Most Wanted

by SquishyCool

Explicit AU: After the godly veil on the Greene Family drug operation is lifted, 18-year-old Beth commits a heinous crime to protect her family. Now she's the only one left free and is making a run for it to New York City. When she meets single dad Daryl Dixon, who just needs a little help covering the rent, she quickly realizes that some secrets can't be kept forever.

58. Detective Grimes III

While Beth is taking a morning fishing trip in the Catskill Mountains, back in Atlanta, Rick Grimes is finally waking up...

---

Detective Grimes III

The sensation of waking from a month-long coma was unlike anything Rick Grimes had ever experienced in his life. Well, it may have been similar to the sensation of being bashed over the head and put into a very deep sleep, but he couldn't remember. He couldn't even remember what had happened, what had put him to sleep, who had approached him. One moment, he was looking down at Shane's body, lying motionless on the floor beside him. And then everything went black. It felt like the very next moment, he was opening his eyes again, crying out with the yell that had been caught in his throat before he'd lost consciousness.

"Shane!"

Everything was bright and white and blurry, and the smell of bleach and piss filled his nostrils. The sudden light stung his eyes, and his throat felt like it would crack apart if he tried to utter another word. There was movement around him, and suddenly there were a dozen different voices surrounding him, filling his ears, making his head throb. He immediately fell back into the bed again and groaned in pain, head hitting the pillow and eyes squeezing shut.

"Oh my god, he's – check his vitals, did you – "

"Did he say something? Where's the doctor?!"

"Get him over here! Dr. Edwards! Page him again!"

"Tell Esther to call his wife, we have to – "

"Is that reporter lady still outside? We need more nurses in here in case – "

"Sir, Mr. Grimes, sir – can you open your eyes for me again? Are you awake?"

"Oh my god, please don't tell me that was another reaction, I saw him open his eyes this time!"

"Where the fuck is Dr. Edwards?! Can you page him again?!"

"He's coming! What did I tell y'all about workin' Saturday mornings? I knew somethin' big would happen today!"

"Lauren, shut the hell up an' page him again. You ain't even s'posed ta be in here."

It was all too much. Rick was having a sensory overload. He felt disoriented, dizzy, his head throbbed painfully and all his limbs felt ten times heavier than normal.

Where am I? He thought, struggling to open his eyes and look around at the nurses who were poking and prodding him, urging him to speak, clucking away and flittering about like a group of hens. But his throat was so sore and so dry, he wasn't sure he could form any actual words. Where's Lori? Where's Shane? Was that a dream? Is this some kind of dream?

He finally managed to lift his heavy eyelids, even though his eyes stung and watered against the light. He looked around and met the eyes of each of the six nurses surrounding him as they took his blood pressure, checked his pulse, stuck needles into the wires and tubes in his arms and scribbled things down on their little charts. A couple of the nurses kept looking toward the door, repeatedly calling for a doctor that Rick had never heard of.

He was lying in a hospital bed, in a sterile, white room that was just big enough for his bed, the machines that surrounded it, a door to a small bathroom, and a couple chairs and a sink. The top half of his bed was slightly raised, and he looked around in confusion when he realized it was slowly rising him into a sitting position. Then he spotted one of the nurses pressing the button that controlled the bed, and he tried to relax into his new position. He felt… creaky. Like his insides were coated in a layer of dust. As his vision cleared, he noticed the bright orange Halloween decorations around the room – little paper pumpkins, bats, and ghosts pinned to the white walls. For a brief second, he thought about how it was the weirdest thing because Halloween was still a couple months off.

He tried to raise his head from the pillow to look around and search for Shane or Lori, but his skull felt like it weighed fifty pounds, and the nurses immediately scolded him and urged him to lie back and relax. But that was impossible. Every muscle in his body was suddenly itching to move. If he'd had the strength, he would've ripped out all the tubes and wires in his body and jumped out of that bed. But he could barely seem to lift one hand. And as he looked down and began to examine himself, recognize himself, he realized that there were so many tubes, so many wires.

Where the fuck is Shane? He thought.

He opened his mouth and the nurses urged him to speak. He struggled against a mouth full of cotton and a dry throat, and his voice came out hoarse and barely audible, his lips cracking painfully as he used them for the first time in weeks. "W-wa… water."

A couple of the nurses scrambled over to a nearby sink to grab a small plastic cup and fill it with water while one of the others rushed them along, admonishing the other nurses for not thinking to grab him some "damn water." A red-haired nurse standing near the door was once again asking about "Dr. Edwards."

Everything around him was too much to process. Rick had so many questions, and his mind was spinning, struggling to decipher what had been a dream and what had been reality. It felt like he'd been asleep for only a second, but that was obviously impossible. While he was swallowed up by that darkness, deep inside his head, it had felt like an eternity. And suddenly, it didn't anymore. What had happened? Had he imagined everything? Had he been shot? How long had he been in the hospital? A couple hours? A couple days?

And where the fuck was Shane? Was he okay? Where the fuck was Lori, for that matter?

One of the nurses leaned in close to Rick and carefully held the small paper cup to his lips, and though he drank eagerly, she didn't allow him to swallow it too quickly. Nevertheless, it was the most relief he'd felt since being awake. The water washed down his throat and he was so thirsty that he nearly forgot to breathe. The cannulas in his nose didn't allow him to, though. As the nurse leaned closer to him, he spotted the monogram on the chest of her scrubs: Grady Memorial Hospital.

He let out a sigh of relief as the nurse pulled the empty cup away and he looked around at the others, licking his lips. Then he rested his eyelids briefly and asked, "Wh-where… where's Shane?"

Rick could still see him, lying on that floor. Completely motionless. Had that been a dream?

When he opened his eyes fully and looked around again, waiting for an answer, he saw the nurses exchanging worried glances. His eyes were growing used to the bright light, and he gazed around at them quizzically. A few of them were whispering to each other so quietly that he couldn't hear what they were saying. He furrowed his brow, about to repeat himself, but then someone else entered the room.

The nurses immediately turned around and looked toward the door, and Rick's eyes followed to see a doctor striding in. He appeared to be chewing a bite of food, a napkin still tucked into the collar of his shirt as a bib, and a mustard stain on the front of his white lab coat. He appeared no older than forty, and was less than six feet tall with pale white skin and light brown hair, cut short and receding in the front. He also had a neatly trimmed beard to match, and wore square-framed glasses over green eyes.

He hadn't even glanced in Rick's direction yet, appearing frustrated as he glared at the nurses and muttered, "Better not be another goddamned hemorrhage, I'm right in the middle of my breakfast – "

"Edwards, look at him," one of the nurses hissed, and the doctor finally looked over to meet Rick's quizzical gaze. His face fell and he immediately pushed his way through the nurses to Rick's bedside, waving his hand and shooing them all away.

Most of them seemed to know they weren't supposed to be there and obediently scurried from the room, while one stayed behind and pointed out the napkin that was still tucked into the front of the doctor's shirt. He muttered, "shit" and yanked it out to stuff into his pocket before shooing the last two nurses away. The room emptied except for the doctor, and Rick gazed up at him with a bewildered expression. The doctor had a silver name badge pinned to the front of his lab coat that read: Dr. Steven Edwards – Neurology.

When he spoke, it was very slowly, and he enunciated his words and raised his voice, as if it had been Rick's hearing that was damaged. "Mr. Grimes, d'you – do you remember who you are?" Dr. Edwards stared down intently into Rick's eyes as he leaned over the bed.

Rick furrowed his brow, growing more confused. "What – 'course I do. Where's Shane?"

The doctor's face fell and he stood up straight. He hesitated, then responded in a normal tone, "Your partner? Shane Walsh?" Rick could see his tongue moving behind his cheek, digging food from his teeth.

Rick nodded, swallowing past his dry, sore throat.

Dr. Edwards sighed and raised his eyebrows. He stepped away and avoided Rick's gaze, picking up the chart that one of the nurses had left on a nearby table. Rick's heart beat a little faster as he anxiously awaited an answer, but the doctor was looking down at the chart in his hands, flipping through the pages and remaining silent.

"Where is Shane?" Rick repeated, the strength in his voice slowly returning as he grew impatient. Was this some kind of game to this guy? Why wouldn't anyone tell him where his partner was? Or his wife? "And-and Lori. My wife – where is she? My son, Carl…"

Dr. Edwards sighed again and set the chart back down, then turned to face Rick, leaning back against the edge of the table. He gazed intently into Rick's eyes, then said, "Detective Walsh was DOA. Your wife is on her way with your son. We just called her, so she'll get here as soon as she can."

Rick felt his lungs tightening. He struggled to take in a deep, calming breath. Had he heard the doctor correctly? Shane, DOA? It wasn't possible. His voice sounded foreign as it escaped his throat. "What – wait. No, he – DOA?"

Dr. Edwards looked down toward the floor and cleared his throat. "It means dead on arrival, I didn't – "

"I know what DOA means, for Christ's sake, I'm a cop," Rick said, the anger quickly building in his chest. "But how? What happened? Who killed him?"

Dr. Edwards blinked rapidly and made eye contact with Rick for about half a second before quickly glancing away again, visibly nervous. "I really am not – I shouldn't be the one talking to you about this. It was my job t'make sure you woke up and to find out how much you remembered. You should – listen, your wife can answer all your questions. She'll be here soon. Until then, I have t'check you out and make some notes."

The doctor picked up his chart again and approached Rick's bedside, reaching out to check the monitors around him and scribble notes onto the paper. Rick watched him, angry and baffled, brimming with so many questions that he didn't know which one to demand answers for first.

"Just tell me what happened," he hissed, glaring at Dr. Edwards, who flinched at the tone in Rick's voice but continued his work with tightly pursed lips.

"Where's Lerner? M-my boss, Dawn Lerner – does she know?" Rick asked, struggling to bite back his fury at being left in the dark.

The doctor stopped what he was doing. Froze. Then he met Rick's eyes, brows furrowed. Rick could see him swallowing hard right before he said, "Mr. Grimes, everyone knows. You've been in a coma for thirty-four days."

Rick's breath caught in his throat. His blood turned cold in his veins, and it felt as if the entire world had dropped out from beneath his feet.

A coma? He thought, mouth slowly dropping open as he gaped at Dr. Edwards in disbelief. He struggled to process it, to determine if this was all real or just another dream. I was asleep for that long? Shane… Shane's dead? They already had his funeral and I missed it… Who killed him? Hershel Greene? Did they get him? Was I supposed to die, too? Why the fuck isn't Lori here, waiting for me to wake up?

Rick's eyes drifted downward, beginning to stare at his own hands and examine himself, wondering how he hadn't noticed how different he looked. He'd lost an entire month of his life. How could he ever get that time back? How much had happened since he'd been unconscious?

Dr. Edwards cleared his throat, finishing his last check-up and taking a step back, away from the bedside. He still sounded a bit nervous, but he was well-rehearsed in covering it up. "We have a lotta tests to run now that you're awake – I'll give you a chance t'get accommodated first and um, talk to your wife. See your son. You have a long road ahead of you… Not everybody wakes up from blunt force trauma like that."

Rick looked over at the doctor and blinked, lips parted like he was going to ask something else. Before he could find the words, Dr. Edwards was nodding and briskly heading for the door. "Alright, I'll be back later. My breakfast is already cold. Call a nurse if you need anything."

And just like that, he was gone. Rick looked around, mind racing and heart pounding inside his chest. The beeping monitors around him had already become nothing more than background noise, though sounds of voices from the hallway outside were drifting in and reaching his ears. And as the door to his room slowly fell shut behind Dr. Edwards, Rick caught a glimpse of the hallway, and the large reception desk that sat almost directly in front of his room. A black woman in a bright fuchsia dress was standing in front of the desk, gazing back over her shoulder and staring directly at him. Like she knew him.

Before he could figure out if he recognized her, the door clicked shut, and he was alone with his thoughts and the beeping machines.

---

"We're not havin' this goddamn argument again – Carl's heard us fightin' more than enough," Rick said, his voice hushed and frustrated. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

"When?" Lori hissed, hazel eyes ablaze. "While you're sleeping from spendin' all night busting a drug ring, or while you're drowning in the interrogations an' paperwork afterwards? This isn't worth it anymore – "

"And what is?!" Rick snapped, struggling to keep from raising his voice. He and Lori were inches away from each other now, both of them heated. "Huh? When I ain't got enough money ta make the car payment, or when yer takin' babysittin' jobs ta keep the house from gettin' foreclosed? Just wait, alright? You'll see, after this bust, once we got those damn Greene's in handcuffs – "

"Fame an' glory don't get you a pay raise, Rick!" Lori hissed, eyes widening as she looked up at him like he was the dumbest man she'd ever met. "Havin' people think you're a great leader – that don't mean shit ta me an' Carl. And I'm not gonna sit around while you go out an' – "

"And what?!" Rick interrupted her, leaning in closer until he could smell her shampoo, rage filling his chest. "Try t'do what's right? Try ta put some goddamn justice into this world?"

"No," Lori said flatly. "While you go out an' risk your life. While you go out, every single day, and take the most dangerous route, volunteer for the most dangerous jobs. Like you want to make me a widow! This isn't the goddamn sheriff's department, Rick – this is the big leagues, this is life-threatening shit."

Rick's lip curled and he leaned away from her again, taking half a step back. She was starting to sound like Shane and it pissed him off more. He clenched his right hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. "You agreed ta this. There was a time when you supported my dream of becomin' a detective. You knew what it entailed. You wanted me t'make a difference, too."

Lori rolled her eyes, which sparked another small flame of anger inside his chest. "That was a different time, Rick. Things aren't – they're not so simple anymore. You're not made out for that kinda work and those kinda people, you got no idea what you're goin' up against when – "

It took everything Rick had to keep from raising his voice, to restrain himself from getting in Lori's face and screaming at her. His voice came out low and threatening as he told her, "If yer so fuckin' unhappy, then leave. You don't think I can do it? You ain't gotta stay an' watch."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at him. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake hard, ask her who the fuck she was and what she'd done with his wife. This wasn't the woman he married. She hadn't been the woman he married for some time now. And every day that she said some stupid shit like this, talked down to him like he was the biggest idiot she'd ever laid eyes on, the distance between them grew larger. It was constantly growing now, and poor Carl was stuck in the middle. If it weren't for his son, Rick wasn't even so sure that he'd still be here with this woman. She spoke like someone he didn't know – like someone he didn't like. They no longer held the same values.

Had they ever? Or had he been blinded by love for the past eleven years?

They didn't speak again until Rick left for the day. He hugged Carl by the front door, squatting down on one knee to be eye level with the ten-year-old, brunette boy.

"Are you doin' that big job tonight, Dad?" Carl asked.

Rick nodded. "Sure am, bud. I'll be home in time ta go t'church with you an' your mom, though."

Carl smiled and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. Rick melted into his son's hug, wrapping his own arms around the small boy's body and holding him close for a moment.

"Be careful, Dad," Carl whispered next to his ear. "Mom will be really mad if you get hurt. And I need you."

Rick fought back a tear and chuckled softly as they pulled apart. He ruffled his son's hair and gave him another smile. "I know, son. I need you, too. Love you."

Carl smiled. "Love you, too."

Rick stood back up and looked over toward Lori, who was standing near the hallway at the opposite side of the living room. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest as she watched her husband and son say goodbye to each other. Rick felt like she was staring at him with absolute contempt, and it only made him eager to leave the house quickly.

"Alright, well – see you in the mornin'," he lifted his hand in a brief wave toward Lori's direction as he turned and placed his hand on the knob of the front door.

Her voice made him freeze, sending ice through his veins and a painful stab of guilt into his stomach. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even care about us at all."

He hesitated, hand still on the doorknob. A retaliation was building in his throat, and he fought back the urge to spin around and look Lori in her eyes, spit back the venom that she loved to throw his way. But he caught Carl watching him from the corner of his eye, and the look of confusion and sadness on his son's face made Rick's heart drop down to his feet. How could she have said such a thing in front of their child?

Instead of responding, Rick pretended not to hear her. Even though she knew he had. He opened the front door and left, resisting the urge to slam it behind him.

Arguing with her had made him late enough already.

---

Rick spent several minutes stretching out his fingers and hands. Every bone in his body felt like a bike chain that had been left out in the rain for a month, rusted and rickety. And then he spent several more minutes searching his bed for the button to call a nurse. When he found it, he struggled to grasp it and accurately press the button. He grew a bit frightened at how much it exhausted him to do something as simple as lift his arm. And his head was still throbbing. Probably more so now, since his pulse was pounding harder and he was still trying to process everything he'd been told – and everything he hadn't been told.

That doctor sure is a piece a work, he thought, pressing the button a couple more times until he had managed to make the little light come on. The hell is that guy doin' in medicine? Why's he so skittish? Definitely ain't got the best bedside manner I ever seen… Shit, did I have surgery? Sure as hell hope he wasn't the one that operated on me…

He scratched at the scruff on his face, at least a week unshaven and itchy. Then he reached up and gingerly touched the bandages wrapped around his head. The right half of his head was tender to the touch, and that was the part that throbbed the worst beneath his skull. What the hell had those Greene's done to him? Why couldn't he remember anything after seeing Shane lying on the ground? He hadn't even seen him get shot, let alone seen a gun being pulled out. All Rick could remember was the sound of the weapon discharging, and he'd assumed it was Shane's – but it wasn't… Whose was it, then?

And what had happened to his head? Dr. Edwards had said nothing more than "blunt force trauma." That could be a number of things, though it certainly explained his headache… what had the Greene's used when they tried to cave his head in? Or had something else happened? He had so many damn questions and so few answers.

Fuck, he thought. This is gonna be a bitch to rehabilitate from. How long are they gonna keep me here? I gotta get back to work – as soon as I find out what happened. I gotta get back into this case. Those Greene's will fry for what they did ta Shane, an' I gotta do everything in my power ta make sure of it… Where the fuck is Lori?

The door to his room opened and a nurse entered. Rick quickly recognized her from when he'd first woken up, remembering her curly, red hair. She appeared to be older and carried herself with an air of authority. He could tell she was in charge of some of the other nurses. But she seemed nice enough, and she smiled, looking him up and down and glancing at the monitors and screens around his bed.

"Everythin' okay, Mr. Grimes?" She asked, striding over and casually checking his IV bag. She was close enough now that Rick could read her name badge: Phyllis.

"My – my wife. Is she coming?" Rick asked, voice still hoarse.

Phyllis looked at him and her gaze softened. He couldn't figure out why she looked so sympathetic toward him. But she smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Yes, honey, she's on her way. Want a li'l more water while ya wait?"

He nodded and watched her walk to the sink for a paper cup of water. She brought it back to him and moved in to help him drink, like the other nurse had done before, but he stopped her and insisted on doing it himself. She allowed him, though she was hesitant, and watched him carefully with her hands out and ready to grab the cup if he dropped it. But he didn't, and once he'd swallowed every last, delicious drop of cold water, he felt pretty damn proud of himself.

Phyllis smiled encouragingly, raising her eyebrows like she was slightly surprised, and took the empty cup from him, tossing it in the trash.

"Has – uh, has anybody else come by?" He asked, watching her walk to the window and pull the curtains open to let in some sunlight. "Ta check on me?"

"Well, you've only been here for a couple weeks, so I can't speak for when you were at Harrison," she replied, and Rick immediately understood that she was talking about Harrison Memorial Hospital. He wondered why they'd moved him to Slabtown, of all places. He'd only ever been to this hospital once or twice – as a visitor. It wasn't even close to where he and Lori lived.

She leaned against the small table next to the window, crossing her arms over her chest thoughtfully, and looked at him as she continued, "But your brother came by a couple days after you got here – he was awfully upset. Left ya some flowers. 'Course, they're long dead by now…" Rick glanced around and realized, for the first time, that there weren't any flowers or cards in sight. Not even a deflated balloon or a shitty, stuffed animal. "Yer wife an' son stopped by a couple times. Well, I dunno about yer time at Harrison, but they've only stopped by twice since ya came to Grady."

Twice in two weeks? That's it? Rick thought, furrowing his brow at this information.

As if she'd read his mind, Phyllis commented, "Yeah, ya know, I dunno where they got that bit in the news – when they said she was by yer side 'every single day.' They weren't even in here, how would they know? Anyway, then I think your sister-in-law came by. She brought some more flowers jus' a couple days after yer brother… An' another lady. I think she said she was your former boss…?"

Rick gave the nurse a quizzical expression as he thought, Former boss? Does she mean my current boss, Lerner?

"Lerner?" He asked, and Phyllis shrugged. He paused, then asked, "Dark-haired lady, real short an' angry?"

The nurse smiled and snapped her fingers. "Yeah! That's the one. She's been stoppin' by nearly every day. An' callin' when she can't come in. She was awfully worried you wouldn't wake up."

Rick chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully, gazing back at Phyllis but not really looking at her. He was still a bit upset at the news that Lori had barely bothered to visit him, or bring Carl.

Apparently, the nurse could recognize this, because she uncrossed her arms and stepped away from the table, patting Rick's foot through the blanket as she paused at the end of his bed. "Don't worry, Mr. Grimes – sometimes spouses don't come in 'cause it's just too painful ta see the person they love the most in that condition. An' they don't bring the kids in for the same reason… I'm sure you didn't want yer son seein' you that way. Right?"

Rick shrugged, a pain shooting up his neck when he did so. He winced but quickly brushed it off, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah – yeah, yer prob'ly right… Thank you."

She gave him another reassuring smile, then told him to call her again if he needed anything else. He watched her leave the room, and the door slowly shut behind her. The woman in the fuchsia dress was no longer standing outside, though he wasn't sure why he thought she'd been looking at him. He didn't recognize her anyway.

He relaxed back into the bed and closed his eyes, wishing he'd thought to ask for some pain medication. But he was afraid it would make him drowsy, and the last thing he wanted right now was to fall back asleep and lose any more time. Even though his eyes were closed, the throbbing in his head kept him plenty awake. And all he could worry about right now was Lori and Carl… and Shane. And Lerner. And what became of the Greene's. And where was his cell phone, anyway? Were they keeping it somewhere? Maybe he could ask the nurses…

The door to his room flung open, startling him from his daydreaming state, and he looked over to see Lori rushing inside with Carl close behind her. She was wearing a loosely flowing, floral print dress, her long, black hair pulled up in a high ponytail. Carl was wearing a bright blue T-shirt from Vacation Bible Camp and jeans, his hair a mess as usual. All the heaviness in Rick's chest immediately lifted, and he grinned at the sight of his wife and son. Had Carl gotten bigger already, or was Rick imagining things? Carl slipped in front of his mom and rushed towards the bed, an excited grin on his face.

"Dad!" The small boy cried out happily, immediately throwing his arms around Rick's neck when he reached the bedside. "I thought – I was so scared! I thought you wouldn't ever wake up!"

Rick wrapped his arms around his son, holding him tightly, tears pooling in his eyes. He breathed in the familiar scent of their home, of Carl's bubblegum shampoo. His head throbbed harder from the young boy's voice right beside his ear, but he didn't care. He choked out, "It's okay, Carl – I'm okay. I jus' – I had a real long nap, son."

And then he felt Carl's tears on his neck, dampening the collar of his hospital gown as the little boy cried into his shoulder. He sobbed. A mixture of sadness and happiness. And relief to see his dad awake. Rick squeezed him tighter and rubbed a hand soothingly over his back. "Shh, c'mon, it's okay. I'm alright."

"Jesus, Rick," Lori's voice made Rick open his eyes and look up to meet the woman's gaze. She was watching her son and husband hug with wide eyes, wringing her hands together nervously. "We were so worried. It's been… it's been over a month. The doctors didn't know if – if you'd ever wake up. Or be the same."

He sniffled and gently pried Carl's arms from around his neck, giving him a light kiss on the head before leaning back to look at Lori. "Well, here I am. Feel like shit, but I ain't brain dead or paralyzed. So far."

Lori let out a long, shuddery sigh, like she'd been holding her breath. He could see her blinking back tears, then she took a step forward, pausing while Carl climbed up onto the bed to sit with his dad. Rick scooted over to make room, and then Lori approached the bedside and leaned over Carl to wrap her thin arms around Rick's neck. She hugged him tightly, and he hugged her back, burying his face into her chest, a sudden relief flowing through him as she held him and he breathed in her familiar scent. She smelled like home, too.

"You scared the hell out of us," she whispered, her cheek pressed to the top of his head. "I'd started ta think… I-I just couldn't imagine losing Shane and you…"

He heard the despair in her voice and his stomach knotted up. Shane.

"Oh, Rick, I love you," Lori whispered, voice choked with tears. "I'm so sorry for that stupid fight we had before you left, I'm sorry for – for everything. I was so terrified t'lose you. I-I was so – I felt so horrible knowing what my last words t'you were…"

He couldn't hold back the tears brimming his eyes anymore. Rick felt the wetness on his cheeks, felt the cannulas being pressed uncomfortably into his nose from burying his face into Lori's chest, and the scruff on his face itching from the fabric of her dress. But he didn't care. He squeezed her tightly and let a few more tears escape. The last morning he could remember didn't matter to him anymore. He didn't care what she'd said. She didn't mean it. He could tell; he could feel it in the way she held him now. Then they pulled apart and she leaned down, holding his face in her hands and kissing him softly on the lips.

"Mom, I'm right here," Carl muttered in annoyance, leaning farther away from his mom and dad as they kissed.

Rick felt Lori smile against his lips and he let the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a small smile, as well. She kissed him again before pulling away, continuing to hold his face in her hands, gazing down into his eyes. Tears streaked down her cheeks, cutting a track through her light layer of makeup. She offered him a weak smile, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that they had a lot of talking to do. He had a lot of catching up to do. And none of it would be pleasant.

Lori pulled one of the chairs over to sit at his bedside, her arms resting on the edge of the white sheets as she held his hand tightly. Carl sat up at the edge of the bed, squeezed in beside his dad with his hands resting over Rick's blanketed legs. He was glued to Rick's side, like when he was a toddler. Rick could still remember little Carl constantly clinging to his legs like it was yesterday. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was ten years old and spending weeks away from home at summer camp. Rick was afraid that if he blinked again, he'd be watching his son drive off to college. He was still badly shaken up from finding out that he'd lost an entire month of his life to a head injury.

Lori's face was pale, her eyes searching Rick as she squeezed his hand. He could tell she was dreading having to tell him about everything he'd missed. Her voice was weak, still choked up with unshed tears, as she asked, "What'd the doctor say? I couldn't find him on my way up here – you talked to 'im, right?"

Rick nodded, gazing back steadily into his wife's hazel eyes. "Yeah. Edwards. He said I uh, got lucky. Pretty much. Not exactly the most pleasant guy I ever met. Guess I interrupted his breakfast by wakin' up from my coma."

Lori frowned and rolled her eyes, lip turning up in a scowl. "Figures. I don't know why they insisted on movin' you here – this place is… so ghetto. I'm sorry, baby, I'll see what we can do about gettin' you back ta Harrison."

Rick shrugged. "Ain't that bad. Don't matter anyway – I won't be in here much longer. They'll release me soon, then I can get back t'work."

Lori furrowed her brow and gave Rick's hand a harsh squeeze. "Rick, I think work is the last thing you should be thinking about right now. You just woke up from a coma. We – we don't even know if you're really… okay."

Rick gave her a quizzical look. "I woke up. I remember everythin'. I can move everythin'. I'm fine."

Lori sighed and looked down at her hands covering his, licking her lips nervously before she explained, "You – it could be temporary. There's this thing that happens when people wake up from a coma, an' sometimes they wake up and act like they're perfectly fine, but then the injury is so traumatic – "

"Lori, stop," Rick interrupted, and she stopped, her eyes quickly flicking up to meet his again. "This isn't one a yer Grey's Anatomy episodes. Don't talk like that." He glanced at Carl, who was fidgeting quietly with a loose thread in the blanket. Listening. Always listening, Rick knew.

"I'm just – I'm sorry. I need ta talk to Edwards, find out what they think of yer recovery," Lori apologized, her grip on Rick's hand loosening. "It'll still be a long rehabilitation. You won't be ready for something like work for a while, honey. You have to take time ta heal."

He was starting to feel like she was talking down to him again. Like he was a complete idiot who needed help understanding the simplest concepts. But he pushed it down and reminded himself that Lori was a worrier. She'd always been a worrier. And this was no different. It was how she showed her love. It was also how she hid her fear. Everyone dealt with their fear in different ways. She dealt with hers by nagging, fighting, and overcompensating.

"Fine. Talk to the doctor," Rick said, speaking softer and gazing apologetically into her eyes. "But I promise, I'm fine… I know it'll be a little bit, I'll have ta be out. But they'll need me back as soon as I'm able."

He could see Lori chewing on the inside of her cheek, a small flare of anger flashing across her eyes. Then she said, "Rick, you spent a month lyin' in a bed, gettin' all your meals through a tube an' pissin' through a catheter. That damn job was fine before you, they'll be fine without you now. How can you wake up from a coma and immediately start talking about gettin' back to work?"

"Lori," Rick replied simply, staring back unwaveringly. "Who put me in the coma? An' more importantly: who killed Shane?"

Lori's jaw clenched and he saw another flash of anger in her eyes. But it wasn't towards him this time. She cleared her throat and looked down, away from his expectant gaze. He heard her sniffle, and then she pulled one hand away from his to wipe at her eyes, head hung low so he couldn't see her face. Her other hand was still resting loosely over Rick's. He waited a few seconds longer for an answer, but all she did was shake her head and sniffle again.

"You don't know, do you?" Rick asked quietly, a knot quickly forming in his throat. "That's why I have t'get back to work. I have to find who's responsible, find the Greene's. I have t'get justice – "

Lori lifted her head and met his gaze again, her teary eyes narrowed. She returned her hand to the top of his and squeezed it, interrupting him with a firm and defiant tone of voice as she spoke. "Maggie Greene put you in a coma. And that evil little girl, Beth Greene, murdered Shane. Everyone says Hershel orchestrated the whole thing – we all know who did it, Rick. We all know who needs to pay. That entire family is locked up. Except Beth. But they'll find her soon, they get closer every day. You can help get justice by getting better, and goin' t'court to testify."

"What – Beth Greene shot Shane? Maggie… the brunette?" Rick asked, voice weak as this new information began to process in his head. "What'd she do ta me? What'd she hit me with?"

Lori's eyes softened and she squeezed Rick's hands tightly, leaning in a little closer. "Oh, baby. You didn't see anything? Or you don't remember?"

Rick blinked, head throbbing harder than ever. "No, I – yeah, I remember. But I… heard a weapon discharged. I thought it was Shane's. Then I saw 'im. Layin' there – but I didn't see who hit me. She – she blindsided me. It all happened so fast."

Lori's eyes teared up again and her bottom lip trembled. She cleared her throat but her voice still cracked as she slowly explained, "Beth shot Shane in the back. Like the coward she is. It penetrated his heart. He-he was dead by the time he hit the floor. You – Maggie used a lamp. She bashed you over the head. They tried to kill you, baby."

Rick felt a sharp pain in his chest. He could still see Shane lying on that floor. He'd been dead in that moment. Was that true? Was it possible? For someone to be killed so suddenly, so instantly? Beth Greene… he'd seen her. She'd been standing off to the side. She'd appeared harmless. Rick had given her a twice-over with his eyes when he entered the farmhouse, glanced at her a time or two from his peripherals afterwards. He could remember every single second between stepping through the front door of the farmhouse and being hit over the head. That little blonde girl hadn't said a word. But she also didn't have anything in her hands. Had she been hiding a weapon the whole time? Had he somehow missed it? How could he have thought to turn his back on that wide-eyed, pale-faced teenager?

"Wait," he said, closing his eyes in an attempt to dull the throbbing in the right side of his head. "You said – they'll find Beth? She's not locked up? What about Maggie? Hershel? They busted the farm, how could they not…"

He trailed off and opened his eyes again to see Lori's sympathetic gaze. She nodded and explained, "Of course they did. You and Shane brought that entire operation down – they might've never gotten that family in handcuffs if it weren't fer you two. But… they tried ta run. Maggie an' that Asian guy got tackled. But Beth… got away. She ran into the woods. They lost her."

Rick swallowed past a painful knot that had gradually been forming in his throat while Lori talked. Every new piece of information was like another knife to his heart. He wasn't sure that he could handle this much bad news in such a short amount of time. And this much guilt. He couldn't help but feel like it was all his fault. Rick was supposed to be Shane's partner, supposed to cover him and protect him from shit like this. If he'd only been more prepared, more attentive, he could've helped bring all the Greene's down. Little Beth would be locked up just like her no-good daddy and sister. Shane wouldn't be dead.

"Lost her, huh," Rick mumbled, resting his head back against the pillow and gazing up at the ceiling. The heavy weight of defeat was filling his every muscle. "You said… they're gettin' close, though? They're about ta find 'er, charge 'er for his murder… right?"

He looked over at Lori and watched her chewing on her lower lip, eyes clouded. She replied softly, "Yeah. There – they get tips almost every day. She can't run far. They've got her on a no-fly list, they sent her pictures out to every border agency – she's a kid. A stupid kid. They'll catch her. But you don't need ta worry about it. You have enough on your plate with recovering from this injury. Then we can talk about gettin' back t'work."

Rick closed his eyes for a long moment and sighed. Then he opened them to gaze over at Carl, who was still sitting quietly by Rick's legs, fidgeting with loose threads in the blanket. He turned his head to meet Lori's sad eyes again. She was watching him expectantly, still squeezing his hands as if to remind him that she was there.

"Why weren't you here?" He asked quietly. "I woke up an' looked for you. The nurses said you only visited a couple times."

Lori furrowed her brow, frowning. "Rick, I couldn't just drop everything t'spend every second here, waiting for you t'wake up. We visited when we could, but things have been hectic. It's hard for us t'even go out in public anymore. Besides, a hospital isn't a good place for a child t'be all the time… I didn't want Carl t'see you like that. He was always so upset when we'd visit."

"What d'you mean, hard fer you t'go out in public?" Rick asked. "I understand you had t'take care a stuff, but only comin' ta check on me twice?"

Lori sighed, pulling her hands back and resting them in her lap. Her back stiffened. "It's – the reporters are ridiculous. This case is being kept so quiet that it's drivin' the media crazy. They won't stop sniffin' around for information t'put in their little articles. They won't even leave me an' Carl alone."

Rick shook his head, bemused. "Reporters? Shit – Shane was right…"

Lori gave him a questioning look.

He sighed and explained, "I didn't – I thought Lerner was wrong. I didn't think old man Greene's operation would be that big. Shane kept talkin' about how much money he thought the Greene's were really workin' with. How busy we'd be with all the interviews we'd have ta give about bustin' somethin' so large-scale. I… underestimated the whole damn thing."

"Oh, baby, no," Lori said softly, eyes full of sympathy as she reached out to grab his hands again.

"Mom, yer just makin' Dad sad," Carl spoke up, grabbing their attention. "Can't we tell him the good news now?"

Rick furrowed his brow and looked from Carl to Lori. "There's good news?"

Lori quickly shook her head and dismissed it. "Carl, hush – I told you, I will tell him when the time is right. Dad's had a long morning, an' he's got a lot ta process already."

Carl closed his mouth tightly and looked back down to the threads he was fidgeting with.

When the time is right? For what? Rick thought. He started again, "Lori, what're you – "

But she was pulling her hands back and standing from her chair. "You must be starving, baby. Did they bring you any real food yet?"

Rick's head suddenly felt swimmy, like he'd just downed two shots of whiskey back-to-back. He blinked and shook his head, trying to brush it off and keep it from showing on his face. He closed his eyes for a long second, doing his best to appear thoughtful rather than confused.

Wait, what were we talking about – news? Something about bad or good – reporters? He thought. He couldn't figure out why he felt so confused, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was that he had just been asking Lori about. Carl had said something? It must not have been important if he'd already forgotten what it was. Lori was talking about food now. Food. Okay, maybe he just needed some food. Real food, not paste through a feeding tube.

The odd sensation in his head ebbed away, leaving only the throbbing behind. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes roughly with one hand, then looked back over at Lori. But she had turned and walked away. She was standing at the door now, peeking out through the small, rectangular window. Carl was watching him, though. Their eyes met and the young boy gave his dad a slightly concerned and quizzical look. Rick worried that he would scare the poor kid more than he already had, so he quickly put on his best attempt at a smile.

"Jesus Christ, they're already swarming around here. Like vultures," Lori hissed, staring through the window of the door.

"What – who?" Rick asked, trying to see over Lori's shoulder and find out what she was talking about.

She shook her head and turned around, walking briskly over to the bedside and reaching out to grab Carl's hand and urge him off the bed. "I'll go deal with 'em – an' then I'll find that doctor and find out how you're doing. We'll bring you back something from the cafeteria – you want a muffin? Maybe some cherry Jell-O?"

Carl hesitantly slid down off the bed and joined his mother, taking her hand. Rick shook his head, beginning to sit up. "No, don't go anywhere yet – "

"Rick, don't sit up," Lori scolded, stepping forward and reaching her free hand out to gently push him back. "We'll be right back. And hopefully I'll bring Edwards with me."

Rick sighed, relaxing slightly. "Alright… Jus' don't leave without tellin' me, would ya?"

"We won't," Lori assured him, and Carl stepped forward to hug his father once more before following his mother out of the room.

Rick could hear a lot of voices out in the hall for the brief moment that the door was open. Just before it fell shut, he could hear a woman's voice calling out – rather loudly, too: "Mrs. Grimes! Mrs. Grimes! LORI!"

But the door shut before he could hear Lori's reaction. And he couldn't see anything from his bed, not even through the rectangular window.

---

Nurse Phyllis returned before Lori and Carl could. She explained that they needed to move Rick out to get his feeding tube and catheter removed before they took him to another room for observation. Then she injected something into his IV for the headache, ignoring everything else he complained about, like the fact that he wanted to stay and wait for his wife and son to return before they performed any type of removals or tried to move him elsewhere. His objections died down when he began to grow sleepy, and he would've been angry about being medicated back to sleep if it weren't for how heavy his eyelids were, how numb his entire head felt, and how much energy it took to use his voice.

He must've managed to form at least one or two comprehensible words before drifting off, though, because the last thing he heard was Phyllis speaking reassuringly. "Trust me, sweetie, yer lucky you don't gotta be awake when we take the catheter out."

Everything went black. Again. It felt like a split-second to Rick, and then his eyes were fluttering open and his heart was racing as he looked around in confusion. He immediately calmed when he saw Lori and Carl sitting at his bedside, perking up when they realized he was awake. Dr. Edwards was standing on the other side, gazing down at a chart and making notes with a pen. No food in his mouth this time, but the mustard stain was still present on his white lab coat. He looked up from his chart and gazed down at Rick through square glasses, raising his eyebrows like he'd been impatiently waiting for Rick to wake up.

"Rick, we're here – how d'you feel?" Lori asked, reaching out and grasping Rick's left hand in both of hers.

He looked around the room, taking in his new surroundings. The room they'd moved him to was larger, but otherwise identical to the previous one. It was the same sterile white, with the same curtains and chairs, as well as an identical sink on the opposite side from the bed right next to the bathroom door. The same paper Halloween decorations pinned to the walls, too. There was a large, navy blue curtain hanging in the middle of the room, separating the two halves. Rick was on the side closest to the window, while the occupant of the other half of the room was closest to the door. The beeps of Rick's machines weren't the only sounds in the room anymore. Now they were accompanied by the beeps of more machines – someone else's heart and blood pressure monitors, on the other side of the curtain.

His mouth felt dry again and he licked his lips, struggling to clear his throat and speak clearly. "I-I feel fine. What – where'd they move me?"

"See? I told you he was fine," Dr. Edwards muttered, pointedly looking at Lori. "If he had been dying, they wouldn't have sent 'im here."

Rick looked back and forth from Lori to Dr. Edwards, watching Lori frown at the doctor and roll her eyes before squeezing Rick's hand and giving him a reassuring smile.

"Good t'see you again, Mr. Grimes," Edwards said louder, speaking to Rick now. "You're still in the ICU for observation, but we moved you to a shared room. Y'know, conserving resources an' all that. We took the feeding tube out – and the catheter – so make sure you get up if you have t'pee. Or just use the bedpan. I don't care. You can eat solid food, but take it easy. Stick to the soft stuff. The pain meds are gonna make you constipated enough as it is."

Rick couldn't stand this guy. Edwards spoke like doing his job was taking up too much of his precious time. But Rick was still too drowsy to get angry or upset, or even to argue. He just wanted more answers.

"How – how long?" He croaked out, pausing and licking his lips before elaborating. "How long you gonna keep me? Till I can go home."

Dr. Edwards shrugged and glanced at Lori, then back to Rick. He tucked the clipboard beneath his arm and stuffed his pen into the front pocket of his white coat. "A week. Maybe more. Depends on yer recovery. Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?"

Rick furrowed his brow and shut his eyes, sighing. When he opened them, Edwards was walking away, crossing the room and moving toward the curtain. Lori squeezed Rick's hand.

"Baby, I told you it'd be a long recovery," she said gently. "We just have ta be patient – "

"No, I can't – I ain't gonna be laid up in a hospital fer another month," Rick grumbled in protest, his voice coming out louder than he'd expected, or really intended.

Edwards stopped mid-stride and glanced back over his shoulder, meeting Rick's eyes for a second before stepping aside and reaching out a hand to grab the edge of the navy blue curtain. Rick watched as the doctor unabashedly pulled the curtain back to reveal the other half of the room. And the other bed's occupant. Lori and Carl spun around in their seats to watch, too.

"Mr. Grimes, this is your new roommate," Dr. Edwards said flatly. "His name is Jim."

Rick peered over at the other bed curiously, all the monitors and machines surrounding it, all the wires and tubes connected to the man lying in the bed. This man looked like he was in his thirties, pale skin, messy dark hair, and an unshaven face. But his eyes were closed. He was completely motionless. There was a thick, plastic tube in his mouth, and a machine that did all the work of breathing for him. The beep of his heart monitor was consistent. Steady. Mechanical.

"He's in something we call a 'persistive vegetative state,'" Edwards explained matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised. "He had a blunt force trauma to the head, too. A fifteen-pound bowling ball fell on him while he was cleaning out his garage. He had most of the same surgeries as you. A couple more hemorrhages, sure – nothing too serious. He was stable, recovering. Like you were just yesterday. But he didn't wake up. It's been four months. His family is currently tearing each other apart trying to decide whether to pull the plug and, as they say: 'let nature take its course.' So…"

He smiled stiffly and pulled the curtain back to its original position, separating the two halves of the sterile white room again. Rick felt a shudder run through his body as he met the doctor's eyes once more. That other man was no different than Rick. He understood that. That could've very easily been him in that bed.

"Let's be thankful you woke up. Everything else is just the price you pay for getting to survive," Dr. Edwards finished plainly. Then he put on another awkward, forced smile for half a second and glanced around at the Grimes Family before turning and briskly leaving the room.

Lori waited until the door had fallen shut behind Edwards to speak, eyes big and full of worry. "Well, he's rough around the edges, but – he's got a point." She squeezed Rick's hand and he scowled, looking away to stare blankly at the large curtain hanging in the middle of the room.

Reminding me that I got it better'an some schmuck I don't even know ain't gonna make me feel any better, he thought bitterly. Might as well remind me that Shane lost his entire life an' I only lost a month… I fuckin' know. Doesn't make laying in the hospital any easier. 'Specially when I know there's still a Greene out there, walking free.

"I'm sorry, baby," Lori said softly, leaning in closer. "If it's only a week, it won't be so bad. We can – "

Rick interrupted her, unable to hide the aggravation from his voice as he met her gaze, "It can't be more than a week, Lori. I don't even wanna think about the bill I already got racked up from spendin' the last month here – we can't afford fer me ta not get outta here as soon as possible."

"Don't worry about that right now," Lori scolded, squeezing his hand with both of hers in his blanketed lap. "We have insurance, we can deal with it after we make sure you get better."

Rick scoffed and shook his head. "Insurance we got ain't that good. I don't even know if my new plan kicked in yet from my promotion. Jesus, I'll have ta get a second mortgage…"

Lori's eyes were tearing up but she quickly blinked them away. "Stop it. We will figure it out. More stress isn't gonna help you recover – how d'you really feel? Be honest, Rick. No nausea, dizziness, confusion? Edwards an' that nurse said somethin' about – "

He stopped her because every word she said was grating on his nerves. "I'm fine. Don't tell me not t'worry when it's the only thing you ever do."

He wasn't sure why he'd said that aloud, or why his voice had sounded so cold. He saw Lori's eyes fill with more tears as she gazed back at him, an expression of confusion briefly appearing on her face. But then she pulled her hands away from his, resting them in her lap, and nodded.

"Okay," she sighed, and he could almost see her biting her tongue. Then she spoke with a lighter tone, putting on a stiff smile and glancing over at Carl. "I think your dad's hungry – let's go get 'im that food, okay?"

"Thought that's where you were goin' before they moved me," Rick muttered, speaking through a hoarse, dry throat. He watched Lori from behind heavy eyelids as she shrugged and stood up.

"They told me you were gettin' your feeding tube out an' you wouldn't be awake for an hour or two, so we waited for you t'wake up instead," she explained, moving around to gather her purse and cell phone. "Didn't want yer food t'get cold. C'mon, Carl."

Rick wanted to ask what they'd done while they waited, wondering whose voice he'd heard in the hallway calling Lori's name. But his throat was painfully dry, and then Carl was speaking, so Rick didn't say anything.

"But, Mom," Carl argued, gazing up at Lori from where he sat in the chair at Rick's bedside. "I wanna stay with Dad. I wanna tell 'im about school, and football, and – "

Lori threw up her hands in exasperation and sighed loudly. "Fine! I'll go by myself. But you'd better eat what I bring back. And stay in the room. You got it?"

Carl nodded fervently and gave his mother a thankful smile before turning to look at Rick.

"He's with me, he'll be fine," Rick said weakly, loud enough that he knew Lori heard him.

She took long strides to the door before leaving, purse over her shoulder, muttering "sure, whatever" on her way out. And then it was just Rick, Carl, and Vegetable Jim.

After Rick had an extremely refreshing cup of water, he felt considerably better. He sat in bed, relaxing against the pillow and watching Carl's facial expressions change while the ten-year-old talked about his first month back at school, joining the football team, talking to the cute new girl, and which teachers he liked and didn't like. Rick smiled, his chest and head both feeling lighter than they had all day. Just being with his son and hearing him talk was enough to improve his mood and mindset. After a few minutes, he wasn't thinking about Shane or the Greene's or any of that mess. He just really wanted to know if Carl planned on asking out this new girl, and if he would ever get along with his science teacher.

About fifteen minutes into talking about his adventures at school, Carl paused and glanced toward the door, and Rick got the feeling that he was looking for Lori. Then he looked back to Rick, the excited smile fading from his face as his big, brown eyes grew full of concern. He leaned in closer to the edge of Rick's bed, resting his elbows on the sheets and speaking quieter. As if Lori would hear him from the hallway, or Vegetable Jim would care at all about what he said.

"Dad, I'm really glad you woke up," Carl said. "Everybody at school says yer a hero , but… I think I woulda liked it better if you didn't go ta work that day. I mean, it's cool that yer a hero. An' everybody says Uncle Shane's a hero, too. But I don't want you t'be a hero if it means you have ta die…" He looked down at the blanket, embarrassed and a little ashamed.

Rick's heart melted. He felt the guilt weighing down on him again, but he tried to sound strong and confident. "I'm sorry, Carl… about yer Uncle Shane." He couldn't manage any more words because a painful knot had settled in his throat, threatening tears.

Carl looked up again, meeting Rick's eyes and giving him a bemused look. "Why're you sorry about Uncle Shane? You did everything you could t'stop that bad Greene family."

Don't feel that way, Rick thought. He sighed quietly and swallowed hard, struggling to stare back into his son's expectant eyes.

He tried his hardest not to let his voice crack as he attempted to explain his guilt to a child. But Carl had to know the truth – that his dad wasn't perfect. And that mistakes had consequences. "Because I was his partner, and it was my job t'protect him. I – made a mistake. I underestimated that family. And Shane… lost his life over it."

Carl only looked more quizzical, furrowing his brow and studying Rick's face for a moment as his little brain worked to process the information. Then he frowned and shook his head. "No, Dad. This stuff happens all the time. I looked up a whole buncha stories on the internet about police officers gettin' killed by drug dealers, Uncle Shane didn't – "

"Does yer mom know you been readin' that kinda stuff?" Rick interrupted, growing agitated. Carl was too young to be reading all those horror stories. What kind of ideas had the kid been getting into his head while Rick was in a coma? Had Lori even taken the time to explain the whole situation to him? Or was she going to do the same thing she'd done after Carl's dog died – avoid it and make up transparent fairytales until he found out the truth on his own?

Maybe bein' outta work for a little while would be good for him. Havin' me around t'do more parenting – teach him the shit that I know Lori never will, Rick thought. But only briefly. As much as he loved Carl, he knew that abandoning work would not be an option anytime soon. Not when Shane's killer was still out there somewhere.

Carl looked away, ashamed again. "No, but – I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad." He lifted his eyes hesitantly to meet Rick's, who was listening with pursed lips while Carl continued, "I know what death is, an' I know how dangerous yer job is. And – and I was scared. I thought you were gonna die. Mom kept crying and throwing up, an' she'd get mad if I asked t'come see you. I think it was hard for her t'see you in here. I wanted t'visit every day. I made you some cards, but… I forgot 'em at home this morning."

Rick was concerned by almost all of these sentiments – particularly the fact that Carl thought he was grown up already, as well as the fact that Lori had refused to bring him to visit when he'd wanted to so badly. What was that woman thinking these days? But then he couldn't resist the small smile that formed on his lips at the thought of a stack of homemade cards from Carl. He was already excited to get home and find them.

"I bet they're beautiful, I can't wait t'see 'em," he said, smiling weakly. "I know yer not little anymore, Carl, but there's still some things ya can't quite understand. It'll make sense when you get older, but… I ain't no hero, son. Not even close."

Carl shrugged indifferently. "That's okay. You will be. Mom says after they catch that Beth girl, that you'll help get justice for Shane. An' then you'll be a real hero. Is that what you mean, Dad?"

Rick opened his mouth to reply but he couldn't find the right words. Carl was so innocent, still oblivious to the true nature of the world. He couldn't bring himself to shatter that. Had Lori bothered to explain that the justice system didn't always work the way it was supposed to? Had she been so swallowed up by her own grief that she'd left Carl to deal with things he couldn't understand all alone? Did he really understand death, or did he have some sort of skewed idea about it? What would happen once all the Greene's were behind bars and Carl realized that it changed absolutely nothing – that Shane would still be gone, and Rick and Lori would still be permanently scarred? What would happen to his idea of "heroes" then?

He sighed, licking his lips and thinking about what he would say, gazing back into Carl's expectant eyes. Then he explained, "It might not be that easy, bud. I uh – I have ta get back out there, help 'em find that Greene girl. It'll take a long time before we get any answers. But they need my help. I can't sit back an' watch, hopin' they'll catch Shane's killer. I owe it ta Shane t'do everything in my power… D'you understand?"

Carl's lips were pressed tightly together, listening attentively. He quickly nodded and Rick could see the information being absorbed into his sponge-like little kid brain. Then he said quietly, "Yeah, Dad, I understand. Mom's gonna be mad, but – jus' be careful, okay? We're gonna need you more than ever soon."

Rick furrowed his brow, about to ask Carl what he meant, but the sound of the door opening stopped him, and they both turned and looked to see Lori returning with a tray of food in her hands. She smiled while she approached, door falling shut behind her as she crossed the room. Rick smiled back weakly, watching her set the tray on the small, swiveling table next to his bed, retrieving her and Carl's food before turning the table so that it rested over Rick's lap.

"Okay, I got you tomato soup an' crackers, and some juice," she explained, sitting down with a sandwich in her hands and turning to Carl. "And they were all outta chicken salad, so I got egg salad an' tuna salad."

Rick gazed down at the watery tomato soup in the beige, plastic bowl before him, a couple of packages of crackers sitting beside it, and a small carton of apple juice. He picked up his spoon carefully, then looked over to see Carl sniffing the sandwich in his hands and making a disgusted face before holding it out to Lori.

"Can I have the egg salad? This tuna smells weird," Carl asked.

Lori rolled her eyes, trading him sandwiches. "That's just how tuna smells."

Rick smiled wistfully, watching his wife and son as they unwrapped their sandwiches and opened their juice cartons, playfully bickering. He went back to his own meal, moving slowly as he struggled to firmly grasp the spoon between his fingers. He spilled his first few spoonfuls of soup, growing frustrated when his hands refused to remain steady but managing to keep it to himself. A couple more tries and he finally got his first taste of real food in over a month. It was disappointing, even for hospital food.

His stomach was grateful nonetheless, and he was proud of himself for keeping the spoon steady as he continued to eat. He even opened the juice carton completely on his own, which he was afraid would be more difficult than usual after fighting with the spoon. Carl and Lori didn't seem to notice him having any problems, though, and they began discussing some of the things Rick had missed while he was asleep. He was relieved to hear Lori talking casually and somewhat optimistically about normal things, her voice sounding less weary and strained than before, and a smile appearing on her face while she looked from her son to her husband.

He was even more relieved to find his strength slowly coming back to his hands and fingers – he was feeling better already, and thinking about how he would be out and back to work in no time. Lori and Edwards were underestimating him, as usual. Which meant he'd have to work doubly hard to prove them wrong. Not that he wasn't used to it by now. According to Edwards, he'd already defied the odds just by waking up. Everything else would be cake. Rick had always been resilient, and he was proud of that fact.

Lori and Carl sat and talked with him for a couple of hours after they'd finished eating. They discussed Carl's first month back at school, what Rick had missed in church, and how the rest of the family had been doing. They all seemed to have silently agreed to avoid talking about the Greene case or the media or whatever other problems Lori had been dealing with alone, at least for the time being. Bellies full of food, no matter how mediocre, and lots of reminiscing had put them all in better moods. Rick followed Lori's cue and left all the argument-provoking questions at the back of his head for the day. There would be plenty of time later, after he was out of the hospital, when he could ask her why she didn't bring Carl to see him – among other things. For now, he wanted to enjoy their light-hearted conversation and catch up on everything he'd missed. Seeing all the photos on Lori's phone that she'd been taking since he'd been asleep, of Carl on his first day of school and during numerous other activities, gave him a rush of appreciation and love for his wife. No matter how much they argued these days, there would always be some things about her that he couldn't help but love. Like her need for lots of family photos, scrapbooks, and photo albums.

She helped him get out of bed and walk to the bathroom for the first time, forcing him to move slowly and carefully. He was frustrated at the way she was coddling him, like he could fall over and break a hip at any moment. But when he realized just how weak his legs had become, he bit back any complaints and accepted her assistance. He did, however, insist on conducting his business alone. Once he'd gotten back into bed and Lori was tucking the blanket in around him, he felt rather proud of himself. And once again, he was reassured that this recovery would be a breeze. It was just a case of cleaning out all the cobwebs – he was sure of it. He was already thinking of ways he could convince the doctor to release him early.

Carl was talking about his upcoming parent/teacher conference when there was a light knock at the door. He paused as they all turned their attention to the door, watching a young, male nurse open the door a crack and peek his head in. He glanced over Rick and spoke to Lori.

"Mrs. Grimes, that reporter lady is here again, should I –"

Lori was on her feet in the blink of an eye, cutting him off as she crossed the room and approached him, "I told you, she is not allowed anywhere near this room – didn't you talk to Edwards? I've had this conversation more than once with him…"

She lowered her voice and Rick couldn't hear what they were saying. But within a few short moments, the nurse had disappeared and the door was shut again. Lori was peering out through the rectangular window, and when she turned around, her lips were pressed into a thin line and her nostrils were flared. Rick wanted to ask what was going on, but then the door opened again. Lori paused next to her chair, spinning around, prepared to tell that nurse off again. But it was Nurse Phyllis this time.

"How's it going?" She smiled at Lori and Carl, walking straight for Rick. "Sorry ta interrupt yer family time, but it's time fer meds and a vitals check."

Lori nodded and put on a polite smile, watching Phyllis as she began checking Rick's monitors and machines, and then his bandages. Then Lori's gaze flicked over to meet Rick's, and her polite smile remained. It looked forced.

"Well, I think me an' Carl need t'get going anyway," she said, picking up her purse and slipping her phone inside before putting the strap over her shoulder. "I've still got some errands I need t'get done today, and Carl has a sleepover tonight."

Rick and Carl frowned simultaneously, and Carl was the first to argue. "But, Mom, it's not even supper time yet. We can stay a few more hours."

"Yeah, don't go yet," Rick agreed softly. Phyllis injected something into his IV that made his head feel lighter than air for a brief moment, but he managed to stay focused on the subject at hand.

Lori sighed and shook her head, speaking to Carl and gesturing for him to get up and get ready to go. "I know it's not supper time, but I have t'get this stuff done today and I'm not leaving you here. I don't have the gas to be driving back here t'get you and take you to your friend's house. Now c'mon, get yer stuff an' let's go."

Phyllis finished checking Rick's monitors and administering his medicine, and she gave him a brief, wide-eyed look before pressing her lips tightly together and silently turning away to leave the room. She seemed to walk a little quicker than normal, avoiding being stuck in the middle of whatever was going on.

"Oh, what d'you gotta do today that's so important?" Rick asked, brow furrowed as he watched Lori shuffling around and urging Carl out of his chair.

She turned to give him an exasperated eye roll.

"I jus' woke up after thirty-four days, babe," he reminded her.

She shook her head and approached his bedside, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Then she took a step back and stood with her hand on Carl's shoulder. "Weren't you listening ta anything I said in the last hour? I have t'make sure the bills are paid and there's a roof over our heads while yer in here, Rick. I'm trying ta raise our son and maintain our home all on my own."

Her voice was irritated already and she was looking for an argument, but Rick resisted. He simply sighed and closed his eyes for a long second, then opened them and nodded. He met Lori's gaze again and said, "Okay. Will you come back soon? Both a you?"

Carl looked from his dad up to his mom, an expectant expression on his face.

"Of course we will," Lori said, tone softening just the slightest. "We'll stop by after church tomorrow – how's that sound?" She looked down to Carl with a weak smile, who nodded in agreement, then they both looked to Rick for his reaction.

He was dreading spending the next twelve or more hours in the hospital, all alone. But there was no use arguing. He knew that gas really was expensive, and being put in a hospital so far from home was more than inconvenient. He also knew that she was dealing with all her regular responsibilities on top of the responsibilities that were normally his. He understood that. All the more reason to get out of the hospital. She needed his help. Carl needed his dad.

So Rick nodded, his voice coming out more hoarse than he'd expected. "Alright, that sounds good. After church."

She gave another tight-lipped smile and assured him, "Yeah."

"Oh, want me t'say hi to Pastor Craig for you, Dad?" Carl asked.

Rick chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, bud. An' you can tell 'im that I'll be back at church real soon."

Carl grinned. He climbed up and gave Rick an extra long, extra tight hug, sharing "I love you"s and "see you tomorrow"s. Then Rick watched his son follow Lori out of the room. The door fell shut behind them, leaving Rick with nothing more than the steady beeping of his and Vegetable Jim's monitors.

He wasn't alone for long, though. He guessed that Nurse Phyllis had been waiting for Lori and Carl to leave before returning, because she entered the room a couple of minutes later. Rick was resting his eyes, replaying all of the conversations with his wife and son in his head. He lifted his heavy eyelids and looked over to see Phyllis at his bedside, gathering up the tray full of plastic dishes, wrappers, and napkins. She smiled when she met his gaze.

"How you feelin'?" She asked. "Didn't wanna interrupt, but I had ta give you yer meds an' I wasn't sure how much longer they'd be here. Didn't spend too long, did they? Then again, that wife a yers seems like she's got her hands full."

Rick nodded slowly, watching Phyllis move about the room, searching for stray dishes and food wrappers. He said, "Yeah, she's – keepin' pretty busy, I guess. Too busy fer the husband that just woke up from a coma…"

Phyllis tsked and shook her head, stopping and turning to face Rick with the tray held in her hands. "Oh, c'mon now. She's got a lot ta take care of, 'specially with yer whole situation. Between the legal stuff, the news reporters, the doctors – well, you've got a good woman. She don't back down from a challenge, that's fer sure."

Rick grunted. "Right. All the news reporters – who's the reporter lady I heard 'em talkin' about? Is somebody harassing my family?"

Phyllis furrowed her brow, feigning ignorance, but he could tell that she knew exactly what he was talking about. She shrugged and said, "There's tons of 'em. They're always tryin' ta slip in, an' now that yer awake, they're gonna be sneakier than ever. They just want their story, that's all. Don't care about the actual case none. Don't care that a man lost his life. You don't go worryin' yerself with all that, though – there ain't nothin' you can do in yer position anyhow."

"Jesus – everybody already knows I woke up?" Rick asked, baffled.

Phyllis laughed lightly. "'Course they do. Although… I got my suspicions that there's somebody in this hospital leakin' information that they ain't supposed to, but – well, I'm workin' on figuring that out. Fer the most part, it's jus' the age we live in. Nothin' stays quiet fer long, not when everybody's got smart phones an' internet an' fifty different news channels."

Somebody leaking information? Rick thought, a little more curious about what Phyllis had said than he was sure she'd intended him to be. Like a nurse? Or… a doctor?

He shook his head and dismissed the thought, putting it at the bottom of his list of priorities when it came to finding out what was really going on. He asked, "Speakin' a which – can I get my phone? I'd like ta catch up on things, maybe call a few people."

Nurse Phyllis frowned and shook her head. "Sorry, hon, Doctor said he wants you t'take it easy today. No extended screen time or added stress, might make that headache even worse – seems like ya had enough stress seein' the family. I can turn on the TV for ya, if ya want! I been seein' you all over the news for the last few hours."

Rick didn't have the energy to argue or question Dr. Edwards' stupid rules. His head was still throbbing, but it had become so constant that he was starting to get used to it. Occasionally, it would fade away, or his head would feel numb for ten or fifteen minutes. But it always came back. At the mention of being on the news, his heart sped up momentarily.

He hadn't even thought of that, honestly. Of course everyone would be going crazy about the fact that he woke up – it meant Maggie Greene wasn't a full-fledged murderer, and that he could testify when it came time to decide her family's punishment. But they were also probably expecting him to have some sort of verdict-changing testimony or something. A dramatic retelling of his and Shane's tragically heroic moment. And they were going to be awfully disappointed to find out that he barely remembered anything, let alone any details that mattered. Rick had a feeling he'd be dealing with a lot of disappointment before all was said and done.

"Alright. Whatever," he mumbled, sighing and turning his head to gaze blankly up at the TV mounted on the wall across from the bed.

Phyllis grabbed the remote from the small bedside table with her free hand and turned on the TV, and the screen flickered to life. It had been left on the Disney Channel, and she handed the remote to Rick before asking if he needed anything else. He shook his head and thanked her for what she did, then she assured him she'd be back in a couple of hours for another vitals check and some medication, as well as dinner.

He waited until she'd left the room and the door had fallen shut to turn up the volume on the TV, then quickly changed it to channel two and started surfing through the hospital's basic cable. Their TVs were older – the big, clunky models from the 90s with less-than-crisp pictures. The remote only worked when it was tilted at a certain angle. And the commercials were always twice as loud as the actual program.

Rick clicked through channels for a minute or two, searching for news stations. But it was late afternoon on a Saturday and all he could find were Dr. Phil reruns and CNN talking about something the president had done. He flipped through all forty-two channels again, slowing down to search for advertisements pertaining to the local news. When he found himself clicking through the same channels for the fifth time, he gave up and settled on a station that was playing a rerun of The Simpsons.

Sighing aloud, Rick glanced over at the navy blue curtain hanging in the middle of the room. He looked back to the TV, listening to the consistent beeping of Vegetable Jim's machines. "You like The Simpsons, Jim?" Rick asked. "I always got a kick outta Marge's sisters."

After about twenty minutes of watching TV, he felt his head throbbing noticeably worse. But he refused to admit to himself that Dr. Edwards might've been right to keep him from staring at a tiny cell phone screen all afternoon. He ignored the aching and continued watching TV. And when The Simpsons ended, he flipped through the channels again and settled on another rerun of a slightly entertaining show.

The five o'clock news came on right afterwards. It was the local Atlanta news station, and he'd been pleasantly surprised when the familiar logo appeared on the screen and the jingle played. His back stiffened and he sat up, paying closer attention and awaiting the inevitable story on his miraculous recovery. And sure enough, after a brief rundown of the stories that would be covered during their broadcast, the anchorwoman put on a stoic expression and began reading from a teleprompter in a slightly dramatized tone. A headline in bright red letters appeared below her on the screen, and Rick squinted to read it on the small TV from across the room: "Det. Rick Grimes Wakes Up From 34-Day Coma."

"…breathing on his own for the last three weeks, which surprised the doctors, but they moved him to Grady Memorial Hospital for continued treatment and observation. And this morning, it's reported that he finally regained consciousness after spending thirty-four days in a coma. Sources say he was awake and alert, with no signs of brain damage or any other long-term effects. His wife and young son were seen visiting Grady earlier today, of course – although uh, Mrs. Grimes has declined to comment for the time being. The family asks for respect and privacy at this time, as we can only hope that Detective Grimes continues with his incredible progress. Doctors say it is truly a miraculous recovery and Mr. Grimes is, to say the least, lucky to be alive. As far as how this could affect the status of the Greene's case, we're still waiting to find out. As we know, Hershel Greene has already pled guilty and waived his right to representation. However, his eldest daughter and her husband have pled not guilty – and recently, we learned that the prosecution could be considering the death penalty for both Hershel and his daughter if they are found to be guilty. As for the youngest daughter, Beth Greene, who allegedly shot and killed Detective Shane Walsh: she is currently the target of an active search being conducted by the FBI, as well as multiple other law enforcement agencies…"

The beeping from his heart monitor had grown rapid, and though he already knew most of these things he was hearing, it didn't make them any easier to hear. Seeing his name on the TV screen was surreal enough, but hearing about what had happened to him from a complete stranger – as well as what was going on with the Greene case – made it all the more unnerving. It was almost like he'd gotten close to convincing himself that it had all been a weird, fucked-up dream. But now, seeing it on the actual news, on the channel he watched every evening if he was home with Lori, made it real. Inescapably real. Agonizingly real.

"Still don't know why they moved me here," Rick said aloud, using Vegetable Jim as more of an excuse to use his voice than anything. Obviously not expecting an answer. "Gotta say, though, I think you mighta got the short end a the stick here, Jimbo. If Edwards is the asshole that operated on you – maybe you never stood a chance."

He got bored with the news and changed the channel again, returning to sitcom reruns that somewhat distracted him. A short while later, Nurse Phyllis returned with a new tray of food, which she didn't set in front of him until after she'd finished checking all of his vitals and administering his meds. Rick made small talk with her and didn't argue when she insisted on helping him take a trip to the bathroom before she left. On her way out the door, she mentioned that her shift would be ending soon, and Sundays are "the Lord's day," so she wouldn't be back to see him until Monday – but she assured him that he was in capable hands. He thanked her again and watched the door fall shut behind her.

She'd brought him another light meal, something that would be easy to eat and digest. He found it better than the lunch that Lori had brought, and after whatever Phyllis had shot into his IV combined with a decent meal, he felt considerably better. The throbbing in his head dulled to a forgettable ache. He let himself relax, pressing the little button on the bed to make it lie back a bit more. But not too far, because as tired as he felt, he didn't want to go back to sleep. Not yet.

At this point, Rick felt that he'd rather spend all night watching TV and gazing out the damn window than sleeping. He'd had enough sleep to last him the next year or two. There was also a small part of him that dreaded the panic that had come along with losing consciousness – like when they'd moved him. It was almost like waking up for the first time all over again. Something always seemed to change while he was asleep, and never for the better. He didn't want to find out what would happen if he let himself drift off for another moment. He couldn't afford to miss seeing Carl grow up, not a single day. He had an irrational fear of slipping into another coma and losing more precious time.

Almost two hours after he finished eating, Rick carefully got himself out of bed and took a trip to the bathroom. He moved slowly and carefully, legs still shaky under the unfamiliar weight. But he managed to do it all on his own, and then he returned to his bed to relax. He panted lightly, feeling like he'd just sprinted somewhere. He hoped this extreme weakness would pass soon.

Dr. Edwards entered the room shortly after Rick had gotten settled back into bed. He walked with purpose, taking long strides across the room without so much as a glance in Vegetable Jim's direction. Rick watched him quizzically as he approached. Edwards walked around the bed silently, checking the monitors and jotting down notes on his clipboard.

After an awkward minute of watching the doctor work in silence, Rick spoke up, "What's goin' – "

Edwards cut him off, still looking down at his clipboard, "You ate, right? Been using the bathroom? Everything feels normal? No confusion, nausea, dizziness?"

Rick raised his eyebrows, nodding and replying tentatively, "Yeah. Everythin's normal so far. I feel better."

Edwards nodded, appearing satisfied, and jotted something else onto his clipboard, then set it down on a nearby table and reached into the pocket of his lab coat. He pulled out a syringe, uncapping it and reaching out to check the IV connected to Rick's hand.

"What's that – what're you doin'?" Rick asked, growing slightly panicked. "Phyllis already gave me meds with supper."

"Relax," Edwards said sternly as he quickly and calmly injected the syringe into Rick's IV. Then he disposed of the used needle in a bright red bin attached to the wall. "You've had a big day. You've got an even bigger day tomorrow. Prob'ly gonna have more visitors. And my babysitting shift is over. I'm about t'go home for the night, so…"

Rick furrowed his brow, confused, watching Dr. Edwards pick up his clipboard and make another quick note. He was checking Rick's monitors again. Rick asked, "So what? What's that s'posed ta mean? You gonna let those reporters in tomorrow or somethin'? I dunno if I feel good enough t'be givin' statements or anything yet – "

Edwards scoffed and shook his head, pulling another syringe from his pocket. But he paused, holding it in his hands, and finally met Rick's bemused gaze. "No, trust me, I've been doing everything in my power t'keep those people out of here. Some of 'em are more persistent than others… Some of them have a great fashion sense, but a – very questionable sense of morality. But – no. I don't have time for all that mess, an' that kinda stress causes nothing but problems for brain trauma like yours."

Rick swallowed, eyeing the syringe in Edwards' hands. "Okay, so what're you givin' me?"

Edwards shrugged nonchalantly and uncapped the syringe, leaning in and injecting it into Rick's IV with one fluid motion. Rick tensed reflexively. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Just gonna make sure you get a good, long night's sleep."

That's when the panic set in. All of Rick's muscles went momentarily rigid and he felt his heart speeding up. His eyes widened and he watched indignantly as Edwards disposed of the second needle.

"What? No! I – I don't wanna go back t'sleep. Not yet, I don't – "

"Shh, you'll be fine," Edwards stopped him, picking up the clipboard again and casually making notes.

"No, please, I don't wanna…"

But Rick's eyelids grew impossibly heavy. And so fast, too. He had no time to prepare, or attempt to fight it. One second, he was staring up at Edwards, furious and baffled at the same time, fighting the urge to jump out of bed and tackle the doctor. And the next second, his entire body had gone numb. His head was floating away from the rest of his body, and he no longer had the energy to keep his eyes open, let alone to finish his sentence. His voice trailed off weakly. He felt the darkness reaching up to swallow him again, despite his best efforts to avoid it. He blinked and struggled to lift his eyelids again, managing to do so just long enough for one last look.

When Shane appeared, leaning against the wall behind Edwards with his arms crossed over his chest, appearing no different than the last time Rick had seen him alive, Rick told himself it was the weird moment between being awake and losing consciousness; he told himself it was that mid-cognizant moment in which everything you'd known was real suddenly came into question. Because there was no way Shane was really there.

Yet there he was, messy dark hair, gray T-shirt and worn jeans, cocky smirk on his face as he leaned smugly against the wall and gazed at Rick with the same look he'd given his partner a million times before. His skin had the same lively, olive tone to it. His brown eyes were bright and mischievous, glowing in the hazy evening sunlight. He had a five o'clock shadow on his face, like he normally did, because he hated shaving every day.

At first, Rick thought he had already slipped into a dream. Or a nightmare. But it was too real, too vivid. And Dr. Edwards was still standing there, making his little notes and watching Rick slip into a deep sleep. So it had to be real. The only question: was Shane really there? Could it be his ghost? Or was Rick finally losing his fucking mind, once and for all?

He would've asked. He would've pointed Shane out and said something. But there was no time. No energy. The last thing he could remember before being swallowed up by dark unconsciousness – and the thing that confused him the most – was seeing Shane's mouth move. Hearing his familiar voice, clear as day.

"Damn, partner. That Greene girl really did a number on you, huh?"

He was right there. He was talking to Rick. He looked real enough to touch. And he'd said exactly the kind of thing Rick would expect him to say. In exactly the smart-assed tone he'd expect him to use.

Rick wanted to respond. Reflexively, he wanted to quip, "Yer really one ta talk with that bullet in yer heart."

But sleep overtook him before he could. Everything went black again. And he didn't dream at all. Not even about Shane.

to be continued…

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A/N: So yeah, Ghost!Shane is gonna be a Thing. The idea came to me suddenly and I realized it fit and was fun to write so here we are. Yep, this chapter only laid out MORE questions! :) Don't worry, there's lots more Det. Grimes chapters to come. Yes, that lady in the fuchsia dress was Jenny Jones. But next week will be back to Beth and Daryl's camping trip and seeing what they're up to while Rick is getting used to being awake.
Please let me know what you think! And I'm adding photos to the Most Wanted board on Pinterest almost every day, so check it out if you like.
Oh yeah, and Vegetable Jim is supposed to be Jim from season 1 of the show. You remember, the asshole who saved himself instead of his family and then expected pity when he got himself bit? Yeah. Fuck that guy. In this universe, his whole family is alive and he's gonna be dead lmao. Justice.