A/N I hope everyone had a lovely holiday weekend (here in the U.S. anyway) and I will be extremely thankful to see our sexy sheriff back on my TV next Sunday. I love Tara but I'm going thru serious Rickdrawals! Many thanks to those who have taken the time to leave a review. They mean a lot to me. Enjoy...

"Ahh!" Erin screams in pain as Rick lurches forward to pull her up from the floor and away from the snake. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, it hurts!" She whimpers against his chest as he lifts her in his arms.

"Daryl!" Rick yells over Erin as the snake continues to slither in a small arc around the arrow impaling it to the floor by the cot.

Grabbing a knife from his belt, Daryl rushes toward the snake and slices the head clean off. He kicks it away and quickly moves to the side so Rick can reach the cot with Erin.

With his heart racing and a thick ball of fear in his throat, Rick lays her on the cot and puts his mouth to the two small puncture marks on her shin. He squeezes the skin surrounding the bite and sucks in a mixture of bitter toxin and the metallic taste of blood – her blood. Oh God.

Trying not to panic, knowing that he has to keep her calm, he focuses on the venom and sucks deeply to pull the poison from her body. Before it can slip down his throat, he turns his head and spits onto a pair of sweatpants lying on the floor next to Carl's bed.

Erin presses the heels of her hands into her eyes as a band of excruciating pain radiates up her shin."Oh, God."

"Sit up, honey! You've got to keep your heart above the bite," Rick says more forcefully than intended as he pulls her sock from her foot and then lays his mouth over the wound again.

She removes the fists from her eyes and pushes up onto her elbows as Daryl ties a bandana around her calf, a few inches above the wound.

"Not too tight, Daryl," Rick says after spitting into the sweatpants again. "We don't want to cut the circulation completely, we just want to slow it down."

When Rick sees her left leg pumping franticly as he draws out another ounce of fluid, he looks up to see her head thrown back and her chest heaving. Releasing one hand from her right leg, he clamps down on her left knee, holding it still against the mattress as he empties his mouth. "Don't move, Erin! You've got to keep still, sweetheart," he adds in a gentler tone. "Daryl, put some more pillows behind her." He takes another strong sip from the punctures. "Just relax, honey," he says in the most soothing voice he can muster with his heart beating out of his chest. "You need to stay calm."

"Easy for you to say," she replies, clawing at the sheets beneath her hands as Daryl guides her back to rest against a soft stack of pillows.

"I know, baby. Just hang in there. Deep breaths, in and out."

"You know they say sucking the venom doesn't help much. You'll just end up hurting yourself," she says tightly as he lowers his mouth again.

"Do you have any antivenin?" he asks irritably after spitting more poison, tasting less of the bitterness this time.

"No."

"Then we don't have a choice." He continues to squeeze, suck and spit. "Just stay calm. It won't spread far as long as you don't move."

"I'm trying," she says with a grimace before inhaling deeply through her nose. "Daryl, go get that bottle of whiskey from the RV," she adds after exhaling through her mouth.

"Is this the right time for a party?" the hunter asks from the foot of the bed, shifting restlessly on the balls of his feet.

"It's for me," Rick replies between sucks.

"To rinse his mouth," Erin adds shortly. "The alcohol will help kill the bacteria that this idiot is sucking in."

"Got it." Daryl replies quickly and moves toward the door.

"Get some soap and a couple of water bottles too!" Rick calls before his friend steps out."Hurry!"

"God, every time I imagined your mouth on my body, this is not what I had in mind." She hisses through the pain and fights the urge to twist her body as Rick holds her leg in a death grip.

"How's your throat? Are you breathing okay?" he anxiously asks after spitting a final time and moving to the head of the cot.

"Yeah, my throat isn't swelling up."

"Do we have Benadryl just in case?" he asks, tenderly brushing her hair from her forehead with trembling fingers.

"Yeah, it's in the kit, but I'm okay. It just really fucking hurts."

"I know, honey." He presses his lips to her forehead then turns to retrieve the beige tackle box which stores their medical supplies, tucked in the corner by her mattress. He lifts the large case as Dale appears in the doorway of the tent holding a dark bottle of whiskey and two clear bottles of spring water.

"Daryl said you needed this?" Dale says, breathing heavily as if he had run.

"Thanks." Rick grabs the dark bottle from the older man and moves past him to stand just outside the tent. He twists the cap off and fills his mouth, swishing the fiery liquid and then spitting it out in the grass.

"How is she doing?" Dale asks softly, out of Erin's earshot.

"She's gonna be fine," Rick replies, taking another swig.

"Really?" the older man asks, sounding a bit surprised.

Leveling Dale with a stern glare, Rick spits out the whiskey and gives the man a definitive "Yes." He just wishes he could believe that himself.

"Rick!"

Rick wipes his mouth with the back of a fist as he turns toward Daryl's voice. He sees a clear plastic bottle of hand soap in the man's outstretched palm and takes one more sip of the alcohol, swallowing it down before handing the whiskey to his friend and grabbing the soap dispenser. "Thanks," he says on a husky breath. Turning to Dale again, he collects the water bottles from the gray-haired man and steps back inside the tent with Daryl following close behind.

"Alright, Red, we're just gonna clean it up a bit." Rick gives her an encouraging smile despite the hammering of his heart. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he kneels next to the cot once more. "How are you doing, honey?"

"Never better," she replies sarcastically with her eyes squeezed tight against the pain as she tries not to move.

"That's my girl." He pumps a large dollop of soap into one palm and then cups his hands and turns toward the hunter. "Daryl, just pour a little water for me, would you." With the water added, he rubs his hands together thoroughly until he forms a thick, foamy lather and places a cold soapy hand against the red puncture marks, rubbing the suds into her heated skin.

"Don't you need some kind of heavy duty ointment?" Dale asks from the doorway. "Soap and water doesn't seem like much against snake venom."

"We just need to clean the site so it doesn't get infected. Nothing we can do about the venom inside now." Rick looks at Erin when her breath catches. "But as long as she keeps still, it won't travel too deep," he quickly adds as she opens her eyes to look at him."And we'll give you a shot of penicillin. We have some, right?"

"Yeah, there's amoxicillin in the kit."Erin closes her eyes again, causing two salty tears to slip down her cheeks.

"Will that help?" Daryl asks.

"Fangs carry a lot of bacteria which can cause an infection at the puncture site. The antibiotic will help fight that," Rick says, reaching for a folded tee shirt on top of Carl's duffel bag at the foot of the cot. Using the clean shirt as a towel, he dries his hands and grabs gauze, tape and a tube of Neosporin from the medical kit.

"You learn all this on the job?" Daryl asks as he quietly watches the sheriff dry Erin's shin gently with a strip of gauze.

"No, my grandfather," Rick replies, gliding a fingertip of antibiotic cream over the bite marks. "He loved to grill me on wilderness safety shit when we were out fishing. I guess it actually sunk in, thank God. When was your last tetanus shot?" he asks Erin as he places a large gauze pad over the wound.

"Only four years ago."

"That's good." Nodding his head, he presses a length of clear first aid tape tightly over the top edge of the bandage. When he finishes securing all four edges of the gauze, he reaches into the medical supplies for a syringe and the vial labeled amoxicillin. "Okay, we've got to do this real slow now. Keep your leg as still as possible and twist your hip just enough so I can get your pants down."

"Oh, if only I could enjoy this more," she groans with a smirk and a small sniffle. "Why does it have to hurt so damned much."

He chuckles softly at her flirtatious remark, happy that she is well enough to still tease him. "Nice and easy now," he says soothingly with a strong hand guiding her hip. Looking down at the syringe, a crease forms between his brows. "Shit. How do I do this, Red?"

Lying at an angle, she turns her head back toward him. "First you have to sterilize the top of the vial. Here, give me the syringe. I can do this part." She opens her palm out to him and he hands her the instrument.

"It's a good thing I'm not allergic to penicillin," she murmurs between concentrated breaths as he wipes the top of the medicine vial with an alcohol pad. "Okay, give me the vial." After inserting the needle and pulling the plunger back to the line indicating one hundred milliliters, her shaky hand taps the barrel to dispel any air bubbles as a calloused hand slides the waistband of her pants down to expose a good portion of her backside.

A coldness against her rump combats the painful heat crawling into her belly as Rick rubs another alcohol pad over a fleshy portion of her buttocks. She hands the syringe to him, the tip of the needle pointed up and glistening malevolently at her. "I guess this is payback for all the pain I caused with your stitches, huh? Just do it quick."

Looking at the tent wall, she feels jab of pain a moment before he replies, "I will."

"Ooh!" A burning sensation blossoms beneath her flesh as the medicine is absorbed into the tissue. She clenches her teeth until he finally pulls the needle out, and sighs in relief when she feels his thumb rubbing over the spot soothingly before he pulls her pants up again. "Okay, we're even."

"Hardly," he mutters, guiding her hip slowly to lie flat again.

He hands the syringe to Daryl and grabs a thick roll of ace bandage from the kit. "If you can't keep it still, I'll have to put a splint on your leg. But we'll try this for now," he says, weaving the bandage under the cot and over her legs a few times to prevent her from moving.

"I'll keep it still," she replies, her teeth chattering slightly as she meets his eyes.

He doesn't know if she's shaking from fear or shock or from the venom coursing through her body, but he clenches his own trembling hands and grabs the blanket from his mattress. He covers her completely, tucking the hem of the navy blue blanket underneath her chin as he settles in a crouch near her shoulder.

"I really thought a walker would get me before the cancer did. Who would've guessed it would be a stupid snake?" She laughs tightly, tears spilling down her cheeks as a firestorm burns up her leg. "God it hurts."

"Nothing's getting you yet, so stop talking like that," he says, stroking her hair tenderly and fighting the tears that want to form behind his own eyes.

"This is bad, Rick. Isn't it?" Her bright eyes shimmer with pain as she tries to take deep calming breaths.

"No, honey." He shakes his head and swallows hard. "Only a small percentage of bites are fatal."

Despite the confidence in his tone, she sees her own fears mirrored in the shadows of his eyes. "Rick?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he answers softly as his thumb continues to caress her forehead.

"My toes feel funny and I have a weird taste in my mouth."

"Shhh… Just keep still now." He kisses her temple, holding his lips to her skin for several moments as he fights hard to hold back his own tears.

"Stay with me."

"I'm not going anywhere." He leans his head against hers and they both close their eyes, blocking out the agony on the other's features. "I'm right here."