Because of You | Maggie Greene ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐯.

"Rick, we're going to do everything we can, okay?" Hershel attempted to console. "But you and your friend need to give us some room."

Greyson nodded in understanding, moving when Rick could not. Without a single word, Greyson softly grabbed Rick by the shoulders and began guiding him out of the room, only opting to look back at little Carl for one final time. The young boy looked so tiny and weak compared to the people surrounding him. Greyson wanted nothing more than to stay in the room with Carl, but he needed help—the best help he could get in these trying, terrifying times—and Greyson certainly was not going to deprive him of that by taking up extra space.

As Greyson led Rick out onto the front porch, both of their eyes landed on the sight of Shane and the hunter—now known as Otis—making their way towards the farmhouse. They were both breathless, sweat flying off of them as they approached.

"Is he alive?" Otis demanded hoarsely.

Rick was silent, unable to answer. Instead the shaken man merely reached a hand up to brush away the sweaty curls from his forehead, but as a result of this he only managed to smear his own face with his son's blood. Greyson's heart tightened at the ghostly image, fearful and saddened by how broken his leader had become in only a matter of minutes. Rick was gone. Now, the only voice of reason who remained was a young boy who had not even graduated college.

"He's alive for now," Greyson finally informed.

Shane's expression hid any fear for the future as he carefully approached his sobbing best friend and produced a bandanna from his back pocket. Reaching up with trembling hands, Shane cautiously wiped the blood away from Rick's face.

To give the two men their space, Greyson awkwardly moved back into the house and waited for them to finally regain their composure and return on their own. Once all four of the men were inside, it was no surprise to anyone when Rick hurriedly move back into Carl's room. Greyson automatically followed and to his relief things inside the small bedroom seemed to have calmed down drastically.

Hershel glanced up as the four men made their way back into the bedroom. "You know his blood type?" He asked.

"A-Positive," Rick answered instantly. "Same as mine."

"That's fortunate," The older man replied. "Don't wander far. I'm going to need you." He then glanced towards Otis. "What happened out there?"

Otis could not take his eyes off of Carl, his expression screaming with guilt as he began to tell the horrifying story. "I was tracking a buck," He recounted. "Bullet went through it . . . went clean through."

"Well, the deer slowed the bullet down," Hershel pointed out. "which certainly saved his life. But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out . . . and I'm counting six . . ."

Otis abruptly turned towards Patricia who was quick to pull him into a warm, tight embrace. By the way they closely held each other, it was easy for Greyson to assume that they were a married couple. "I never saw him," The man whispered shamefully to his wife. "Not until he was on the ground."

A sudden gasp filled the room as Rick collapsed back against the far bedroom wall with horror. "Lori doesn't know," He murmured, his eyes filling with tears again as the realization hit him. "My wife doesn't know . . . My wife doesn't know!"

Greyson stared helplessly at Rick, unsure of how to help him when he felt like he, too, was moments from falling apart all on his own. Greyson did not understand his own panic. It was undeserving. It was cruel. Carl was not even Greyson's son. Hell, he was not even Greyson's brother, and the older boy was terrified of losing him. Carl did not deserve to go out like this. All he had ever wanted was to help—to look for Sophia—and now he was fighting for his life with his father on the brink of insanity and his mother completely oblivious to the problem at hand.