Shane is groggy, fighting his way past pain and confusion. His mind feels stuck in a loop of those hours and days after Rick was shot, where he wished it were him instead. Something's wrong with that sluggish idea, and he fights with whatever it is making his arm ache.

"Hey, deputy, you can't pull out your IV."

His wrist is seized in a gentle, but firm, grip. He blinks, vision finally clearing as a pretty blonde girl comes into view. Something rests against his face, and his brain groggily supplies nasal cannula as the culprit. "They hiring baby nurses now?"

She giggles and shakes her head, letting go of his wrist now that he is more aware of his surroundings. "My sister asked me to sit with you while she ran to the restroom."

As the fog of leftover painkillers recedes, Shane's memories trickle back. The pretty deer that let Carl get nearly close enough to touch. But then there was the flash of movement, the gun being raised, and no time to do anything but tackle the boy.

Followed by searing pain and the inability to breathe. Rick's pale, terrified face above his in a terrible mirror of that day by the highway. The room clearly isn't a hospital, but he doesn't remember being brought here. Finding Sophia? Jesus Christ, please let that part not be some hallucination.

"Carl? He was hurt, I think." The sound of bone breaking grinds into his memory.

"Yeah, he broke his arm. It's all splinted up now, but he'll be okay." The girl smiles brightly, tucking a loose lock of blond hair behind her ear. She's a petite little thing, probably a year or two older than Carl, but she looks healthy and is wearing a white blouse that definitely hasn't seen traveling days. "I'm Beth. My daddy operated on you."

"Where is everyone?" It seems odd that none of his own people are here, wherever here is. He's got a good view of the room, because there seems to be a dozen pillows crammed around him. Moving his right arm is quickly shown to be a very bad idea.

"Supper, downstairs. I brought Maggie's plate." Beth points to the side table, where a plate of food reminds Shane's stomach it's ravenous and nauseous at the same time. He's hoping hunger wins out, because something tells him the movement required to vomit is going to make him want to pass out again.

"He's awake?" The new voice drags Shane's attention from the blonde to a brunette in the doorway. She's not smiling, not as happy as her sister seems to be to see him awake. With the weird fluttering attention span he seems possessed of right now, he thinks they are night and day for sisters in looks and personality.

Beth rolls her eyes before turning to Maggie. "Far as I can tell. Awful coherent for sleep talking. Do you talk in your sleep, deputy?"

"I'll go get Daddy." Apparently, Maggie is happy for the excuse to leave and ignores the teenage sass. If she's a nurse, her bedside manner isn't exactly well developed. She disappears before her sister can object.

"Sure, leave the one with no training and go play messenger." It doesn't look like Beth actually objects, as she leans forward and pats the hand that has the IV in it as if she thinks he needs comfort for being left with an unskilled watcher.

Shane chuckles, even though it makes his chest ache and protest. "Logic ain't her strong point?"

Beth just smiles serenely. "Maggie's not much on patients that can talk back. She's Daddy's veterinary assistant."

That's the best irony, Shane thinks. Get shot in the woods by a careless hunter and get patched up by a damned vet. "Least he ain't a proctologist."

That sends the girl into a fit of giggles, but further jokes are curtailed by the arrival of an older man in a starched shirt and suspenders, Rick hot on his heels.

"Shane, Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of everyone." It's Rick jerking up short of hugging him that makes Shane wonder just how bad things got while he was out. His brother is damn near twitching with the urge to touch him, he thinks.

"Better me than Carl." It is simple as that, for Shane. He stifles a groan as the vet goes through his exam.

"You are a rather lucky man, Deputy Walsh. If you'd been upright when that bullet hit, I suspect we would be holding your funeral instead of having this conversation." After making notes in a small notebook similar to what he and Rick used on duty, the vet tucks it in his pocket. "Thankfully, your quick thinking spared the boy worse injury, and my farm hand Otis from having a death on his hands."

"Long as Carl is alright, that's the important part." Shane feels Rick's hand on his shoulder and looks up to see the shimmer of tears in the other man's eyes. "What's the damage, doc?"

"Broken right collarbone, punctured right lung, lacerated liver, and a collection of fancy new scars. The collarbone will probably plague you the most. Had to use veterinary bone plates to put it back together, and it'll be noticable later if you put any kind of strap over that shoulder."

"Hershel's agreed we can stay here on the farm while you recover, especially with Carl's arm, too." From the strained air between the two men, Shane thinks something less than polite occurred while he was out. If he's lucky, the gossipy, happy teenager will know and spill the beans.

"It's the Christian thing to do," Hershel grumbles, handing Shane a set of pills, followed by a cup of water. "Painkillers and something for nausea. In the morning, you'll need to start an oral antibiotic, but we should have you covered for now with the IV drip."

Shane looks up to the bed's headboard to see a mostly empty bag of saline with another bag piggybacked to it. "Looks like I'm in good hands, doc."

Even his best smile doesn't gain a response from the dour man, but he does nod in acknowledgement. "Need to stay elevated for the lung and the collarbone. If you need the bathroom facilities, make sure one of the men is on hand to escort you in case you fall. Keep the oxygen for the night, and we'll assess the lung again in the morning."

Hershel glances to his daughter, who is perched in the chair, munching her way through her sister's intended supper. With a deep sigh, the man frowns at Beth. "Since you're eating Maggie's meal, you're volunteering to sit with the deputy for the evening."

"We can do that," Rick says earnestly. "My wife and I, or even the kids."

"There's good food needing to be eaten. Beth can sit with him while supper's finished. And as none of your people have medical training, Maggie and Otis will take turns tonight, but your family is welcome to fill the hours in between."

"Can Shane eat anything, Daddy?" Beth asks before Shane gets the chance.

"You're welcome to make him some broth when you take your plate down. That will give his medications time to work. If the broth settles, he can have a light meal in a few hours." Hershel's bedside manner is similar to Maggie's, because he simply leaves the room without any further speech.

Rick smiles sheepishly. "Guess I better go eat before he's insulted I'm wasting food." With a squeeze to Shane's uninjured arm, he follows.

Glancing over to Beth, Shane finds the blonde is halfway through the plate of food. "Don't worry. Patricia already put some food away for you for later, and the broth is fresh, not canned. Almost as good as soup."

"You did that on purpose," he says softly. "Taking your sister's food." Shane just isn't sure whose feelings she's sparing yet, his or her sister's.

"Maggie is distrustful of strangers these days. You didn't ask to be shot or do anything wrong. It's only right that we had to look after you and Carl."

"Being distrustful of strangers isn't a bad thing, you know. Not everyone out there will be good people." Shane thinks of whoever slaughtered that nursing home full of people and hates the thought of them finding a place like this.

"I know. But I just have a good feeling about this. Maybe you're supposed to be here. The being shot part really sucks, but I dunno." She shrugs her thin shoulders. "It's hard to explain. Sometimes you just know something is supposed to line up."

"An instinct. Intuition." When the girl smiles brightly at him adding to her nebulous idea, Shane smiles back. At least one of the locals is happy they're here, and they can use the time to regroup, especially with the collarbone putting him out of action for six weeks or more. He's seen this type of injury before, and it's going to be a bitch to recover from.

Supper must be finishing up, because Shane spies two shy and freshly scrubbed children in the doorway. "C'mere, you two."

They ease toward him on Beth's side of the bed, both eyeing his heavily bandaged right side with trepidation. Sophia half hides behind Carl, peering out around him. The boy leans in to press his face against Shane's shoulder when he motions with the arm he's got the IV in and keeps the IV line out of the way.

"It's all my fault," he says, beginning to sob softly as Shane hugs him the best he can.

"It's none of your fault, buddy, not one bit." Shane hates that he can't really hug him, just pull him close to reassure him. Gratitude floods him as Rick appears and gently eases Carl away into a firm hug.

Sophia replaces Carl, but she actually climbs carefully onto the bed, easing her small frame against his as if she were a much younger child. "Hey, sweetheart. Seem to remember you helping keep me patched together out there."

She sniffles, but doesn't cry. "You found me."

Shane isn't sure if she's forgetting he wasn't alone, or if it's because Rick lost her or even because he got hurt so soon after, but he isn't going to argue logistics with a vulnerable kid. Rick's pride can withstand being left out. "We all looked everywhere for you. Daryl and Andrea were even out during the night."

As boneheaded stupid as he thinks their little trip was, it's a perfect story for a scared kid. "Really?"

"Yeah. You can go ask Andrea." Running a hand along her back like he would to reassure Carl, he sees Carol and Lori hesitating in the doorway. "Bet your mama would take you to chat with her."

Sophia eases off the bed as nimbly as she got to him. The shifting bed isn't comfortable, but he keeps a straight face for the girl's sake. Beth gathers up her plate and gives him a soft smile. "I'll see you later, Deputy."

It leaves room for his family to stay, with Rick taking the chair on his unwounded side and scooting close once Carl is in Lori's arms. He leans on the bed, head in hands, long enough that Shane reaches out and wraps his hand around Rick's wrist. He sees split knuckles and is reminded of Sophia saying something about him punching the man who shot Shane.

When Rick looks up, he smiles as best he can. "I'm guessing things got a little hairy after y'all got me out of the woods?" Based on the fading sunlight, he's lost the entire day. It was maybe ten in the morning when they found Sophia.

"A little. The vet had some supplies, but we had to run to town, too. Cleared out his clinic. Wanted to try a field hospital, but his older girl, Maggie, pitched a fit about idiots rushing into danger."

If Maggie had to argue with Rick when his mind was made up about something, that would explain her sour mood, he thinks. People like to see him as the confrontational one, and maybe he is the short fused half of their partnership, but when Rick does get stubborn? It nearly takes God himself to dissuade him.

"Does that explain why it looks like you've had your lip busted?" Shane asks, trying not to laugh when Rick looks disgruntled. "It is, isn't it? You made the farm girl have to pop you one."

Rick shrugs, but he's flushed as red as his complexion allows. "We got back here with what Hershel needed to do more than just keep you barely alive. God, Shane, there was so much blood, and your type is so rare."

Ah, well that would complicate things. In the old world, hospitals always had a supply due to universal donor issues. Now? He can't imagine. "I'm guessing y'all figured something out?"

"That's part of why Hershel is upset," Lori says softly. "Beth's the only one. She gave two pints, and he was pretty angry she did the second without asking him."

"Tiny as she is? Can't say I blame the man. Not sure she'd make the weight to donate even one for the Red Cross standards. Where did y'all get the stuff for that? Raid a Red Cross bus somewhere?"

"Apparently, human blood bags are used in veterinary care for animal transfusions sometimes. But he couldn't blood type anyone who didn't know their type already, since he didn't have those supplies." Rick traces the damaged skin on his knuckles before looking up at Shane again. "You gotta take it easy, brother. We can't lose you."

Shane pats his forearm. "Ain't going anywhere, Rick, you know that."

And for the first time since Rick reappeared, when Shane looks at Lori, she seems to agree with him about that. Pressing her for more was stupid and foolish and almost went down an unforgivable path. This? Having the three of them all gathered around like family is supposed to, he makes up his mind to be content with what he has, because he almost lost everything.


A/N: No Beth POV, but hopefully enough of the sassy girl to tide y'all over.

A reminder that this is a non-Judith story, at least as far as her being Shane's. She may appear later, but as Rick's child if she does.