I head back to the duplex late that night. Or rather Rick makes me come back. Carl had passed out long ago, but I still sat there, not wanting to move. Scared of what would happen when I wasn't there.

I was nodding off when Rick shook my shoulder. "C'mon, you need to get some rest. He'll be fine," Rick insisted. I groggily stand up and take a final look at Carl. I lean down and press my lips on Carl's forehead, pushing the hair from his eye. Rick guides me back to the duplex and I ask if it's alright if I sleep in Judith's room. My excuse is to keep her company and make sure she's all right, but really she's as close as I'll get to not sleeping alone. Rick says that'd be great and we split ways as I head to my room so I can shower before bed and Rick heads back to the infirmary. I'm glad someone will be watching over Carl.

I grab some pajamas, which is really just long pajama pants and a t-shirt. I turn on the shower water, giving it some time to warm up while I brush my teeth. After I'm done, I step into the shower and begin rinsing off. I really do like showers, in a strange way, they remind me of the old world. The warm spray of shower water is a reminder that I'm finally alone. Well and truly alone. No one to see me, no one to judge me. No one I can hurt.

I lose it.

Tears start streaming down my cheeks. All the emotions that I'd - for the most part- contained all day, now flood out. It's probably dumb and pointless to cry. They said he'd be alright. They said he would! Over and over, but it still lingers in my mind. This is the apocalypse. Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. It's just what we've learned to accept. People die. That's part of it too. He could die. Something could go wrong, his stitches could get infected and die. What if the bullet took out a chunk of his brain? What would he lose? Has he already lost it?

Calm down. I command myself. You have to believe.

So I take in a few deep breaths and try and relax some. Tears continue to drip from my cheeks. But there's less of them, and soon it becomes hard to tell what's tears and what's shower water dripping down my face.

I'm in the middle of rinsing the shampoo out of my hair when it hits me hard. A headache. Goddamn, it's a doozy too. Needles push into my skull and at the same time it feels like my brain is expanding. Pushing the limits of my skull. I cower on the shower floor, my eyes tightly squinted shut, the constant spray of water patters against my back and my head. The normally comforting pulse makes the headache worse. My chest heaves, trying to take in more air. I force my eyes open just long enough to turn off the water. The violent pang in my head refuses to budge and my head is clasped tightly between my hands. My fingers twist into my dripping hair, I pull at my hair, trying to distract myself from the pain. No. That only makes it worse.

I need Advil or aspirin, or something. Some kind of pain reliever. I don't have any here, or in the bathroom at least. Where? Where would it be?

How am I supposed to get out of here? I can't just lie on the shower floor forever.

I could scream for help.

What good would that do? Rick's probably halfway back to the infirmary by now. And I don't even know if Beth, Daryl, or Michonne could hear me through these walls. Judith would be of no help. At best I'd traumatize the poor child.

The thinking physically hurts me. It makes the headache worse.

But I can't get up, so I settle to shut my mind down and lie in the fetal position on my side until enough pain subsides to move.

Several times I try and at least sit up, but thick waves of nausea consume me, so I stay lying down, a meek effort to keep my dinner down.

Time ticks by at a snail's pace, but probably halfway to sun rise, the pain ebbs enough for me to throw on my pajamas and walk to Judith's room, crawl under the covers waiting for my body to be condemned to sleep.

"Sam! Sam!" Judith squeals in my ear sometime later. I'm instantly stirred from sleep, Judith's standing by my bed, past her sunlight streams in through a window. I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to adjust to the light. My headache is mostly gone, in any case, it's a vast improvement from last night. I let out a yawn and prop my head against my palm.
"Hey kiddo, how are you this morning?" I force a smile, trying to get back into a kid friendly mood.

"Good!" she beams excitedly, "Can we see Cawl today?"

It hits me hard again, everything that happened yesterday. I put on a brave face, acting like her words didn't send me reeling down a dark road of anguish, "I don't know yet Judy, we'll just have to see." I doubt it'll be today. I also doubt it'll be tomorrow.

"Can we play today?" her big green eyes look up at me with hope.

I give her a sad look, "I have to go do a job to do. And you have friends to play with, remember?" I smile and poke her in the stomach, "But once I'm done, we can definitely play. We can play all you want." I promise.

"Okey!" she beams happily up at me. I sit up and push myself off the bed.

"Time to get you dressed big girl," I take her little hand and we walk over to her dresser. I find a little cotton dress that's baby blue with clouds on it. I help her get dressed, including her little shoes, and brush out her hair. Then we go over to my room, so I can get dressed. I help her sit on my bed and tell her to stay put, I hand her a comic book and tell her to be very careful with it. I stress the very. The last thing I need to explain to Carl is I gave his little sister one of his prized comic books and she annihilated it.

I quickly grab some clothes and change as fast as humanly possible. I put on my white washed jeans and my old dark green t-shirt. I tie my hair back into a ponytail and then I figure I'm ready to go. I emerge from the bathroom and Judith is surprisingly sitting very calmly, flipping the pages of the comic book, looking at all the pictures.

"Judith!" I praise her, "You're acting like such a big girl. Thank you for being so good while I got ready."

She grins happily at me, looking up from her 'reading'.

"Let's go eat!" she puts down the comic book and pushes herself off the bed, she walks over to me, taking my hand and we walk to breakfast.

Rick's not there again, which is unfortunately expected. It means he's either sleeping, or with Carl. I would much prefer the latter frankly. So Judith and I get our usual oatmeal and I make sure she eats it all, all while not getting a lot of it all over dress. I achieve a success for the most part, with only one drip of oatmeal landing in her lap. After breakfast, I drop Judith off at Paula's. My heart wants to go to the infirmary to at least check on Carl, but my head knows I have to report for kitchen cleaning duty.

I grit my teeth and force myself to walk back to the pavilion. As much as I'd like it, they won't let me take a day of to be with Carl, everyone has a job to do. The world doesn't stop turning when one person gets shot. So I'll just have to suck it up and see him whenever I get off.

Whenever I reached the pavilion, everyone except for the clean-up crew has cleared the pavilion and gone off to do whatever job they occupy themselves with during the day. I help carry the large pots back to the cooking house. Really, it's Olivia's house. She's a red-headed woman that's probably 35 or so, she's fortunate enough to have more than enough meat on her bones, and I guess her good cooking shows. She's the main cook around here, and truly very kind and cheerful. She must have not spent a lot of time out in the real world. Probably jumped from sanctuary to sanctuary until she found this place. At least, that's my guess. Although I grew out of my shyness around my group, I still tend to keep on the quieter side around the Alexandria residents. I don't know too much about these people.

Most of the rest of the clean-up crew are also cooks and help out Olivia. After all, making oatmeal for 60 is not a one-woman job. Once we bring everything back from the pavilion, the dirty work begins. I help wash dishes with a girl named Annie. She's probably about my age. She talks a lot, probably what girls my age are supposed to do. I tend to just nod, trying to get my job done. Sometimes, she asks me questions, and I answer them in as few words as possible, or if fitting, I nod or shake my head. I don't mean to be anti-social, I'm just not comfortable with these people. Not to mention I've still got an ever-present headache, which she only seems to amplify. Talking would only make that worse. But it's ok, Annie makes up for my lack of talking. She just goes on and on about whatever news or gossip or personal back story she can think of.

"Weren't you in that group that went on the run yesterday?" she changes the subject from her dead ex-boyfriend.

"Yeah," I scrub a bowl

I hand Annie the bowl so she can dry it, she takes it from me and continues, "So you know the kid that got shot right?"

My throat tightens and I nod, I increase the pressure on the plate I'm washing. Keep it together, keep it together.

"He came with your group, what was his name again? Earl? Charles? Jarl?"

"Carl! It's Carl!" I snap, losing hold on my temper. How the hell would she confuse the name Carl like that?

Annie looks at me wide eyed, she then quickly turns around like nothing happened, "Right, Carl. Didn't he get shot in the face?"

Can't you just shut your damn mouth?

My actions are stiff as I pass her the plate, "Yes."

Annie continues to be oblivious or otherwise blind to my discomfort, "I think he's gonna die. I mean he did get shot in the face, what do you think?"

I throw my sponge into the sink, fed up, I turn to her, "I think you should shut the hell up. That's my boyfriend you're talking about." bitch, I silently add. I think that's the most I've ever said to Annie in one answer.

"Oh," is all she says, before awkwardly coughing and going back to work.

The rest of our work is silent, and the good thing about this job is that after all the clean-up for breakfast is done, I'm free for the rest of the day.

After Olivia releases me, I walk straight to the infirmary. I would rather run, but I'm done making scenes for the day, it's a mortifying business.

On my way, Sasha stops me, "Hey, I forgot to give you this, I grabbed it before we got out of there yesterday. Figured you, or Carl, would probably want." She gives me a friendly smile and hands me the object, "I'm so sorry about what happened yesterday. How's he doing?"

I draw my lips to a tight line, trying to mask my emotion, "Good," I swallow roughly, "I was just heading there now actually."

"Ah," she nods, "I'd join you but I've got to make a quick run out to pick up the supplies we left yesterday. Sorry."

I shrug, "It's fine. Your condolences are enough." And I walk away.

Before I walk in to the infirmary, I pause. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, still convincing myself that's he's gonna be ok, that he is ok.

I push through the entrance and head straight to Carl's room. He's alone except for the nurse that's re-hooking up an I.V. for him. He's sleeping, head is tilted away from me, so I can only see the bandaged side of his face.

I look anxiously at the nurse, and she gives me a friendly smile, "He's doing just fine, I replaced the bandages and made sure everything was nice and clean. You can sit with him if you want. He should wake up soon."

I let out a sigh of relief and thank her, I sit in my usual spot, resting the object Sasha gave me on the floor beside me, and prop my elbow on the arm of the chair, cheek resting on the knuckles of my closed fist.

I sit like that for a while, he at least looks peaceful when he sleeps, like nothing is wrong. I'm finally stirred from my half-trance when the nurse comes in with Carl's lunch, he still hasn't woken up. Once the nurse leaves, I start to doze, I didn't get but a couple hours of sleep last night.

I wake up a little while later and he's still out, or maybe he woke up while I was sleeping and I missed it. I pull my lips to a thin line and let out a sigh. One of his hands is lying near the edge and I pick it up, his normally warm hand is cold to the touch. For a moment I'm caught off guard, then I watch the steady rise and fall of his chest and I'm better.

About ten, fifteen minutes later, he wakes up. His waking slow and his eye is sluggish to blink as he turns his head around, remembering why he's here. It takes a moment for his bright blue eye to find me, but once it does it stays there.

"You're awake," I can't help but smile.

"Yeah," he blinks slowly again. I think he's coming off the meds some, because he looks a little less foggy eyed and he grimaces when he moves. He tries to sit up with a grunt, and I help him, propping up pillows.

"Hey, don't push yourself ok?" I look at him dead in the eye, "Let me help you. For once." I tease at the end. Carl starts to reach over for his lunch tray that the nurse left, but I stop him with a warning look. He lets out a begrudging sigh and goes back to his original position as I stand up, walk over to the other side of the bed, pick up the tray and set it in his lap.

"What? Are you gonna feed me too?" he rolls his eyes

I lift my eyebrows at him, "Don't test me Grimes."

He lifts the spoon and eats the leftover oatmeal. He's slow and his hand shakes at first, but he gets better quickly.

It's good to see him a little more normal, eating, sitting up. It's not much, but it's definitely more reassuring than any words a doctor or nurse could provide.

I sit back down in my chair and pull it a little closer, leaning on the bed, watching him eat. God that sounds creepy.

"You want some?" he offers

I shake my head, grinning slightly, "You're as bad as your sister."

"Is that a yes?" he turns the spoon towards me. I shake my head.

"I've eaten," my stomach grumbles in protest. Ok, it wasn't lunch, but that is his food.

He swallows his final bite and sets down the spoon, "How's Judy?" his eye tells it all. Even when he's been horribly wounded, his concerns are on that of others.

I nod, "Good, she's good. She misses you. I mean, it's only been half a day since you asked. Not much has changed since you last asked." with her.

"What about you?" he presses, "Are you ok? Have you been having headaches?"

I shake my head, "I'm fine. Everyone is fine, Carl. Honestly, you should worry more about yourself."

He frowns, "You didn't answer my question."

"Pardon?" I tilt my head.

"I asked if you've been having headaches. You didn't answer." his eyebrows knit together, or at least one of them tries. The other is covered by the bandaging.

"I'm fine." I insist, "How about you? How are you feeling?"

"Felt better, but I'm ok." he grimaces, obviously not wanting to move past this one point.

"I'm done talking about it Carl." I say plainly, indicating we're not talking about my health any longer, "Seriously, I'm fine, you haven't a thing to worry about." I lie through my teeth. He should be thinking about other things, if I told him the truth then he'd worry more. I don't want him to deal with that kind of stress.

He reaches over, a pained look tugs at his face, I lean closer so it's easier for him, he runs his fingers into my hair and rests his palm against my temple, "Well it's not like I have anything better to do, being stuck here and all."

I rest my hand on top of his, "If I brought you something better to do, would you stop worrying?"

"Maybe," he shrugs

I curl my fingers between his rough, callused ones, "I'll bring you some comic books next time I visit." I shift my position slightly, straightening my back some.

"You aren't leaving are you?" he instantly looks more worried, and I'm taken aback.

"No, no. I'll stay if you want me to," I promise instantly.

"Good," he nods, letting out a sigh of relief.

Not that I don't like it, but why does he want me here so badly? Maybe it's the meds talking, I mean they must be pumping more into him, right?

"Carl, are you sure everything is alright?" I lean my head against our intertwined hands.

"Yeah, it's just tough being stuck here. I'd like to be able to stay awake for more than just a few hours at a time, and all these tubes stuck in me feel ridiculous." He glares at his I.V. in particular.

I lean up and kiss his forehead, "I'm sorry sheriff, looks like someone else is gonna have to keep the town safe for a while."

A thought sparks in my head as I remember, "Speaking of sheriff, I have something I think you'll find you're missing." I reach down beside my chair on the floor and pick up the object.

As soon as he sees it, his face lights up, "My hat."