Everything was going to shit.

Crimson flooded his vision as he, you, and Carl made your escape from the prison. Days of fresh vegetables, slaughtering walkers from behind secure fences, and doing chores with friends was over.

He’d known it was too good to last long. So did you. But neither of you thought it would end this badly, especially not at the Governor’s hand. But that was how it always ended, didn’t it? Loose ends coming back to bite worse than walkers ever could.

Now you’re in an old neighborhood, hiding out in an abandoned home. Carl’s pissed at him; blames him for the death of his sister and mother and everyone else you’d all lost. Meanwhile Rick can barely stand, dealing with the physical effects of his and the Governor’s fight back at the prison.

Carl’s upstairs checking for walkers. You sit with Rick on the ratty old couch, taking his ripped and blood-covered shirt off for him and doing your best to tend his wounds with what you have.

He hisses as you press your hand to his abdomen, the slightest bit of pressure causing him monumental pain. The fact that he’s breathing is all you care about.

He grabs at your wrist for a shaking hand, his grip only lasting a moment before he releases it and lays back against the couch. He’s still in pain, of course, but he can’t argue you. Not when you’re one out of two of the only things he has left.

“Do it, just…just get it over with…”

The fact that you’re still breathing…it’s what gives him the strength to.