened his pack, shuffling through a few things.

"What happened on that run with Michonne?" he inquired.

"We found some food in a house."

"Did you come across anything? Anyone?" Rick prodded.

Carl continued rummaging through the bag until he pulled out the can of pudding and held it out to Rick.

"Michonne and I ate some, but we left the rest for you."

Rick took the can and saw the spoon scrapes from Carl and Michonne, criss-crossing the brown gelatinous snack. He chuckled at the choice of food, and the fact that Michonne had enjoyed the pudding too.

"Thanks Carl," Rick said, licking off some pudding that got on his fingers. Carl passed him a spoon. "It's good that you found more food."

Rick thought a moment before continuing.

"I know we'll never get things back to the way they used to be. I only clung to that for you, for Judith. Now she's… gone. And you, you're a man Carl. You're a man. I'm sorry."

Carl's face turned slightly red. His father just acknowledged everything that he'd yelled at him while he was comatose. He wondered if subconsciously Rick had heard him. But it also felt good to get that acknowledgement, and his father's respect.

"You don't need to be," Carl responded with a nod.

Rick nodded in the direction Michonne had gone. "Is everything okay with her?"

"Yea dad. I think…"

Carl let out a small smile that surprised Rick.

"I think she may be one of us."

A/N: Once again, thank you for all the reviews. That is my motivation. I hope you're enjoying this so far!