he got you into this mess ― an unconscious body laying on top of a dissection table, ready to be picked apart for whatever cure these people were hoping to find. Rick had promised you that it would never come to this, that he would always choose your life first, no matter the possibility of saving thousands with your blood.

but these people were good at sweet-talking him into trusting them, too. they promised to only take as much as they needed to finish their research about your immunity, and a possible cure. Rick was so easily letting you stay at their little building, hidden underground to ensure secrecy.

only weeks later did he realize that they were really taking much more than your body could handle. you were frail ― a blood bank, used to ensure anyone's survival but yours.

"hey, sweetheart," Rick tried to keep his voice steady, soft calloused hands brushing over your head to wake you up ― to see that you were alive. he came to safe you after all..., with a gun and a will to bring you far away from this madness. back home, where you belonged.