A/N I can't believe we are at the mid-season finale already! I just hope we have more time with Rick next week. Jeffrey Dean Morgan is fantastic (I've never loved and hated a character SO much!) but I need my Rick Fix badly! For now I'll just keep him busy with Erin at the beginning of the turn. Many thanks to my reviewers (Bluecrush – I love you, Over and out!) and a very warm thank you to Emma for helping Erin and I with our nursing skills. Please keep the reviews coming! :)
Erin opens her eyes and squints against the afternoon sunlight spilling into the tent through the mesh windows. She moves her head slightly to the right and winces as a sharp pain beats wickedly against her temples to override the dull ache at the back of her skull - the simple headache that she had woken up with this morning. She comes fully awake with a groan and a hiss as her body shivers with fevered chills and her heart beats ferociously inside her chest.
"Hey."
Rick's deep voice is comforting, and very close. She opens her eyes further to see him sitting on an overturned crate right next to the cot, an expression of deep concern darkening his handsome face. His voice drifts further away and she fights to keep her eyes open, to keep him in her sights. She tries to focus on the pretty blue surrounding the large black pupils of his gaze, but keeps getting distracted by the fullness of his bottom lip as he mouths her name from an unfathomable distance.
She forces her eyes open after her heavy lids had apparently fallen closed again. His voice is closer now, tinged with authority and pulling her toward him.
"Erin. Look at me, sweetheart."
She assembles her disjointed thoughts and concentrates on the sound of his voice and the comforting pressure of his palm against her forehead. She looks into his smiling blue eyes. "How long have I been sleeping?"
"A few hours, it's almost three o'clock now. How are you feeling?"
"Glenn needs to go on a run," she says tiredly. "Before it gets too dark."
"Why? What do we need?" he asks, sounding immediately alert and quietly alarmed.
"More antibiotic." She winces again at an ache in her lower back. "I'm pretty sure I'm getting septic."
"Shit. That's an infection in the blood, right?" His face falls and she feels bad for upsetting him.
"Yeah. I think the infection is spreading and it's starting to overwhelm my immune system."
"So we'll give you another shot of penicillin," he says quickly as he turns toward the medical kit. "I know there's more-,"
"It won't help," she cuts him off, trying to stay focused long enough to explain what she needs. "I need a different antibiotic. Clindamycin."
"And we don't have that?"
"No. Only thing I found before was the amoxicillin."
"Daryl!" Rick calls loudly and the hunter steps into the tent a moment later. He must have been lurking just outside, staying close for Rick or herself she didn't know. Probably for both of them.
"Yeah?" Daryl asks quickly, eager to help.
"Go get Glenn. I need him to go on a run," the sheriff says urgently as he moves to grab a bottle of water from the foot of the cot.
"Got it." Daryl disappears and a few muffled shouts are heard outside the tent as he searches for Glenn's whereabouts.
Erin watches Rick unscrew the cap from the water bottle as he takes his seat on the crate again. "Here, you need fluids, right? To flush your system?"
She opens her mouth as he gently tilts her head toward the bottle, "An IV drip would be better," she says after letting a couple of ounces of water slip down her throat.
"Keep going. A little more, honey." He angles the bottle toward her mouth again.
"Too much and I'm just going to throw it up," she tells him weakly as her stomach churns, unsettled from the infection coursing through her bloodstream.
"Just one more sip then. We'll go slow but we've got to get this in you."
"There's a bottle of Gatorade in Carl's backpack. It'll be better for me," she adds, blinking her heavy eyelids to stay awake.
He finds the blue drink and unscrews the cap before holding it up to her lips. She swallows a mouthful and looks up as Glenn appears in the doorway, breathing heavily.
"Rick, where do you need me to go?"
"A pharmacy or doctor's office. Someplace you can find an antibiotic called…" Rick looks at Erin for the name of the drug.
"Clindamycin. Or even cephalexin." She spells them out for Glenn as Rick guides her head to fall back onto the pillow.
"I've already checked every drug store and doctor's office around here," Glenn informs them. "There's not much left out there, Rick."
"Fuck. There's got to be a place that people didn't clean out."
"Me and T-Dog could go house to house and check medicine cabinets but it'll take a while."
I don't have a while. Erin closes her eyes as her mind takes one step back into the swampy murkiness of lethargy again. She forces her brain to shake the muddy waters like a wet Labrador retriever and focuses on Rick; the tilt of his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, the thick waves of his dark hair - mussed and unruly from running his anxious fingers through it all morning, and the angle of his brows as he tries to formulate a plan.
She can practically see the gears turning inside his head as he compels himself to think… to decipher… to solve the puzzle that is put in front of him and come out the victor. When he looks up suddenly, she smiles softly as she imagines the proverbial lightbulb shining brightly behind his eyes.
"That's it!" Rick looks at Glenn with newfound hope.
"What?"
"My grandfather."
"I don't think he can help us now," Glenn responds with a dry look.
"What about him, Rick?" Erin asks weakly, trusting in his instincts and curious to see what solution his mind had come up with.
"My grandfather had a ton of medications in his cabinet before he died."
"Again, can't help us now," Glenn echoes with a frown.
"He can't, but others can," Rick replies quickly. "There's gotta be an old folk's home around here somewhere. I bet they would have a good supply of all kinds of drugs."
"And most people won't think of it so it's probably not looted yet," Glenn adds with a nod of his head.
"Daryl! Go get the phonebook!"
Despite the coolness in the tent with the setting sun, Rick feels his white tee shirt sticking to his lower back as the heat from Erin's fevered body seems to soak directly into every one of his pores. He lies on top of the blanket, curled into her left side as she fades in and out of consciousness beneath the covers. Incoherent murmurs and lethargic pleas mix with whimpers of pain and fearful despair that break his heart and make him feel utterly helpless.
When she mutters something about being cold, he squeezes her closer against him, comforting her as well as himself with his chin on her shoulder, forehead against her cheek, arm slung across her midsection and his left leg draped across her thighs, keeping her immobile and trying to get his own heat into her trembling body.
It's been several hours since Glenn and T-Dog left and every minute seems to be going far too quickly and, at the same time, way too slow. When Rick had checked her wound about a half hour ago he didn't like the way her bruised shin had become deeply red and badly swollen. He'd changed the dressing and removed the ace bandage after she had promised to keep still on her own.
Now, completely exhausted from the last few sleepless nights and the terrifying events of the day, with the sound of her soft erratic breathing filling his ears and her intense body heat enveloping him like a shroud of molten lava, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep…
Shades of caramel and copper marbled granite form a wide shelf around the large tub nestled into one corner of the spacious bathroom. An array of candles of various shapes and sizes spread soft flickering light across the taupe colored walls, gently caressing the smooth texture of the paint. A wide window sits high on the wall overlooking the tub, slightly opened to the night air and its cricket song. A soft breeze stirs the delicate fronds of the healthy fern sitting atop a decorative shelf beside the pedestal sink. Smooth brass rhythms of Herb Alpert drift in from the CD player in the bedroom to accompany the melodious crickets.
Rick inhales a lungful of the humid air and breathes in the light scent of waxy vanilla sweetness mixed with the flowery perfume of the lavender bubble bath. He treasures the blissfully relaxed smile spreading across Erin's beautiful face as he holds her foot to his chest and massages the smooth arch just above the fragrant bubbles. "I've never been one for baths, but I have to say - I could really get used to this," he says as he watches her sink deeper into the steamy water across from him with a husky moan.
"Mmm…, this is the best part of my townhouse. And now it's even better having you here with me."
"This may be even better than our lake," he says, pressing his thumb into the center of her instep and rubbing a path to her heel.
"No, I love the lake. It's so pretty and peaceful there. And I know how important it is to you."
"Yeah, but this is really cozy with the candles and everything. Too bad we can't stay here."
"Who says we can't? Just me and you, no more worrying about strange viruses and being attacked by people who have no business walking around with a dead heart."
"You know we can't stay here, honey. This isn't real."
"Mmm…, feels pretty real to me." She rubs her free foot against his hip and gives him a look that promises all kinds of wonderful.
He drops a hand to catch her ankle when her heel slides over his thigh toward his groin. "Yes, it does feel real. Too real and so damned good, but you know we have to get back to the others. Carl and Kelly are waiting for us."
"I know, but I don't want to go back. So much pain and misery back there. I like it here. My leg doesn't hurt here." She wiggles her toes against his chest where he now has both feet held captive. "Please stay with me," she says sleepily as she sinks further into the water, her chin just above the fragrant bubbles. "I'm so tired, Rick."
He watches her eyes flutter closed and in the depths of his soul he feels her drifting into that evasive space between rainbows and reality. He tugs gently on her ankles to pull her back to their conversation, back to him. "You can't go to sleep here, sweetheart." When she doesn't stir, his back straightens with concern as a shard of fear trickles into his spine. "Come on, baby, wake up. It's time to go back now, Red." When she still doesn't respond, the shard thickens into a steel rod of terror that pierces his heart. Fuck. "Erin!"
"Erin!" Rick's scream hangs on the dry air inside the tent as the humidity of the cozy bath fades away. As the evening sun sits just above the treetops, shadows linger in the corners beyond the narrow bunk, ready to slink their way inward with the coming of night.
He bolts upright on the cot and pulls the blanket from the still form of the woman lying next to him. Putting two fingers to her neck and his ear to her chest, he ignores his own pounding heart as he tries, and fails, to detect even a faint thump from hers. "No, no, no," he utters with his heart in his throat as he quickly moves her to the hard floor of the tent, praying that he's not too late.
Tilting her head back and pinching her nostrils closed, he covers her mouth with his and blows two deep breaths into her prone form. He watches her chest rise and then return to an unhealthy stillness. "Come on, baby. Don't do this to me." With trembling fingers he pulls her tee shirt up to her collarbone, places his hands on her sternum and begins compressions. "Come on, Red. You can't leave me like this." A trickle of sweat threatens to drip into his eye and he shakes his head quickly, keeping his elbows locked and hands clasped as he presses hard against her overheated skin and the thin band of soft material in the center of her bra. "Breathe, baby."
After thirty compressions and no response, he breathes into her mouth again. Her cheeks puff and her chest rises with the precious air that he gives her, but her traumatized body remains still and lifeless. Oh God.
"Dammit, Erin, you can't leave me here!" Positioning his hands against her chest again, he rocks a swift steady tempo to another thirty count, willing her heart to beat beneath the driving force of his muscles and the desperate yearning of his own thrashing heart. "Come on, baby. Come back to me."
Bending over Erin once more, he seals his lips to hers and blows with every vital ounce of his being, refusing to let her ignore the breath he so desperately wants to give her. He inhales deeply after the first breath and then covers her mouth again. As he begins to force more oxygen into her motionless body, he is startled at the sudden gasp against his lips and the fingers clawing frantically at his arm.
Erin's choking cough fills the tent as she gulps for a mouthful of fresh air. Rick quickly turns her onto her side, holding back the long tendrils of auburn hair that had escaped the ponytail as her stomach tries to empty itself in a reflux reaction.
A physically exhausted emotional wreck, he doubles over and rests his forehead against her shoulder. "Thank you. Oh, God, thank you." He struggles to catch his own breath while her body continues to spasm with dry heaves. "Oh, baby… please don't ever do that to me again."
When her coughing subsides, he presses a kiss to her nape and collapses onto his back, completely drained inside and out. He closes his eyes and waits for his hammering pulse to settle. When he feels the warmth of Erin's shoulder pressing against his, he turns his head to see her lying on her back next to him.
"Thank you." She gives him a weak, tearful smile. "But what I would give to be back in that tub."
"Next time," he begins and then pauses to swallow and exhale deeply. "Next time we're going back to the lake… you weren't so tempted to stay there."
She gives him an apologetic frown filled with a rueful yearning. "Agreed," she whispers softly.
He watches another tear fall from her eye, carrying with it the hope of ever going back to that candlelit tub and days gone bye. His hand finds hers between them and he gives it a good squeeze, thanking her for choosing to stay with him in the current, dreadful present. The corner of her mouth lifts in response, giving him something more precious than the air filling their lungs.
A noise in the doorway catches his attention and he lifts his head to find Daryl shifting on his feet and looking a bit stricken.
"Uh, everything alright in here?" Daryl asks tremulously around the fingernail between his teeth.
"Oh yeah," Rick answers with a shaky thumbs up as he lets his head fall back to the unforgiving floor. "Never better," he says in a cheerfully dry tone. "No sign of Glenn yet?" He lifts his head again to read Daryl's expression.
"No. But he'll be back." The hunter nods his head once as if that one unwavering statement combined with that singular affirmative motion was powerful enough to triumph over anyone or anything that dared to disagree. "Just hang in there, Erin," he says quickly to the ground before turning and stepping back out.
Twenty minutes later, Rick is lying next to her on the cot once more when Glenn and T-Dog walk in with a plastic bag full of prescription pill bottles. She'd been slipping in and out again between confused semi-wakefulness, alert consciousness with an extremely sore chest, and a very deep sleep - the latter scaring Rick every time and forcing him to watch the rise of her chest very closely.
When he sees Glenn tip the plastic grocery bag and empty its contents onto the middle of his mattress, he has to keep himself from scrambling over Erin and lunging at the pile to grab the much needed medication. "Did you find the right one? The clindamycin?" he asks, shifting to rise slowly from the cot so as not to cause Erin more pain.
"Yeah, it's in here. And we just grabbed everything we saw in case she needed something else too," Glenn says, breathing heavily as he sifts through the bottles to find the right one. "Here!" Glenn turns, handing the bottle to Rick.
Rick twists the blessedly full bottle to read the name of the drug inside that was prescribed to one Sally O'Leary. He turns back to Erin and crouches in front of the cot. "We've got it, sweetheart. You're gonna be fine now. Look at me, honey." He brushes the bangs off of her forehead and holds the bottle up for her to see. "These are one hundred fifty milligrams. How many of these do you need to take?"
Erin meets his eyes for a moment and then glances at the bottle. "Sec hud migs," she slurs before closing her eyes again.
"What? Say that again." With his palm across her forehead, he shakes her head gently. "Talk to me, Erin."
"What if she's too delirious to give you the right amount? What if we give her too much?" Glenn asks.
"She'll come around," Rick replies with a shaky breath. "Come on, Red. Look at me dammit!"
She opens her eyes and peers directly at him, a slightly affronted look on her face. "Rick?"
"There we go." He grins at her and is rewarded with a tired but bright smile and clear eyes gazing back at him. "You're still here, aren't you?" he says softly as his grin widens into a smile that creases the corners of his dancing blue eyes.
"I'm here."
"Tell Glenn how many pills you need to take," he says a bit smugly as he strokes her hair tenderly.
"Four hundred and fifty to six hundred milligrams," she says softly and then pauses to take a breath. "Every six hours. Give me six hundred to start."
"Are you sure, Erin?" Glenn questions in a voice filled with doubt. "That really sounds like a lot."
"It is." She looks straight at the Asian man to dispel any uncertainty. "Considering I was basically dead… a little while ago…," she says weakly but clearly, "I'll take the six."