A/N Thanks so much for all the reviews! You guys are the best! Keep 'em coming please :)

Looking forward to the upcoming marathon and the season 7 premier! Finally! Though at the same time I am seriously dreading it. At least I know my sexy sheriff is safe. Until we see him again with his beautiful silvery beard, here's the latest with his baby face...

Chapter Five

It's him! My God, it's really him. Erin stares in wondrous disbelief at the man who is fiercely holding onto Carl and Kelly with tears streaming down his smiling cheeks. She wipes her own eyes as more group members come up to watch the emotional reunion. Shifting on unsteady legs, she is grateful that she had already been standing by the cars when they'd arrived - she never would have made it across the camp otherwise, especially with the way the flutter in her belly had swooned into a dead faint.

How is this happening? Though it had been two weeks since she'd dreamt of sitting with Rick at his grandfather's lake, she woke up most mornings with him in her thoughts. Nothing profound or even slightly meaningful – he's just there, bright blue eyes and quiet strength, with her for a few moments before she shakes the sleepy cobwebs from her mind. Now the fact that he is standing only ten feet away feels like a dream itself. The only difference with this surreal reality is that he's wearing his uniform shirt, half unbuttoned, over the white tee he'd been wearing at the lake. Sweet baby Jesus, he looks good.

Rick looks at all the people that have gathered around them, searching for one particular face. "Where's your mom?" He asks Carl and sees the boy's face crumble before he buries his head against Rick's neck. He looks at his sister who shakes her head sadly.

Taking a step back, Kelly puts a comforting hand on Carl's shoulder. "She's gone, Rick," she answers softly.

"Oh, buddy. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He hugs Carl tighter as the boy burrows into his neck, fresh tears flowing down his cheeks. "I'm here, I've got you," he soothes.

"Rick, what happened?" his sister asks. "How are you here?"

"I don't know, Kel." He takes a few steps toward Shane. "All I remember is being in an ambulance one minute and then waking up in the hospital which looked like a war had blown through it. It was very disorienting, to put it mildly."

"I tried to get to you, man, but I couldn't." Shane tells him, voice tinged with shades of regret. "I swear I tried."

Rick nods his head slightly. "I'm just grateful that you got Carl and Kelly out. That means everything," he replies sincerely. "I can't thank you enough."

"How on earth did you find us?" Kelly asks, standing close to his side as he shifts Carl slightly within his arms.

"Not long after I woke up I ran into a man named Morgan and his son. They took care of me, explained everything," he says pensively, remembering that first night sitting in the candlelit room and learning that life as he knew it was irrevocably over. "I left them this morning to head down to the cabin, figured that's where you'd be. I stopped in Adamsville and ran into Glenn and Merle. I never would have found you if they hadn't been there." He scratches at the stitches just below his chest, irritated again after the little skirmish with the walkers.

"How're you feeling?" Shane asks. "You took a helluva shot, man. Maybe you should have Erin look at it. She's a nurse."

Rick watches Shane drape an arm across the redhead's shoulders proudly, possessively. His blue eyes meet her green ones and he is struck by a strong feeling of déjà vu, a fleeting image of burgundy nursing scrubs. "Uh, yeah," he stammers slightly. "It itches like hell but other than that it feels okay. It would be nice to get these stitches out though."

The woman looks down and steps out from beneath Shane's arm. "Sure, I can help you with that," she tells him warmly, sniffling through a smile.

He regards her closely and has to consciously keep his hand from reaching out to console her, to touch her just to know that she's alright. "Are you okay?" he asks, unable to explain the deep concern he feels, yet unable to ignore it.

"I'm fine." She laughs softly; a beautiful sound that caresses his soul. "It's just… really nice to meet Carl's father."

Thankful that she and Glenn had found a decent amount of medical supplies at the health center last week, Erin opens the well-stocked first aid kit and retrieves the forceps and surgical scissors. She places them on top of a small pink towel on the dirty tailgate of Daryl's pickup truck.

If they can't work in a lighted operatory, she is at least grateful for the bright sunlight shining down on her makeshift clinic. She is even more grateful that her hands have finally stopped trembling.

Her bare-chested patient sits next to her supplies, his left arm folded behind his head while his right arm supports his weight as he leans back at a slight angle. He smells like woods, musk and man and it is a tremendous effort to focus on her task as her hip brushes against his knee. Taking a deep breath, she reaches toward the upper quadrant of his abdomen. "Ready?" she asks him, two fingers working the corner of the square white bandage that covers the site.

"Yeah. On three, just do it qui-, ow!"

"Sorry, sneak attack is usually the best way to go with this kind of sticky bandage."

"Shit, that hurt." He whistles through his teeth. "Sorry, I'll put my balls back on now."

She laughs, enjoying his easygoing nature and sense of humor. "Yeah, it's time to nut up, as Merle would say. God, I can't believe I'm quoting Merle Douchebag Dixon now. This really is the end of the world."

He smiles at her as she reaches for her instruments. "What's his story anyway?" he asks.

"Just your everyday backwoods racist, chauvinistic, lecherous, drug addict. A real peach," she replies with a sarcastic smile.

"I guess you can't just kick him out, huh?"

"We'd love to but he came with his brother, Daryl, who is a real asset to the group. Unfortunately it's a package deal so we put up with Merle."

"Everyone else gets along alright? You've got quite a big group here."

"For the most part. I mean, in stressful situations – which you can't get much more stressful than this – people are going to have their issues. But we've gotten used to working and living together fairly well.

"Okay," she says, lifting her hands to his body. "Patients usually only feel a little pinch when taking stitches out, but these have been in there for a long time so it may be a little worse."

"It's okay. Just no more sneak attacks," he says with a smirk.

"No, I'll go slowly with these. Just hold still." She carefully cuts a suture beneath its knot and pulls it away gently with the forceps, tugging the skin slightly with it.

He hisses through the pain but doesn't flinch. "What about that guy there?" His blue eyes motion toward the man standing under an oak tree about forty feet away, cigarette in hand and scowl in place as he watches their proceedings from a distance.

Erin glances over as Ed Peletier takes a long drag on his cigarette. "That's Ed. He's our other peach. He's married to Carol, the woman with the short gray hair." She looks toward the campsite and spots her friend. "She's sitting at the table there with their daughter, Sophia."

"That's Carl's little friend, right?" he asks.

"Yeah," she answers, looking up to meet his eyes. "I worry about her and her mom."

"He abuses them?"

"Not publicly, but yeah – behind closed doors I think he does. I tried talking to her about it once, but she just walked away and ignored me for two days."

"Well, we'll keep an eye on them. And if you ever do see him hurting her, do not get involved. You come find me or Shane and we'll take care of it. Just stay away from that guy, okay?"

"It's a little difficult when we're living in tents less than twenty feet from each other," she answers stubbornly and it feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if this is just one of many conversations they've shared.

"Erin, I'm serious." Something in his tone makes her look up and she sees a spark of darkness harden his eyes. "Stay away from him," he adds in a gentler, almost pleading voice that immediately softens his expression.

"Fine. But you guys better be there to protect them," she replies and then lowers her gaze back to his chest.

"We will be, don't worry." He tenses up as she starts pulling at the next suture. "So, you and Shane, huh? Ouch!"

"Sorry," she apologizes for pulling a little too hard at the mention of herself and Shane together. She places the cut suture on the towel and moves onto the next one, more gently. "No, there is no Shane and I and there never will be."

"Sorry, I just thought… the way he had his arm around you before."

"Yeah, that was for your benefit - he was marking his territory." She pulls the third suture out. "I guess I should be grateful that he didn't pee on me."

"Well that's not usually his style," he says, laughing despite the pain he must be feeling as she grips another stitch. "So, you're not with him then?"

She drops the suture onto the towel with the other snippets and looks back up to him. "Despite his display earlier – no, I'm not," she replies adamantly.

"Wow. I think you're the first woman who's ever turned him down."

"Exactly, which is why he won't let up." She goes back to remove the next suture.

"Well, that and the fact that you're beautiful and intelligent," he says absently before cursing in pain as the next suture is removed. "Despite the fact that you like inflicting pain. Christ, that hurt."

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you, Rick, I swear." She holds her laughter but can't help smiling at his words.

"I know, let's just get this over with. How many more are there?"

"Looks like seven."

"Fuck," he groans.

She hesitates for just a moment, and then gives him a sly grin. "And then we'll do your back."

He groans even deeper. "Shit, maybe we'll just leave those in," he says, rolling his shoulders as if trying to alleviate a sore muscle. "Sorry. I know. I'm nutting up now. So, fill me in on everyone else at camp."

"Well, Kelly and Carl you already know. He's a great kid, by the way. You've done a really good job with him."

"Thanks. That means more than you know," he says sincerely.

"And now that you're back, Shane won't be his primary role model, thank God."

"He's really not that bad, Erin."

"You sound just like your sister. Look, I don't know what he was like before the world went to hell, but where most of us are scared shitless day and night, he's not just surviving – he's thriving. This is his day in the sun, like he's waited his whole life for this. That can't be healthy."

"Fine, I'll keep an eye on him too," he says and she notices him looking over and taking in the expanse of the campsite where most of the people are busy with various tasks, his own son included as he helps Kelly set up another air mattress in their tent. "You've got quite a set up here."

"Yeah, we had a couple of tents to start and then Glenn and T-Dog raided a Cabela's and a Target to scrounge up a few larger ones along with folding cots, air mattresses, sleeping bags, blankets and pillows. If this wasn't turning into a permanent home with a shortage of food and danger lurking around the corner, it would actually be a pretty nice campout," she finishes with a smile. "Oh, we've also got a decent supply of assorted clothes filling up Andrea's car. Help yourself to whatever you need."

He nods his head in appreciation. "That's great, thanks. So where did you live before all this?" he asks, lifting his chin in the direction of the tents.

"I grew up in Chestnut Ridge, New York and then went to school down here at Emory. Now I have - or had anyway - a townhouse in Sandy Springs."

"Sandy Springs? Damn, you must be a hell of a nurse to afford a place up there."

"I am." She gives him a cheeky grin.

"That's debatable!" He laughs. "I'll let you know when we're finished."

"I am good!" she defends herself, delighting in their easy banter. "But getting a three million dollar inheritance gift from a patient really helped."

"What? Three million?" He whistles, clearly impressed at the number. "How the hell did you manage that?"

She gently tugs at another knot, eliciting a soft hiss from him while a streak of perspiration drips down the back of her neck. The stifling heat of the unusually hot Spring day weighs thick and oppressive on her back but the solid warmth of his knee against her hip provides a strange source of comfort as she begins to tell him her story.

"During my first year out of school, this old guy came into the E.R. with congestive heart failure. After fighting lung cancer for nearly a year, he was in bad shape but he hung on for another two months. He was a stubborn old bastard but I liked him immediately, probably because he reminded me of my grandfather and I was going through one of my bouts of feeling homesick." She tamps down a stronger feeling of homesickness that suddenly clogs her throat.

"Anyway, he had two sons who lived within a couple of hours of the hospital but never came to see him until the very end. He would talk about them with pride, telling me how hard they worked and what fine men they had grown up to be, but I knew it hurt him a lot that they didn't visit. So every day after my shift ended I would sit with him for a couple of hours before going home. We played chess for the first few weeks and then started a game of Risk. It took us almost a month to get through that game." She smiles at the memory of Joe yelling at the hospital staff to be careful around the table that held the game board with the miniscule soldiers, horses and canons spread about the continents.

"Who won the game?" Rick asks softly, caught up in the story.

"He did, of course, but I kept it close up until the end. I made a valiant effort." She smiles proudly.

"I'm sure you did," he responds warmly. "Nice job."

Erin nods her thanks as she looks up into his striking blue eyes, a lump forming in her throat once again. "He passed away two days later."

"And left you three million dollars."

"I had no idea he was filthy rich until I got a letter a few months later. I wasn't going to keep any of it but the note that came with it made me reconsider. He said I had become the daughter he never had and he needed to know that all three of his children were taken care of. He knew that I lived in a not-so-great part of town which always worried him. Every day he'd ask 'Did you get out of that shithole yet?'" she mimics in a deep voice. She swallows the growing lump and continues, "So I kept enough to buy my townhouse and a nice car and gave the rest to the American Cancer Association. His sons each inherited over 35 million so I didn't feel like I was forcing them to live in squalor if I accepted the money."

"And they didn't contest it?"

"No, they were actually really good about it. Said they appreciated the time I'd spent with their father and wanted me to have the money. I definitely wouldn't have taken it otherwise," she says, shaking her head to convey her point. "But had I known he was a stinking rich tycoon I never would have let him win the game either," she finishes, laughter dancing in her eyes.

"Yes you would have," he responds sincerely. "You really are a hell of a nurse. So what made you decide to become one?"

She looks down at the instruments forgotten in her hands, debating exactly how much to tell him. Looking back up into his handsome face with those cerulean eyes, she peers into the window of a soul that makes her feel safe, really safe, for the first time in weeks. She decides to tell him everything.

"There was a fifteen year old girl diagnosed with leukemia and given six months to live. She was so angry and frustrated, mad at the world and the man who had created it. She was too angry to even consider treatment, thinking it was just a painful waste of time. So she just gave up, laid in bed feeling bitterly sorry for herself that she'd never learn to drive a car or go to the prom. Then she met a nurse named Mary that didn't coddle or pity her. Told her it was her choice to either fight or check out - but don't waste their time or bed space. Said she could hook her up to the morphine drip and it could all be over."

"Jesus. What happened to the girl?" he asks.

"She learned to drive at the age of eighteen, went to the prom with a cute boy who had more hair than she did, eventually went on to nursing school and now lives with a group of people surviving on the edge of an old quarry while the world drifts closer to hell every day." She smiles with a shrug as she lets her words sink in.

"Oh my God." His eyes widen as he realizes who she is talking about. His left arm slowly lowers to rest his fist on the tailgate and she backs up slightly as he leans forward. "Do you need medication? Maybe we can find a hospital that hasn't been overrun," he says quickly, sounding deeply concerned.

"No, it's fine. But thanks. I've actually been in remission for four years now."

"So what if it comes back?"

"Without the use of modern medicine to test bloodwork, I won't know it's back until I feel symptoms. By that time any kind of treatment would probably be too late. I'm not really worried about it though – odds are more likely that I'll be killed by a walker before the cancer gets a second shot to do me in, right?" she says with a pragmatic smirk.

The tired look on his face carries a strange fusion of fear, frustration and respect, which causes her to look down again at the stilled forceps in her hand. "Anyway, that's why I became a nurse – paying it forward, I guess. I wouldn't be here if not for Mary. She made me want to fight and stuck with me through all my treatments. I figured maybe I could do the same for somebody else." She lifts her chin to catch his gaze again. "So what about you? Why did you become a cop? Wanted to save the world, or you just liked the uniform?"

"Yeah," he replies with a smirk. "I loved that hat – I'm sorry I left it in the patrol car. But the truth is… I liked the guns and the idea of having a license to kick some lowlife ass once in a while."

"Nice," she laughs.

"Seriously though, my stepdad Ray was a cop. I went through a rough period for a while when I was fourteen. My father was a miserable person and a mean drunk but I was devastated when he left us. I got into fights, hung out with the wrong crowd, drank a lot," he admits, a touch of regret lacing his voice. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, right?" he adds, rolling his eyes in self-contempt.

The need to comfort him weighs heavily on her heart but Erin isn't aware of moving her arm until she feels the warm polyester of his uniform pants beneath her fingers. With a loose fist resting just above his knee, she tries to envision a troubled teenage Rick as he continues the story.

"I was angry at my mom for letting him go, which was stupid because he was never around anyway and it wasn't her fault, but I didn't see that at the time. I also didn't find out 'til much later that he was abusing her," he says softly, looking down as he picks at a small clump of dirt embedded in the truck. "She hid it well, from all of us."

Erin's heart breaks for the younger version of this man and his less than stellar childhood. Unwarranted feelings of helpless guilt are still evident in his eyes as he looks up at her once again.

"Anyway, Ray picked me up one night with some derelict friends of mine; it was my fifteenth birthday and I got caught shoplifting some beer for our little celebration. He brought me home and told me to stay out of trouble. He brought me home again the next month and once more after that. God, I can't believe what I put my mother through back then," he says, stark remorse filling his voice. "But Ray took me under his wing, became the father figure I never had and straightened me out. A couple years later he married my mom and got Shane and me into the police academy," he finishes, straightening his shoulders proudly.

"And the rest, they say, is history," she says with a bright smile that he returns, warming her heart.

"Alright, Red" he lifts his arm back behind his head. "Let's get this over with already or I'm gonna have a nasty sunburn to take my mind off the pain you've inflicted on me," he says with a wink which makes her little flutter grin madly in the pit of her belly.

She smiles at his teasing. "As you wish." The sunlight gleams off of the scissors as she lifts her hands up to his body once again, her heart feeling both heavy and light after all that they had shared.