HIS WAR WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OVER.
When an accident leaves his older brother in a coma,
Marine Gunnery Sergeant Nathan Grimes
is just weeks from retirement,
ready to hang up the uniform for good.
Then the orders are given.
He's been stop-lossed.
N...
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𝖲𝖢𝖤𝖭𝖤 1.1
The ventilator hissed in and out like some mechanical ghost standing watch over Rick Grimes' broken body.
Beep... beep... beep. The heart monitor kept its rhythm—slow, but steady—offering the only proof Nate had that his brother was still here. Still fighting.
Nate hadn't left the hospital room since the moment he arrived on emergency leave. His boots barely left the linoleum floor, and his jacket stayed slung over the same stiff-backed chair by Rick's bedside. He showered in the hospital's locker room, ate only when Lori forced food into his hands, and slept in thirty-minute shifts with his head resting on the edge of the mattress.
He refused to leave. Not when Rick couldn't.
The bullet had torn through Rick's back just below the shoulder blade. It damaged a lung, bruised his spine. The doctors said it was a miracle he even made it to surgery.
Nate sat hunched forward in the hard chair, elbows on his knees, one hand loosely gripping the edge of the hospital bed sheet. His thumb brushed absently over the seam.
"Come on, man," he said softly, voice hoarse. "I know we like to one-up each other, but don't you think this is a bit much?"
No response. Not even a twitch.
He looked at his brother's face—pale, slack, unfamiliar in its stillness. Tubes and wires ran from Rick's body like invasive roots, anchoring him to life.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Nate pressed his knuckles against his mouth, jaw tight, mind spinning. His thoughts drifted—out of the hospital, away from the sterile air—and back to a different kind of morning.
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𝖲𝖢𝖤𝖭𝖤 1.2
The Grimes Residence King's County, Georgia
"You sure about this?" Nate half-joked. "I could always rent a storage unit nearby. I'll even spring for one with AC—splurge a little, you know?"
Rick scoffed from behind the wheel. "A storage unit?" His tone rode the edge of confusion and amusement. "That your version of a welcome home these days?"
