This is my first FF and I'm very excited/nervous about it! I've always loved writing and after reading countless stories, I've decided I would like to contribute. Just so you are not confused, I'm starting at the end of Season 3. Reviews are greatly appreciated as it will probably take some feedback to keep me going. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Enjoy!

Rick Grimes hated making supply runs. It reminded him of the days when Lori used to forget something while grocery shopping and he would have to go to the store every other day after work to make up for it. Except now, he had to fight the living dead just for a box of stale crackers. With the group from Woodbury joining them at the prison, supply runs were becoming more frequent and somewhat of a nuisance. He had to accept though that he had brought them in. He made his bed, now he had to lie in it. If only it were that easy.

Today, he, Daryl and Michonne were raiding a small town south of the prison. They had already scavenged in the other three directions, so this was their last hope before needing to spread out further. The thought always made him uncomfortable as those trips never went well.

Luckily, there weren't many walkers to contend with today. Michonne had decided to search an insurance office, which Rick found pointless until she strode out carrying a ridiculous amount of coffee, dried creamer and sugar packets. She immediately went up a few notches in his book. Coffee was a rare pleasure nowadays. Daryl had taken to a convenience store across the street. The ones that weren't heavily raided by now generally held a broad range of items. That left Rick with the town pharmacy. Medical supplies had always been important, but the Woodbury group had consisted of quite a few elderly people that needed special prescriptions. To be honest, he was surprised they had survived this long with what little they had.

As he approached the pharmacy, his hand lingered on the butt of his Colt Python. He carefully scanned both sides of the street and then shielded his eyes to peek through the large glass windows. Nothing was moving inside, but that didn't really mean much. Once a walker got stuck in a building it tended to just sit and wait for it's dinner to show up.

He carefully turned the knob and was grateful that the door bell was no longer functioning. Most pharmacies had switched to an electric 'ding' and that turned out to be a good alternative to the bell on a string. Those made him feel like he was literally ringing a dinner bell for the walkers.

The store was generally in tact and no immediate threats presented themselves to him. He started down the first aisle, his boots making soft thuds on the thin Berber carpet. As he rounded the corner to approach the front counter, his gaze fell upon a small trail of blood. It wound it's way down one aisle and then smeared in a trail to disappear behind the counter.

Blood was a normal sight while scavenging, but this looked fresh. Rick pulled out his Colt and stepped cautiously to look behind the counter, only to stare down the barrel of a Glock. A woman who looked to be in her late twenties was huddled in the corner, a pool of dried blood beneath her left leg. Somehow he knew it was a gunshot. Cop instincts, or whatever. She looked tired and scared.

"Don't come any closer," she muttered.

Her gun shook and it appeared that she was having a hard time holding it up. If he had meant her any harm, he could have easily overpowered her.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'll put my gun away. Okay...?" Rick stated in a low voice, as he tucked his Colt into its holster and held up his free hand.

"Are you here to finish the job?" She spat bitterly. Her gun didn't move.

Rick shook his head. "Me and my people didn't do this to you. I would like to help you, if you'll let me," he said as calmly as possible.

She hesitated, her eyes judging. "You say 'people'? What kind of people?"

"Right now it's myself, Daryl and Michonne. We live at the prison north of here with a large group of men, women and children. I'll get Michonne for you if it would make you more comfortable."

She let out a shaky breath. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because if I had wanted to hurt you, I would've done so by now."

Rick could almost hear the gears turning in her head. He used that moment to take in her appearance. She was younger than him, but definitely older than Maggie. Her wavy blonde hair was dirty and matted, her eyes brown. It was hard to tell how tall she was from where she sat, but she looked to be at least 5' 5". Her plaid button up shirt and dark jeans were also dirty and hung loosely from her small frame. That was pretty normal for anyone at this point. Food may have been in short supply, but cardio certainly wasn't.

He watched as she slowly lowered her gun and shifted uncomfortably. She proceeded to grab a hold of the counter and stand up. She placed her weight dominantly on her right leg, but he could see that she was weak and wouldn't stay up for long.

Right as her legs buckled, Rick rushed forward to keep her from falling. His hands scooped under her armpits and held her body close to his. She stiffened out of fear, but he reassured her again that he only wanted to help. Rick watched as she tried to take a step, but collapsed again in his arms.

"What's your name?" He asked, still supporting her.

"Lindsey."

"It's nice to meet you, Lindsey. I'm Rick. Now, how about we get out of here?" He gave her a warm smile.

She nodded and reached for her backpack. He got to it first, his other arm still wrapped around her tiny waist. He threw the pack over his shoulder and then motioned that he was going to pick her up. She nodded reluctantly and wound her arms around his neck. He let out a small grunt as he picked her up and balanced her weight between his arms.

As he carried her out of the pharmacy, he couldn't help but think how the group would react to him bringing back another mouth to feed.