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Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

“What’s the difference between men and women?” Rick asked, passing a napkin to Shane.

“This a joke?”

“No, serious.”

Rick took some french fries, dipping them in ketchup as he listened to Shane. 

“I never met a woman who knew how to turn off a light. They're born thinking in a switch, it only goes one way, “On”. They’re struck blind the second they leave a room. I mean every woman, I ever let have a key... I swear to God. Come home, house all lit up, and my job, apparently, because... because my chromosomes happen to be different cause I then gotta walk through that house, turn off every single light this chick left on.”

He kept on ranting and Rick listened, though he felt off, like there was something itching in his mind aside from just the marriage problems. 

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, baby. Hm. Alright, Reverend Shane's preaching to you now, boy-”

It hit Rick in waves. The fear, pain, screams, blood. 

Shane, Lori, Carl - they were all dead. Dale, Andrea, Hershel, Abraham, Glenn, so many dead. 

The walkers…

Daryl, his brother, far more than Shane ever was. Michonne, who supported him through much more than he and Lori had ever gone through. Judith, his baby girl, not Shane's. 

Everything.

Every second, every heartbreak, every battle, every moment of shattered hope, it all flooded back to him. 

Rick couldn’t breathe, his hand gripping the car door, trying to get a grasp of everything in his head as well. He had gone through worse, but the feeling of everything was up there-

Shane screamed, a raw sound. 

Rick turned to him, calm on the outside but watchful, ready, his eyes following Shane's each move. 

Shane was wide-eyed, sweating, looking at Rick like he had seen a ghost. Then, his face twisted with rage, his hand going to his service weapon, yanking it out and pressing the muzzle to Rick's forehead. 

Rick wasn't worried, though. He had known Shane his entire life. No matter how much the man acted tough, he hadn't had the guts to kill Rick on that field. Even if Shane acted like he was the kind of man who would gun down his best friend, it had been Rick all along. 

Not that Shane was good by any means, or stable. But who was?

“You son of a bitch,” Shane said, keeping him at gunpoint. Rick met the challenge head-on, not flinching. “You took everything from me, Rick.”

Shane's hand was trembling, his eyes all over the place. Rick took a deep breath. 

“Look at me,” he said, steady. Shane did, clearly listening to Rick even if he seemed outwardly deranged. “I’d do it again if it meant protecting them.”

Silence.

“I told you I would stay alive to keep them alive. And I did, as long as I could,” Rick continued. “I had to do far worse than taking everything from you. And I would do it again.”

Shane’s jaw flexed. “You always thought you were better than me- always thought you knew what was right. Without you, I could’ve had it all. Lori, Carl, the baby. You stole that from me.”

Rick smiled bitterly. He hadn't been able to protect Carl and Lori, but at least Judith had lived. 

“I kept them alive as long as I could. I was there for my baby, and you weren't - because you forced my hand. Don't do it again.” Rick stated. “You? You were already gone, Shane, long before I stabbed you in the chest.”

Shane’s finger twitched on the trigger, just once, then he let out a harsh breath, lowered the gun, and kicked the door open. His boots met the road as he stormed away from the car, fists clenched, muttering something Rick couldn’t quite make out.

Rick didn’t stop him. He didn't have to - Shane was going to be back, one way or another. The pain they remembered wasn’t something you could walk off, and knowing the man his best friend had become, he was bound to go look for Lori or Carl. 

Rick looked down at his hands. Clean - no blood, not yet. 

He hadn't become any better than Shane, in the end. Probably worse. He truly would've done anything for his family, he had already done so much. Ripping out throats with his teeth, gunning down disarmed men, he understood where Shane had been coming from back then. He had just been too reckless, too unwilling to listen to any sense-

The radio crackled to life, same as it had that same day years ago. “All available units, high speed pursuit in progress, Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 south GTAAD W217 243. Proceed with extreme caution.”

Rick didn’t reach for the mic right away.

Because now, everything was different - and he was alive. A few weeks before the outbreak, he wasn't going to waste his chance by getting shot. 

If he remembered, and Shane remembered, then maybe the rest of his family did too. Daryl, Michonne, Carol, Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Carl-

His breath hitched. The last time he saw his son, he died - but if that future wasn’t set in stone anymore? Rick was going to take full advantage of it.

He reached for the radio.

“Dispatch, this is Deputy Grimes. Officer Walsh just stormed off, I don't believe we are capable of assisting at this time.”

His voice was steady and he already felt himself filling with determination. He was going to change it all, bit by bit, and ensure everyone he cared for lived. 

Everyone. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

The woods were still, silent, but Daryl knew there was an animal lurking in a tree nearby. He crouched low, his crossbow raised, eyes sharp as a razor, focusing on nothing but the hunt. 

A squirrel, tail twitching against branches. Daryl aimed, steadying his arms, then fired-

It felt like he had fired the arrow to his own head. 

Merle, the prison falling. Beth, with a hole in her forehead. Glenn’s head bashed to bits, Easy Street. Rick. 

Daryl stumbled back, nearly dropping his beloved crossbow on the leaf-covered round. Only his survival instincts kept him from doing just that, reminding him of how valuable the damn bow had been during the outbreak. The outbreak. 

“Ain’t no damn way,” he breathed out, but the air itself felt wrong. 

Daryl knew the forest he was at by heart - he had hunted there for years and years before the dead decided to get up and start walking. He instinctively remembered each tree, each path he usually took, but he had never felt so much of a stranger there. 

The last time he had been in the forest behind the shack he and Merle used to stay at was before . 

Because Daryl knew their importance, he quickly retrieved his arrow from the squirrel he had shot between the eyes, then rushed off to find Merle, figure out the exact date. If he was lucky, Rick hadn’t yet been shot. And if that was the case, Daryl was damned before he let any son of a bitch prevent him from protecting his brother, his leader, his friend, again. 

Daryl ran, branches snapping under his feet, not caring about the sound like he usually would’ve. The shack was exactly as Daryl remembered it - peeling paint, beer cans scattered like breadcrumbs and the stink of stale smoke clinging to the air. He pushed the door open hard enough to make it slam against the wall.

Merle was at the table, cleaning his pistol with a hangover squint in his eyes. One look at Daryl and he froze, mouth twitching.

“Jesus, you look like you seen a ghost,” Merle muttered. “Or caught one o’ them feelings you hate so much.”

Daryl didn’t smile. He stalked forward, eyes locked on his brother.

“You remember?”

Merle narrowed his eyes. “You talkin’ ‘bout that acid trip of a dream I just had? The walkers? All that bull?”

“It ain’t a dream.” Daryl stood over him, voice low but hard. “You remember everything. Same as me. Don’t lie.”

Merle didn’t answer at first. He just looked down at the pistol, then back up at his baby brother. “You serious?”

Daryl didn’t need to say anything, he knew Merle could tell he was different just from the way he was acting. There was a long pause, then Merle leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “Well, we’ll be damned. At least I ain’t cripple here, now.”

Daryl sat down across from him, elbows on the table, leaning in close. “We got a chance here, Merle. A real one. To change it. All that shit we went through - it ain’t happened yet.”

Merle snorted. “You mean all that time I got chained to a damn roof like some rabid dog? Yeah, I remember that part real clear. By your darling Officer Friendly. ”

“Cause you were actin’ like one,” Daryl snapped. “You messed it all up. Every time. You pissed on every good thing we, I had.”

Merle raised an eyebrow. “So this what this is? Little brother talkin’ sense into me? Come on, Daryl. You forget who raised you? And you’d betray me for a pig like your sheriff, even if he became cold as ice.”

Daryl’s voice dropped. “Rick ain’t just some cop. He’s family. He fought for us - all of us. Every damn day. And he paid for it.”

Merle laughed. “Family? Hell, Officer Friendly ain’t never done nothin’ but use you like a bloodhound with a pretty face.”

Daryl stood. Fast. Chair scraping across the floor. He had to restrain himself from punching the asshole - he had forgotten how infuriating Merle could be.

“No. He believed in me when nobody else did. Not even you.”

Silence settled like dust.

Merle blinked, then shrugged with a half-smirk. “Well, look at you. Grown a spine along with those fancy memories, Darlina.”

Daryl didn’t back down. “I’m tellin’ you now, Merle. We’re doin’ it different. You get clean. You stay clean. You shut your damn mouth and follow Rick’s lead.”

Merle stood now too, toe to toe with his brother. “You tellin’ me what to do now?”

Daryl leaned in, voice quiet and cold. “I’m tellin’ you I ain’t lettin’ you drag me down again. Not this time. You wanna come with me, you act right, don’t mess with my family, with Rick . Or you stay here, rot in this shack, and watch the world burn like before. But I know there’s something in you that can do that, otherwise you wouldn’t have been gunned down by that bastard the last time.”

Merle held his stare for a long, heavy beat.

Then he cracked a grin. “Well, hell. Didn’t know you were so hot for Officer Friendly.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Make your jokes.”

Merle’s smile faded, just a little. “You really think you can change it?”

Daryl nodded once. “I don’t think. I know. Maybe not me, but Rick can. If he remembers, he will .”

Another pause. Then Merle picked up the pistol, checked the chamber, and slid it into his waistband.

“Well,” he said, grabbing his jacket, “guess we better go find your boyfriend.”

Daryl gave him a sharp look.

Merle just grinned. “What? I’m comin’. Ain’t lettin’ you hog all the apocalypse fun again.”

Daryl opened the door and stepped out into the morning light. “This time, we do it right.”

Merle followed, muttering under his breath. “Right. Rick’s way.”

Daryl didn't look back. “Damn right.”

-

The smell of burned cookies hit Carol first. 

She raised her head from the wooden dinner table, her eyes moving from the faded wallpaper to the sunlight coming through their yellow curtains. She could hear a lawnmower outside, a dog barking in her neighbour’s yard. It was a scene that felt so distant, yet so familiar. 

No walkers, no blood, no weapons carried around. Her hands were softer, hair short.

Carol knew where she was, and when. She rose quietly from her chair, walking towards her daughter’s room. Only when she opened the did she allow herself to breathe. 

There, under a pink blanket, wearing her blue pajamas, was Carol’s daughter. Alive, safe. 

“Sophia,” Carol said, voice cracking, taking hesitant steps. Her big, brown eyes opened, filled with recognition. 

“Momma…?” Her voice trembled. “Is it real?”

Carol was already at her side, pulling her into her arms. “It’s real, baby. It’s real. You’re alive.”

For all the evil Carol had done in her life after Sophia, she didn’t feel any less soft when met with her whimpers. She clung to her like she was drowning. 

“I remember. I remember the forest. And... and the dark. I died, I died, I’m sorry I didn’t follow Mr. Grimes’ instructions, I died-”

Carol rocked her gently, tears sliding down her cheeks. “Shhh, it’s over. I got you. I got you now, and I’m not lettin’ go. Nothing will ever hurt you again. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

They stayed like that for a moment, then Carol pulled back, sharp focus in her eyes. She couldn’t let herself become too distracted, not when she knew what was at stake. 

“We’re leavin’. Today. Right now.”

Sophia blinked. “What about Dad?”

Carol didn’t answer. She was already moving, grabbing the duffel bag from the closet and stuffing it with essentials - clothes, canned food, knives from the kitchen, Ed’s handgun, cash - for the few weeks they still had when it had any value. She moved quickly, efficiently, having cleared dozens of houses of their supplies during the outbreak. 

“We find Rick, we make a plan. He’s supposed to be the leader, so everyone else will be going to him, too. Daryl, most definitely. And we need to be with them, dear. With our family.”

Sophia hovered near the door, pale and shaky. “Will the dead come back again?”

Carol zipped up the bag. “They will. But not for a while. We’re gonna get a head start this time-”

A loud slam echoed from the front door. Both Carol and Sophia froze.

Heavy footsteps, keys jangling. A familiar grunt.

Ed. 

Carol’s body moved before her mind caught up.

“Carol! You come out, now. We need to talk.”

She tucked the bag behind the couch, grabbed a small knife for herself and stepped between Sophia and the hallway just as Ed stumbled into the living room, reeking of beer and fried food.

“That bastard Walsh beat me so I couldn’t even defend myself against the rotten bastards. This time, woman, we will not stand for that. I will find that bastard and put a bullet in his head myself!”

Carol didn’t speak, just stared at the piece of filth she used to call her husband. 

Ed frowned, eyes narrowing. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

Then he took a step toward her.

And Carol snapped.

Carol swung the knife in her hand hard into Ed’s temple, just like she had done with walkers a million times before. The sound was sickening, a wet crack followed by a grunt as Ed crumpled to the floor like a sack of meat.

Sophia screamed.

“Stay there!” Carol barked, her voice like iron. She knelt beside Ed. He was still breathing, barely. One eye twitching.

She didn’t hesitate.

She raised the knife and brought it down again. And again.

And then it was quiet.

Carol stood over his body, chest heaving. Her hands weren’t shaking, her eyes were clear, and she knew exactly what she had to do.

She walked to the kitchen phone and dialed 911.

Her voice trembled - not from fear, but perfectly measured panic. She sank into the role of the meek woman she used in Alexandria, the person she used to be before everything

.

“Yes, I… I just - my husband, he came home drunk and he- he was gonna hurt me again, and I can take it, I can, but this time he threatened to hurt my daughter, too- I think I killed him.”

Tears welled in her eyes on command. She sniffled.

“Yes… yes, I’ll stay on the line. Please hurry.”

She placed the phone on the table after the dispatcher assured help was on the way, taking a few steps back so her words wouldn’t be heard. Carol turned to Sophia.

“You okay, baby?”

Sophia nodded, still wide-eyed. “You killed him.”

Carol crouched down, brushed the hair from her daughter’s face. “I saved us.”

She stood, walked back to the bag, and pulled it out into the light.

“They’ll take me in for a while. Maybe a day or two. But I know what to say, and I’ll be back before the dead rise. They will want to take you in, too - I will tell them Rick is a family friend, that he should take you instead, and I want you to go with him if that happens. Everything is going to be alright.”

Sophia’s lip quivered. “Promise?”

Carol smiled. 

“I swear,” she said. “This time, you don’t run. Not from me. Not ever.”

Sophia nodded, and Carol hugged her again - tighter this time.

Through the open window, sirens wailed in the distance. Carol didn’t even look back at Ed’s body - she’d buried that part of her a long time ago.

-

The pizza box slid off the passenger seat and hit the floor just as Glenn swerved to avoid rear-ending a minivan.

“Sh-!”

Tires screeched, in sync with his mind.

Glenn Rhee pulled over, heart hammering in his chest, hands shaking on the wheel. He sat in stunned silence, passerbys looking at him weirdly, but Glenn didn’t notice.

He was too busy trying to breathe - because it had all come back. Not a dream, memories, and he knew they were real. Like his brain had been force-fed the grossest pizza on the delivery menu, served with a major dose of heartbreak, in a single second.

Negan. The bat, Lucille . The snap of bone. The pop of his own eye, the pain. The look on Maggie’s face. 

Maggie. Their unborn child. His hands trembled harder.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, clutching the steering wheel like it was the only solid thing left in the world. “This isn’t right. This can’t be right.”

But it was. He knew this street. Knew that stupid high school kid’s voice over the phone an hour ago, a pepperoni pizza and tipping two bucks. Knew the exact price of gas at the corner station.

It was then , before everything.

“Okay,” he breathed, fingers twitching against the wheel, trying to clear his mind. “Okay. Think.”

It was August 17th. He’d only met Rick a couple weeks after the outbreak, because he had been shot before it. The outbreak had started in late August, in just a few weeks, and Glenn had no idea if the man was already lying in a coma. 

Glenn had met Maggie later, at the farm. Thinking of Maggie hurt - the last thing he remembered was falling to his knees in the dirt, blood on his face, trying to keep his eye open long enough to see her face - she was his rock, someone he could rely on. 

“Maggie,” he whispered. “I have to find her.”

Like he promised.

He floored the gas without a second thought, tires squealing as he pulled a sharp U-turn and sped through traffic, red lights be damned. He needed to find the Greene farm, because she was out there, alive . Laughing that bright, crooked laugh. Maybe still tending horses or picking beans or whatever she’d been doing before the world broke. Glenn, in his own way, hoped that she didn’t remember all the pain she had been through.

The pizza place was already trying to call his phone. He ignored it. That life? It was over. He was never going back to dumb jokes with the other delivery guys.

He took a shaky breath, finally slowing the car just enough to make a turn onto the freeway. He saw the pizza box still open on the floor, cheese melting in the August heat.

He laughed. It was wild, shaky, almost manic.

“Sorry, Denis,” he muttered, the name on the receipt. “Hope you’re not too hungry.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

On his way rushing to Carl’s school, Rick got a call from the school secretary.

“Mr. Grimes, Carl had… some kind of a panic attack. He kept repeating that he’s dead, and asking for you, for a person called Michonne and Judith.”

Rick had already been on his way, but he did speed a bit more with the knowledge that his son, his Carl, was waiting for him. His strong, darling, alive son. And though driving a police car above the speed limit was probably frowned upon, Rick had done things in his life that were far more despicable. 

Carl’s school came into view - kids playing on the playground like the world wasn’t ending in a matter of weeks, some pointing at the police cruiser approaching. Rick parked the vehicle quickly, barely paying attention as he jumped out, slamming the door behind him. 

Rick tried not to look suspicious as he rushed through the hallways, thankful for his uniform despite feeling so alien in it. He barely restrained himself from kicking the door to the secretary’s office open, instead knocking on it, pacing agitatedly until it opened. 

The ever-smiley school secretary held out her hand to greet him, but it seemed like the words caught in her throat when she saw the look on his face. While he looked the part of Officer Friendly, he knew there must’ve been something in his eyes that told a story of brutal violence, the secretary’s hand falling back to her side. 

“Where’s my son?” he said, a tad too gruffly. 

Before she could answer, a soft voice called from behind her.

“Dad?”

Rick pushed past the secretary, not caring if she got bumped against the doorframe - and there he was.

Carl.

Small again. Hair short, eyes wide and wet and full of years he hadn’t lived yet.

Rick’s breath caught. His whole body locked in place.

Carl stepped forward, trembling.

“I thought you’d be shot, again,” he whispered.

Rick crossed the room in two long strides and fell to his knees, arms wrapping around his son so tight he thought he’d never let go again, both of them falling to the floor, reminiscent of the time they reunited after Rick’s coma. He presses Carl’s head to his chest and his face to his son’s hair, reassuring himself that his baby is alive. 

“I was, then,” Rick whispered. “And so were you. But not anymore.”

Carl broke, burying his face in his father’s shoulder. Rick held him, one hand curled protectively behind his son’s head like he had when Carl was just a baby. His perfect, perfect boy. Rick couldn’t contain his sobs, getting to hold him in his arms again, alive and whole. His sunshine, the light in the darkness of the world about to come, even if he now felt so heartbreakingly fragile, smaller than he’d been in years. 

“I remember everything,” Carl choked out. “Mom… Judith. The prison. Negan. I- dad, I don’t wanna go through it again.”

Rick pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “We won’t. I swear to you, Carl. We’re gonna do it different. I got you. This time, I got you. I will do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”

Carl nodded, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve, already trying to be brave. “We have to find the others. We don’t have long, right? Before it starts.”

Rick stood, carrying Carl in his arms as they walked out of the school office. The secretary just stared, stunned into silence. Rick didn’t feel the need to explain, he had gotten tired of it years ago. 

As they got into the police cruiser, Carl looked down at his small hands. “It’s weird,” he said quietly. “Being in this body again. I feel like I’m twelve, but also… I’m not.”

Rick looked over, pain and pride burning in his chest. “It doesn’t matter what size you are, son. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. I already told you, once - you’re a man, Carl.”

Carl nodded, then glanced out the window. “We need to find Daryl. Michonne. Glenn. Carol. Before it spreads. We need to keep mom safe. Not let her near Shane. ”

Rick pulled out of the school lot. “We will. I can get to the police records, find their numbers. We can look them up, too. Daryl might be difficult, but at least Merle should have a record. Michonne is a lawyer, she should have contact information easily available. But first, your mom. If she woke up alone in our house and remembers, she must be worried sick - and we need to be there in case Shane decides to go there.”

They drove in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between them. Carl sat upright, alert, a soldier trapped in a child’s body. Rick couldn’t stop glancing at him, just to make sure he was real, that his boy was breathing. 

That Rick still had time with his son, even when he thought he had run out. His precious, perfect son. He wanted to crush him in his arms and never let go, but he knew he also had to let Carl process things on his own, be independent. 

The cruiser turned down an old familiar street, one Rick hadn’t driven down in years - not even in his memories, having let go of Lori and their domestic memories long ago. 

The Grimes home stood at the picture-perfect suburb, unassuming. Clean. Still with off-white walls and the flower bed Lori used to tend to. 

Rick pulled the car to a slow stop, but they didn’t get out. Not yet. They just sat there, staring, needing a moment to take it in. 

Carl’s voice was soft. “It looks smaller.”

Rick gave a short nod. “It does. But also bigger, compared to places where we used to stay.”

“I mean, everything felt so big, back then. So meaningful,” Carl murmured. “Now it’s just four walls and a roof.”

Rick looked at the front porch, the windows that caught the morning light just right.

He remembered Lori in the kitchen. Carl on the couch, watching cartoons. Laughter.

Then he remembered coming back to it; empty, overgrown. But it hadn’t been the state of the house that had hurt him, not really - it had been the implications, the fear that his family was gone, like they had been in the future either way.

Now, they were alive. Carl was alive. For the first time in a long, long time, Rick allowed himself to hope.

They stepped out of the cruiser and Rick unlocked the front door with shaking hands. Carl stood behind him, silent, small again but alert, eyes too full of experience for a boy his size. He pushed the door open slowly.

The scent hit him first. Clean laundry, fresh cooking. Things from a time far in the past-

“Rick?”

Her voice. Rick’s spine straightened, breath catching. Carl tensed beside him. Lori came from around the corner, one hand clutching the wall. 

She looked like she had the morning she kissed him goodbye before work the last time - alive, calm, whole - then her face twisted. Not into joy, but fear.

“Rick?” she said again, her voice rising. “What’s going on? I- I just woke up and everything felt wrong. Where were you?”

She walked towards them, her hands trembling. “You were in the hospital, there was a call, you got shot, Rick, and then- and then I woke up in bed and Carl wasn’t there. Carl-”

“Mom?”

She stopped cold on the last step.

Carl stood in the entryway, looking panicked all over again. Rick couldn’t imagine what his son was going through, having had to put her down. Rick swore he would protect them both from that fate.

Lori let out a gasp. “Carl?”

She stumbled toward him, dropping to her knees, clutching his face in her hands. “Oh my God, you’re okay. You're okay.”

Carl flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. He looked troubled, torn between his own emotions. 

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“I- I had a dream. A nightmare. I thought we were, God, I thought we were all-” Lori looked up at Rick. “What happened? Why do I remember a prison? Walkers? Shane… he was losing it, and I was pregnant, and then-”

She froze.

Her hand went to her stomach. Her breath hitched.

“Rick,” she whispered. “The baby. Judith. I was giving birth, and Maggie was there, and I- I died. I died, didn’t I?”

Rick knelt beside her and Carl. “Yeah. You did, Lori.”

Lori blinked fast, shaking her head like she could scatter the truth. “But I’m here now. I don’t understand. How can I be here?”

Carl looked at her gently. “We don’t know. But we are, what does it matter? And… it’s not just that - we remember things long after you…”

Lori stared at him, trembling. “After?”

Carl nodded. “After you died. A lot happened, Mom.”

Lori looked between them - at her son who spoke like an adult, at her husband who stood solid and quiet, like a man who’d already grieved her. Rick knew it all must’ve been a shock to her, but so much had happened since the prison, since Rick had last seen her, alive or in his hallucinations. He was a different man from the person she had known, and he was never going to be the same again. 

“The baby…” she said, barely a whisper. “Did they…?”

“She lived. Judith lived,” Rick said, reassuring her. “She was still out there when I... But yeah. She made it. Daryl and Michonne will know more, I assume. But it wasn’t a short, cruel life like you feared. She was loved by all of us.”

Tears spilled freely down Lori’s face. “She made it, she made it.”

She covered her mouth, sobbing. Rick didn’t move to comfort her. He watched, a quiet ache in his eyes, but no urgency to reach out.

Lori looked up at Rick, reaching toward him. “You- you remembered all of it, until…?”

Rick nodded.

“You and Carl - you both lived through everything?”

“We did. Until we didn’t.”

She searched his face for something. Regret. Grief. Love. She found something, but seemingly not the thing she wanted.

“You look at me like I’m already gone,” she whispered.

Rick’s voice was quiet, steady. “I mourned you. And I moved on. It was hard, but I did.”

Lori’s face cracked.

“I’m sorry,” Rick added. “But that was a long time ago, for me. I know you wanted to reconnect, around the time you died, so you must still want that, and I think it would’ve happened if you had lived, but now… it has been years for me, and many, many things I’ve gone through without you. I am not the man I was - I refuse to be .”

She looked down at her hands, looking so… young. She must’ve been able to tell how he had changed, too. How he had aged. Hell, even if he looked younger than he had in years, he knew he wasn’t behaving the same way. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “I remember everything up to the prison. But after that, nothing. Just… silence. You both are… so different. How many years has it been?”

Carl was silent, turning to look at Rick with raised eyebrows. Apparently he didn’t yet want to delve into the topic of his own death. 

“Years. I don’t know exactly how many. I got separated from everyone when Judith was three, and after that, the years began to blur,” Rick said, not wanting to elaborate further on everything that happened after the bridge, the hopelessness, his hand, so on. “But there is so much that happened before that. We will catch you up on everything you need to know.”

Carl offered a hand to help Lori up, apparently feeling more willing to touch her again. She took it with shaking fingers.

Rick turned back to the doorway, his voice distant. “Come on. We’ve got a lot to do, and I don’t know if we can stay here without enforcing the place - Shane knows where we live, after all, and he already threatened me with a gun today.”

Carl’s eyes widened.

“Dad! You didn’t tell me that bastard-” he started saying, but seemed to regain his composure. Lori shuddered. 

“Shane. Oh, god. He’s alive, too, and he remembers?” she said, seeming panicked. “Rick, the last time, he tried to kill you. What if- what if he tries again, now?”

He’s dangerous, Rick, and he won’t stop.

Rick wasn’t worried. 

“If he tries, I’ll deal with it,” he stated. “For now, I think we need to block the doors and windows, ensure he can’t get in while we make our plan. We’ve only got weeks before the world goes to hell, and I am going to make the best out of that precious time.”

Carl nodded, determined. Lori still seemed shaken, but based on what Rick knew of her, he believed she was going to be alright. Not that day, maybe not in the next week or month, but one day, she was going to be - but she wasn’t his most important responsibility any longer, and needed to figure out a way to connect with the rest of his family, some of whom he considered to be closer to him than Lori had ever been.

-

The moment her eyes opened, Michonne knew something was wrong - the walls were too clean, the air too quiet. 

It wasn’t perfectly quiet, though. There was the sound of a child softly whimpering, and neither Judith nor RJ had been young enough to sound like that in a very long time. 

Michonne sat up, noting the casual style of her hair, the clean, brightly coloured clothes she had on, the bracelets on her wrist. It was all wrong, and Michonne knew it must’ve been one of those nightmares she often had. 

Especially when she saw Andre Anthony - even after years and years, the pain never grew lesser. 

“Andre…” she whispered softly, walking to her son, petting his head gently. Then there was a sound coming from the doorway of the room, making Michonne reach her hand behind her back, only to find her katana missing. 

“You’re up early,” Mike said. “You okay?”

Michonne stood slowly from where she had been crouched over Andre. “I need to go.”

Mike frowned. “Go where?”

She walked past him, barefoot and quiet, into the hall, grabbing her katana from where she used to keep it, feeling like a piece of herself snapped back into place as she slid it right where it always rested on her back.

“Michonne.”

She turned.

Mike’s face was shifting - confusion giving way to unease. “You’re scaring me.”

“I remember everything,” she said softly. “This isn’t a dream, otherwise you’d already be a walker.”

Mike blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I remember after you died. And Terry. And Andre.” She looked toward her son and grabbed him, lifting him to her arms. 

“Michonne, you sound insane. I think you need to go and rest, this isn’t healthy-”

“You’re already gone. You just don’t know it yet,” Michonne said, walking right. “You got Andre killed, the last time. This time, I won’t let you.”

Mike opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He seemed to be extremely confused, giving Michonne a chance to walk away. She knew exactly where she was headed - there was someone she needed to find, someone who had always helped her survive and, at points, thrive. 

Rick. And, of course, her best friend, Carl. 

She walked out the door without looking back.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

Maggie sat up sharply, heart thudding, fingers gripping the edge of the blanket as the memories crashed into her like a speeding truck.

Working with Negan. Hershel, her son, already so grown up, the betrayal-

Glenn. Glenn, god, what had she become afterwards?

Hershel. Beth-

“Maggie?”

She turned toward the door at the sound of the voice she hadn't heard in what felt like a lifetime.

Beth.

Beth stood in the doorway, as sweet and young as she had been before, wrapped in her sleep robe, her face pale. But her eyes were wild. Awake .

Maggie was on her feet before she could think.

“Beth?”

Beth ran to her, arms wrapping around each other with desperate force. Maggie sobbed, feeling the weight of her years, the years she had had to live without her sister. She had lived so much longer than her little sister, and that had been tearing at her heart. 

Now, she was alive. 

“I remember everything,” Beth whispered softly. “I remember dying. Grady. Daryl. Oh, god, I was shot, right in front of the all, him-”

“I know,” Maggie choked out. “I know, I saw you, after. I thought-”

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Beth sobbed. “Maggie, I thought you were gone, too.”

They pulled apart just enough to look at each other, Beth wide-eyed, Maggie feeling like she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. She felt so… old, compared to Beth. She had been so young when she had died, she had missed everything-

“Girls?”

Maggie froze. She knew that voice, would know it anywhere.

“Daddy?” she whispered, turning to look towards the sound.

Beth, too, turned to the door just as Hershel stepped into view, fully dressed, no cane in sight, healthy. No beard, short hair, face less lined. 

Maggie covered her mouth with both hands. “Daddy, oh my God-”

She threw herself into his arms, tears bursting out of her in great shudders, not caring that she had been a grown woman for over two decades. Beth followed, turning it into a group hug.

He held them, chuckling softly but with tears in his own eyes. “Maggie, Beth, my girls- you made it, right? I died, but you-”

“You did,” Maggie sobbed. “All of you. I lost everyone.”

Hershel paled at that. 

“You, Beth, Glenn. All of you were just… gone,” Maggie continued. Hershel looked frantically at Beth, turned her head down a little, burying it in his shoulder. 

“Daddy, I- I was stupid. It was a mistake, I left Maggie behind - but you left us behind, too-”

Hershel pulled both daughters in, tighter. “You don’t have to say goodbye anymore. This time, none of us will be left behind.”

Maggie knew things weren’t that simple, they never were. But right now, she needed to focus on her family - the old family she used to have. Downstairs, more voices stirred - Patricia’s loud voice, followed by Otis’s. Annette, Maggie’s dear stepmother. Shawn. 

Maggie’s knees nearly gave out.

-

By midday, they were all gathered at the kitchen table, stunned, tearful, shaking. Annette was cooking something, clearly wanting to focus on anything other than the situation that she, apparently, didn’t know anything about. 

Neither did Shawn. Annette, Shawn, they didn’t remember. Maggie didn’t know if it was because they had died so early on, but they didn’t remember the future like Maggie, Beth, Hershel, Patricia and Otis did. 

“The last thing I remember was that high school, me and Shane running away. We weren’t going to get away, I could tell, but I was determined to try, but then he- he shot me, in the leg, and I got ripped apart by those-” Otis said, before looking hesitantly at Hershel, seemingly still thinking that Hershel would have a problem with any talk negative towards the walkers. 

Her daddy knew better, after everything. 

“I think we all suspected that Shane had a hand in your death, but none of us knew what truly happened,” Patricia said, grabbing her husband’s hand tightly. “The last thing I remember is the farm getting attacked, being eaten by walkers.”

Hershel nodded. 

“The last thing I remember was the governor, killing me with that katana.”

Otis looked confused, Annette let out a small whimper from the kitchen. Shawn just looked… lost. At least Beth’s boyfriend, Jimmy, wasn’t there. That would’ve made things even more awkward.

“The last thing I remember is getting shot in the head. Right in front of- of Daryl, Rick, all of them. I can’t believe what Daryl must’ve felt like, I-” Beth started, but her words devolved into subs pretty quickly. 

Otis spoke gently. “Who’s Daryl?”

Beth’s smile was soft and sad. 

“Right. You never got to meet him, did you? Someone who never thought he mattered. But he did,” Beth turned to look at Maggie. “When you… was he still? I told him, before, that he was going to be the last man standing, though I think he hated the idea…”

Maggie nodded. 

“After Beth died, a lot of things happened. It is all very… hard to explain. We found a community, Alexandria, and other communities after that. I got pregnant. A group called the saviours, their leader, Negan, he- he killed Glenn, beat his head in with a baseball bat. I had to raise my son, Hershel, alone, and it was…” Maggie didn’t feel like continuing the tale, she especially didn’t want to think about what happened later on. God, she had worked with the murderer of her husband, what kind of a person was she? 

“I don’t know why this happened. I don’t know how we’re all here again - but it’s real. I remember everything. More than any of you. I’m the one who lived longest out of us here, and I know one thing for sure - there’s no outlasting or preventing it. We have to prepare for the world to end in just a few weeks, and we will survive this time.”

Annette and Shawn looked at her like she was insane. Maggie didn’t care. It had been decades since she had seen either one of them, and while she loved them, her priorities were straight. 

“After the farm fell, some of us found a prison. It was safe… for a while. Then we lost that too. Beth was taken. Daddy died. We lost everything, and we kept going. This time, we avoid that. We don’t know who else remembers, but we need to get in contact with those that could. Rick, Daryl, Michonne, Glenn-”

Maggie let out a sob before composing herself again, trying to avoid going in that direction. 

It seemed the universe wasn’t going to let her. 

“This Negan, the man who killed Glenn, will he be a threat to us right now?” Hershel asked, gaze hard. Maggie shook her head, swallowing. 

God, if she had a say in it, they would never go anywhere near the saviours. Even if some wanted to return to Alexandria, she- Maggie wouldn’t go anywhere near that place again, if it meant risking Glenn’s life. And Hershel, Beth, all of her family had never even seen Alexandria, so they would be easier to convince. 

She wasn’t so sure of everyone else. 

“No, no. Negan and the saviours operated in Virginia. It’s really far away, and if we don’t go there, he won’t have a chance to hurt any of us,” Maggie said. Then, a thought crossed her mind, making her shiver a little. “And even if he remembers, like we do, I don’t think he would come after us. Not to kill us, at least. Maybe, if he remembers and we go there, this time he will actually kill all of us, but he won’t come after us, here.”

Hershel frowned. 

“How do you know that? Someone who beat Glenn to death with a baseball bat doesn’t sound too predictable.”

Maggie covered her eyes with her shaky hands. 

“I know it because I- I worked with Negan, later on. When we defeated his “saviours”, Rick made the decision not to kill him. He lived. He- I hate him, but he- he helped me save my son. I don’t think he would hold a grudge against us.” Maggie said, though it was a bitter pill to swallow for her. She had wanted his blood for so long, and now? Having to think of him as anywhere near reasonable was hard. 

“I wanted to kill him. I wanted that, for years, but in the end, I didn’t want it enough.”

Patricia frowned. “How could you not?”

“If you had known for certain that Shane killed Otis, would you have killed him?” Maggie asked, voice cracking. Beth, her dear little sister, pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. 

Patricia was silent. 

“I don’t want to go through it again,” Maggie whispered. “But if I have to, I want to do it with them. With Glenn. With Rick, Michonne, Daryl. With you.”

Her eyes lifted. “I have to find Glenn. If there’s even a chance he remembers…”

Hershel nodded slowly. “We’ll find him, Maggie. Even if nobody aside from us remembers, Rick’s group will be here some months after the outbreak. Glenn will be with them.”

Beth nodded. “Daryl will be there too. And Rick. He needs to be here, he- he was our leader.”

Maggie agreed completely. She trusted Rick as a leader, and in retrospect, he had been the best leader they could’ve had. Even if she hadn’t trusted him with his decision to keep Negan alive. In hindsight, Maggie could see why . She didn’t like it, she hated Negan, but…

She looked out the window at the fields stretching beyond the farmhouse. The peaceful calm that they still had. It had been years since she’d seen the place - the barn, not yet filled with walkers made out of her family. Their horses, the-

Maggie heard a sound coming from the road, her eyes focusing towards it. There was a car with a pizzeria’s logo taped on it driving towards the farm. 

Her knees nearly gave out.

The car came to a stop a small distance away. The door opened, and there he was.

Glenn .

The breath left her lungs like she’d been punched.

He stood beside the car, blinking at the farmhouse, at her - smaller than she remembered, and younger, and somehow exactly the same. 

Their eyes met.

He froze. Maggie moved.

She didn’t even realize she was running until her feet hit the grass. Rushed to him, arms wrapping around him like she could hold time still, like she could get the missing years back just by touching him.

He made a sound - something between a sob and a laugh - and crushed her to him. 

“You found me,” she whispered into his neck. “Do you remember? All of it?”

“All of it.” he said, voice cracking.

Her hands went to his face. “You died.”

“I know.”

Maggie sobbed, her fingers moving behind his neck. “You left me.”

“I didn’t want to,” Glenn said, resting his forehead against hers. 

“I know,” she said, voice breaking. “God, I know.”

They were silent for a moment. The wind moved around them, soft and warm.

“I thought maybe-” he started, “-when I woke up, I thought maybe I would be the only one who remembers. Then… then I’d be alone, having to face all of it.”

“You didn’t.” Maggie took his hand and placed it over her heart. “We are in this together. Always.”

He smiled, but there was grief in it. “We had a child, right? They must’ve survived. You must have survived, right, Maggie?”

He sounded nearly hysterical. 

She nodded. “Hershel. A son.”

Glenn nodded shakily. 

“I’ll never get to meet him. Even if we have another child, I will never get to meet our son,” Glenn said, his eyes closed. “How long after…? It all seemed so final, with Abraham, then…”

Maggie swallowed. 

“For years. A long, long time. We survived, Glenn. Don’t blame yourself for…”

Glenn held her close. “That means you defeated him, right? Took him out. Negan. He… surely you didn’t live under his thumb all those years, right?”

Maggie swallowed. 

“Yeah. We defeated him. There was a war, but we did.”

Glenn nodded. 

“Good. What hurt the most, leaving you behind, was the thought that you had to be afraid alone, of men like him,” Glenn brushed his fingers through her short hair, smiling. “I would’ve given anything for more time.”

She nodded once, fiercely. “I know. So would I.”

He hesitated. “What happened, after…?”

She looked down. “The others helped. Rick, Michonne, Daryl. Even Carol. I led people. I tried to make something good. I tried to raise our son well…”

That was all Glenn should know, really. Maggie knew it wasn’t fair, trying to avoid the topic of Negan, but she hadn’t expected to ever have to talk to Glenn again, and face his reaction to the news that she had let his murderer live. 

“But?” Glenn asked, sensing something was off. 

Her mouth tightened. “We defeated Negan, but we didn’t kill him. Most of us, who survived long enough, worked with him.”

Glenn didn’t move.

Maggie’s voice dropped. “I wanted him dead so badly I tried to go against Rick’s wishes. Rebel. Got Daryl roped into it, too, and I don’t think he ever forgave himself for how he acted towards Rick before…”

“Before what?” Glenn asked, hesitant. 

“Before Rick died. Or so we assume, we never found the body. I guess, if he remembers, we will get some answers.”

Glenn nodded, resting his head on her shoulder. 

“Negan. You said you worked with him. Did… did you forgive him?”

“No,” she said instantly. “But I didn’t kill him either.”

He nodded slowly. “That sounds like you. You have a great heart.”

She looked up at him. “I kept going, Glenn. For you. For our boy. But not a day passed that I didn’t want you back.”

And here he was.

Alive.

Glenn pulled her into his arms again, holding her tight. She closed her eyes and let herself lean into it - the shape of him, the smell of him, the way he fit around her like they’d never been apart.

Behind them, her daddy was watching from the porch. Annette, Otis, Patricia and Shawn looked stunned. 

Maggie didn’t care, not at that moment.

Glenn kissed her forehead and whispered, “We get to do it again. This time, together.”

She smiled through the tears.

“Yeah,” she said, grasping his hands in her own. “Together.”

Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

The windows were boarded up by midday. Not for walkers - for Shane.

Rick had spent the entire morning sweating through his uniform shirt, nailing boards across windows with hands that remembered this too well. Carl had helped in silence, always a step ahead, a soldier in a child’s body. Lori mostly watched from the couch, flinching whenever the hammer struck too hard.

“She said she doesn't remember anything past the prison,” Carl had whispered to Rick earlier, “but I think she’s starting to understand how it was.”

Rick believed it. The way Lori looked at him now - searching his face like she was seeing all the versions of him at once… it would have once made him worried, but now, he knew the kind of man he had become and he wasn’t afraid for people to know it, too. 

Finishing securing the house, at least a little bit, pushing their designer sofa to rest against the front door, Rick decided it was time for the next part of his plan. He took out a piece of paper and a pen, writing down names of people he remembered. Then he went to their house computer, opened it up and started searching, a phone in his hand, ready to call if he found anyone’s contact information. 

Rick had to first familiarise himself to the use of phones and computers - and remember his old password. Luckily, Officer Friendly had been predictable, and it was Carl’s birthday. 

“Who are you calling?” Lori asked, her voice raw.

Rick sat at the table across from her and opened his old notebook. “Anyone who might remember. People I used to know. In some cases, you knew them too.”

Carl walked in and dropped a stack of books on the table, next to the computer. “Phone books. Found them in the basement.”

Rick gave him a nod. “Good thinking. The landlines are still working, too, and they might even work longer than mobile phones. We might not find anyone outside of Georgia with these, but I’d assume at least Hershel’s farm might be listed.”

Carl brought a chair from the kitchen next to the computer and sat down, starting to flip through the pages of the phone books. “No point waiting. If they remember too, we need to move fast. If they don’t… they’ll think we’re crazy.”

Rick looked at the list of names he’d already scribbled down. The original Atlanta group, those from Hershel’s farm, the ones they met at prison, anyone he remembered playing a role in the chaos that came. Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Hershel, Maggie, Beth, Michonne…

Michonne’s contact information would probably be found by just looking her up online, since she had been a lawyer. Carol was a housewife, and while Rick could probably search for Ed, he didn’t want to clue the abusive man in. Daryl… Daryl had said he had never been to jail, but Merle definitely had been, and Rick wasn’t as apprehensive to calling him as he would’ve been Ed-

Carl turned to him, the phone book open on the white pages, pointing at a name; Hershel Greene. 

Rick sighed in relief. At least they had one lead.

Rick picked up the phone, calling the number listed on the book. It rang, then again. He had to wait for a long while. But eventually, someone picked up. 

Rick recognised the voice immediately. 

“Hello?”

“Is this Hershel Greene?” Rick asked, for appearance’s sake, even if he already knew the answer.

A pause. Then a long, measured breath. “…Rick Grimes?”

Rick closed his eyes, relief washing over him. “You remember.”

“Every second,” Hershel said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve got Carl. Lori’s here too. She remembers up to her death.”

“Jesus.” Hershel was quiet again. “I remember up to my death, too. So does Bethy. Maggie, Otis, Patricia, Glenn …”

Rick’s throat tightened. Glenn was already with them? And he hadn’t considered Otis, the man Shane had killed. 

“You at the farm?”

“Yeah.”

“Everyone else there too?”

Hershel gave a soft, almost-wistful laugh. “Everyone. Even Shawn, Annette. Last time, you didn’t get to meet them… alive, at least. It’s like… time rewound itself, Rick. Though they don’t remember, only the ones that lived longer do.”

Speaking of the ones that lived longer… 

Rick swallowed hard. “Can I talk to Maggie?”

Maybe it should have been Glenn, but Rick wasn’t ready to face the failure that had led to the man’s death, and Maggie had still been alive during the bridge, so she must’ve been aware of a lot more stuff than Rick. 

A moment later, her voice came through - clear, steadier than he expected, not the woman hell-bent on revenge she remembered.

“Rick?”

“Maggie.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Are you-?”

“I’m here. With Carl. Lori too. And when I woke up, I was with Shane, but he ran off…” Rick said, shaking his head. “But that doesn’t matter. Maggie, what… I know it isn’t fair to ask, but what happened after I…”

“It is very fair to ask. And, well… there’s a lot that happened. I don’t know if I am the best person to talk about it all, though, as I wasn’t as… present as Michonne and Daryl. At least in Judith’s life.” 

Rick closed his eyes. He had, so far, tried not to think of Judith, his baby girl, who he knew he would never see again. The loss wasn’t as great as it could’ve been, if he hadn’t already been separated from her in his past life, but the knowledge still stung. 

“What about Alexandria?” Rick asked, changing the topic. 

“Well, your death certainly had an impact. I don’t think there was a proper leader after you. There was the council, and Michonne had a huge role, but sometimes things weren’t as effective. We got new threats, we took them out, so on.”

Rick nodded, even if Maggie couldn’t see it. He knew he had to talk with her - and Michonne and Daryl - even more, once they were face-to-face, but that wasn’t the most important thing at that point.

“I know how you felt about my leadership, after I chose to have Negan live. Maggie, can you follow my lead, now?” Rick asked. He needed to know, because it was his intention to lead them well, this time, and ensure there were no… issues. 

Maggie sighed. “Yes, Rick. I mean, I was a leader, too, but… my decisions weren’t always the best. Hell, I know I am impulsive, I got people killed… I, indirectly, got you killed.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rick said automatically. Then, he realised he had to add something. “I didn’t die on the bridge. I blew it up, but I was… I was taken, I didn’t die.”

There was a moment of silence before Maggie exhaled. “Maybe Daryl will have less guilt, knowing that. But to us, you were dead. We didn’t know any better.”

Daryl. Knowing that the incredible man had suffered with guilt tore at Rick.

“Alright. We can talk more about the past, later, but… I don’t know how long we’ve got before this world goes insane again. A few weeks, I believe, based on what I have been told. We need to make a plan,” Rick stated, changing the topic. 

“We’ve been talking. Trying to figure out who’s back. Who remembers… Glenn’s here, he found me,” Maggie said. 

Hershel had already told him that, but Rick still found himself feeling relief. 

“He remembers everything,” she said. “So does Bethy, and Daddy. I, Rick, god. I hadn’t seen them in so many years. You must feel the same, with Lori. I love them, but I have changed so much.”

Rick understood, definitely. “You aren’t alone on that.”

“No,” Maggie replied, her voice thick. “None of us are.”

“I am also looking up people - that is how I found your landline. Do you think, after we are finished with that, here, we could come to the farm? Maybe tomorrow, I think we all need a bit more time to settle,” Rick said, back to planning. 

“Yeah, sure. I do want to spend time with Glenn, reconnect. And Beth… I can’t imagine how she must feel, being so young again. And Hershel with Annette…” Maggie said. “Inform me if anything more happens today, okay?”

“Okay.”

They ended the call. Rick hoped Glenn wasn’t going to feel too bad about them not talking, yet, but Rick knew he wasn’t the kind of man to hold grudges. Besides, they needed to move ahead with the numbers. 

Next: Michonne. 

Rick looked her up online and found her contact information tied to a law firm. It was probably a work phone, but Carl didn’t find a landline connection, so it was their shot. 

She didn’t answer. Rick dialled five times, nothing. He wasn’t too worried - he knew Michonne was capable of handling herself.

He and Carl started looking up more people on the list. Rick looked up Merle’s contact information in the police database, but got no answer. No answer on the landline of the Peletier household, either. Going through the names in the original Atlanta group, the first call that connected was to Andrea - who also had contact information online, connected to a law firm. 

“Is this Andrea Harrison?” 

An uncertain voice answered. “Rick?”

“Andrea?”

“I- I can’t believe I’m talking to you.”

Rick breathed out a sigh of relief, crossing Andrea’s name off the list, as he had Glenn’s. 

“You remember it all?” he asked. 

“Too much,” she muttered. “Amy. The CDC. The prison. Dale… the governor. ”

Rick sighed. “You okay?”

“No. But I’m breathing. That’s something,” she said. “Amy remembers, too. Our parents don’t. We are in Florida, still, with them, but it is… odd.”

Rick could vaguely remember that Andrea and Amy had been on a trip, when the outbreak began. 

“Do you still want to be a part of our group? Or stay there, with your parents?”

Andrea seemed hesitant. “I don’t know. A part of me wants to just rush there with Amy, find Dale, and ensure all of us survive. Michonne, too. But our parents…”

Rick nodded. 

“Be in touch, once you decide. Or come to the farm,” Rick said. “We’re making a plan.”

“You always are.”

Rick hung up gently.

Carl looked at him. “Who else?”

Rick shook his head. “No one else picked up. Tried Daryl. Nothing. Michonne, nothing. No info on Dale or T-Dog either. Morgan.”

Lori, still at the table, finally spoke. “What about Carol?”

“Peletier’s landline didn’t connect,” Rick said. “Though I guess I could look them up on the police database, too, like I did with Merle.”

When he did, they got a surprise - though, in hindsight, it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. 

She had been arrested earlier that day, following the death of her husband in what she claimed to be self-defence. 

Carl looked at the screen over Rick’s shoulder, a small smile on his face.

“Ed?” he asked.

Rick gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

“Good for her.”

Rick wrote down the information the database had on her, the fact that it was suspected to be self-defence, so on. His police training was back in full effect - but this wasn’t about the law anymore and Rick wasn’t worried, he knew how well Carol could play a meek abuse victim. Still, he was going to do his best to help her-

There was a knock at the door. All of their heads turned towards the direction, Rick’s hand momentarily going to his side, where his gun still rested in the holster belonging to his police uniform. 

The knocking wasn’t frantic, or hesitant, just three firm knocks. Rick looked at Carl, nodding his head up. Carl seemed to get the idea, rushing quietly upstairs to keep watch through the windows.

Rick moved toward the door slowly, cautiously, ready for a fight if it was Shane, though he didn’t think the man would have the decency to knock in the mental state he had been in last time Rick saw him. 

Rick moved the sofa carefully, then went to stand next to the wall, ready to jump anyone coming through the door once he opened it. Then, hand on his holster, he unlocked it.

Rick froze.

Outside stood a woman with a katana strapped across her back like it had never left her side. In her arms, a little boy clung to her shoulder - maybe three years old, sleepy-eyed but curious.

“Rick,” Michonne whispered.

Rick opened the door all the way.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. His hands hovered in the air like he didn’t believe she was real. He had tried so hard to get back to them all and he didn’t think he was ever going to see her again.Waking up in the past, he had realised she was there, too, but actually seeing her… 

Michonne stepped forward and without a word, wrapped her free arm around his shoulders. His body folded into hers, a tight hug given to someone who had stood by him through the hardest times in his life. 

“You’re here,” Rick finally said, voice cracked and low.

“I found you,” she whispered back, pressing her forehead to his. “I thought I lost you.”

“You did, but I am here, now.”

Rick looked between them, to the child, a small smile lighting up his face. His hand touched Andre’s back. “This is him?”

Michonne nodded, smiling as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Andre Anthony. He remembers nothing, luckily, but it is him.”

Rick looked into the boy’s face - those wide eyes, that curious tilt of the head. “Hey there, little man.”

Andre blinked, then gave a shy wave.

Rick stepped aside to let them in.

Lori was standing in the hallway, her posture tight. She looked between them with stunned eyes.

“Who is she?” Lori asked softly.

Before Rick could speak, explain the partnership they had shared through very hard years, Michonne turned to Lori, gaze gentle. “I’m Michonne. I was… part of the group. After you were gone. You must be Lori.”

Lori looked shaken, as if realising more and more that his life had continued after her. “You were close?”

Rick wasn’t going to lie. “Very.”

Though, to be fair, Rick had gotten closer to most his group members than he had been to Lori, perhaps ever. Even during their marriage, when it had been good, there had been… distance. Boundaries. With his people - Daryl, Michonne, Carol, Carl - they had been tightly knit together through hardship and survival.

Speaking of him, Carl came barreling down the stairs and froze halfway down when he saw her.

“Michonne?”

She turned to him and laughed, brushing tears from her face with her free hand. “Carl.”

He practically jumped the last few steps. Michonne crouched just in time to catch him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around her like a lifeline. Michonne turned to Rick, who immediately understood, taking Andre from her other arm so she could properly embrace Carl. 

“I missed you,” Michonne whispered fiercely. “God, I missed you.”

Rick smiled, holding Michonne’s son to his chest while Michonne embraced Rick’s.

“You were my best friend,” Carl said softly, hugging him tighter. “Still are. You are here.”

“I followed the only path that ever made sense to me,” she said. “You. And I remembered when we visited here, even if the house was already gone by then.”

They sat together on the floor for a moment, just breathing. Rick turned his gaze to Lori, who  was staring at Michonne like she was trying to piece together a puzzle missing too many pieces.

“You…” Lori started, swallowing. “Were you…?”

Rick wasn’t a liar. Keeping secrets had been what destroyed his and Lori’s relationship, and while he didn’t look at her romantically any longer, he wasn’t going to just brush her off.

“Yes,” Rick said, clearly. 

Lori’s voice cracked. “Do you love her?”

He met her eyes, honest and calm. “Yes. Though you need to get used to that - I love everyone in my family, very much. Not just Michonne. She was my partner, but we both knew, like you should know, that I will always put the group first, because I value all of them.”

Lori nodded, slow and deliberate. “Okay.”

And then, softly, she turned and walked into the living room, as if she couldn’t process any more just yet.

Michonne stood up slowly, still holding Carl. Even though he was heavier than Andre, Michonne was strong. 

“She’s not ready, not for the way things are,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder, kissing Andre’s cheek quickly. 

“She doesn’t know everything we went through, as a group,” Rick whispered. “But she is going to.”

Rick turned to look at Michonne, many questions floating in his head. 

“After I… what happened?” 

Michonne shut her eyes, burying her face in Carl’s hair. 

“You were gone. You… I wasn’t alone, of course. Daryl helped a lot. You know how he is. He was devastated, beating himself up, and maybe helping me was also helping him. A little after, I found out I was… I was pregnant,” Michonne whispered, making Carl’s head snap up, eyes widen. “We had a son. Rick Junior, RJ. We watched him and Judith grow up. I think Daryl cared for her enough she started to see him as her father figure.”

Rick swallowed, feeling lighter than in a while, knowing that Judith had lived, that she had been cared for by people as incredible as Michonne and Daryl. But to know he had had a son, other than Carl, a son he was never going to meet…

He supposed it was typical of their group to leave children fatherless. Judith, Hershel, and now RJ…

“You mourned for me, right? You thought I was dead. I have to ask, you and Daryl, did you…” Rick started, only making Michonne burst out in laughter. 

“Me and Daryl? No, definitely not. Daryl… I don’t think he was ever as close to anyone as he was to you, after. Maybe Judith, but that was parental. And I didn’t think you were dead,” she said. Rick smiled. 

“You know, it would’ve been alright with me. Moving on is only natural, and Daryl is incredible,” Rick said. “Though you are right, I didn’t die in that explosion. I was taken, by an entity called the CRM. Civic Republic Military. I died there, later. I tried to escape, to get back to you, even cut off my dan arm, but it never worked.”

Michonne looked stunned, a smile coming to her face, probably relieved to know that she had been right, even if it was too little too late. Carl seemed very curious, too, finding out things of what happened after he was gone. 

“If you had to ask about Daryl, I also have to ask, were you with anyone in this civic republic of yours?” Michonne asked lightheartedly. Rick shook his head, laughing. 

“No. I didn’t care for anyone there, not like I do for our people. So, there wasn’t even a chance of that,” He stated. 

Rick looked at the boy, Andre, and Carl. Then at Michonne. Then at the world outside the window - it was going to turn against them, soon, and he wasn’t letting any single member of his family die, not again. Not his people. 

-

The library’s flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Daryl squinted at the old computer screen. The second he ´had walked in, the librarian had clocked him like he didn’t belong. She wasn’t wrong. His fingers tapped clumsily on the keys - slow, deliberate - hunting for any information.

Merle hadn’t even dared to step foot in, waiting for Daryl in the old truck of theirs. 

Daryl typed in names he hoped to see, hoping to find something solid. Rick . He found a number for the sheriff’s department where he worked at, but no phone number for him specifically. 

No news about him getting shot, either, so Daryl took it as a win. 

There was some news, though, about a person he knew. Carol. Searching her name, clicking on the top result, the headline jumped out in black and white.

Local Woman Arrested in Domestic Homicide Case

Apparently the clever woman had killed that abusive piece of shit and had been taken into custody. Apparently the police hadn’t managed to keep their information secure, if her name was broadly seen, but Daryl didn’t really care. His jaw clenched so tight it ached.

He remembered the bruises, the silence, the broken spirit that had once been Carol. Last time, Ed had been killed by walkers, so Daryl was glad that she got to take it in her own hands the second time around. 

Daryl pushed back his chair and stood.

Carol was in jail, even if only temporarily as the case was declared as self-defence. Locked up, alone.

Daryl needed to see her. If he couldn’t find Rick, Carol was the next best thing, and she probably already had a better plan than any Daryl was able to cook up. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

Carol sat on the narrow cot of the jail cell, fingers steepled, eyes calm. Nothing about this situation was a shock - she’d faced worse. This was just another obstacle.

“You get to call someone, if you want,” the guard said gruffly, but it was clear he wasn’t seeing her as a threat at all. Carol smiled gently, looking at him. 

“I need to speak with Officer Grimes. Rick Grimes, from King Country Sheriff’s Department . He’s a family friend, he…” Carol acted out a whimper, hugging herself. “He knows about what Ed did to us. He tried to get me to come to the police, but I thought I could keep us safe, but then he started threatening Sophia…”

The guard nodded. “You have his number?”

“I had it in this notebook where I keep all the numbers of my friends and Ed’s, since Ed didn’t want me to have a phone. But he is an officer, can you look it up?” Carol asked innocently. 

The guard grunted but went to a desk nearby, typing on a computer for a while before scribbling something on a sticky note. Then, he came back to Carol’s cell, unlocking it and herding Carol towards the phones.

He handed her the sticky note. “Here. Keep it simple, but don’t worry about the time.”

Carol didn’t waste a second. She dialed, heart steady but mind sharp.

The line clicked, a familiar voice answering; “Hello?”

“Rick, it’s Carol.”

Rick’s voice caught but remained steady. Good - he remembered. “Carol?”

“I’m at the station. They’ve got me on charges of manslaughter. I stabbed Ed, it was self-defence, but I did it a few too many times for them to just let me go right away,” she said, hushed. “Sophia is here, too. I haven’t seen her in a bit, but I think some cop is watching her.”

Rick sighed. “We know, I looked Ed up on the police database and saw your arrest. I’m coming with Michonne, she’s a lawyer.”

Carol’s gaze hardened. “Good. Sophia’s safe - for now. I need you to get her out of there, with you. Take care of her.”

“We will,” Rick said. “You, are you okay?”

“Don’t ask questions you’re not ready for.”

Carol could hear the smile in Rick’s voice. “I won’t. Stay strong, I know you will.”

Carol hung up, her expression unreadable. She folded her hands and waited.

-

The station was clean and orderly, a far cry from the world Rick once knew. He stepped through the front doors, Michonne beside him, her katana left behind at Rick’s house after he warned her of possible metal detectors and scanning devices at the station. Same with Andre, who was left under Lori’s watch. 

Still, even without them, she was resourceful and clearly ready.

“Carol’s tough,” Rick said quietly as they walked in.

Michonne nodded, scanning the waiting room with a practiced eye. “She’s not the kind to break under pressure. That helps. And if they think she is a domestic abuse victim that finally snapped when her daughter was threatened, they aren’t probably putting too much pressure on her either way.”

Rick led them to the front desk, where a weary officer gave a short, nonchalant nod, pausing for a moment when he saw Rick’s uniform. “She’s in holding.” 

An escort arrived, leading them down the corridor. The clang of metal doors echoed behind them - familiar to Rick, even if it had been so long. 

Inside an interview room, now, Carol sat, eyes steady and unreadable, though from the way she hunched a little, Rick could tell she was still acting. 

Rick cleared his throat as he stepped in. “Carol.”

She looked up, her expression shifting just enough to acknowledge him, even though it was clear she probably wanted to rush at him too, to see that he was actually alive, there. 

Michonne moved forward and set a slim folder on the table, flipping it open with purpose, turning to look at a cop that was staring at them. “I am her lawyer, we deserve some privacy.”

After the cop left, Michonne turned to Carol, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We will get you out of this.”

Carol’s voice was quiet but unwavering. “Not that it will matter in some weeks.”

Rick pulled out a chair and sat across from her, smiling. 

“We’ll make sure Sophia’s safe,” he told her. “That’s priority one. Nothing will happen to her this time.”

Carol’s lips twitched. “Good.”

Michonne’s tone shifted into something more professional. “We’re working the legal side, getting a bail for you, having Sophia leave with us. But you’ll need to be careful, otherwise we need to break you out of prison when the outbreak starts.”

Carol nodded slowly. “I know.”

Rick sat back, watching her - seeing her like this again felt surreal. She looked the same as she had at the start, with short hair and baggy clothing, hidden bruises, but Rick knew she hadn’t been that woman in a long, long time. Still, it was… odd. Almost as odd as seeing Carl as a kid, again. 

“The charge is serious,” Michonne said, eyes locked ahead. “Even with a self-defense angle, you did stab Ed quite a bit, Carol.”

Carol smiled.

“He deserved it. Besides, he wasn’t fully dead after the first stab. I had to finish it,” she stated. “We’ve got neighbors. People have seen Ed hit me, scream at me. That’ll matter. Plus, Rick, you are my greatest witness - a family friend who knows of all the abuse, who has been trying to get me to get help for years, now.”

Right. Well, Rick supposed that there was nobody to say otherwise, nobody left to question a connection that hadn’t existed in reality at this time. Even Lori would be able to vouch for them. 

Michonne tapped her pen against her folder. “We’ll push for bail, as soon as possible. Emphasize the immediate threat: Sophia needs stability. Focus on the fact that you aren’t dangerous, that the only reason you did what you did was to protect yourself and her. If we get you out, it doesn’t matter what they think, in a few weeks, the justice system won’t be a problem anymore.”

Carol nodded. 

“Work on it. Now, get Sophia out of here. I don’t want her to be in this kind of a place.”

Together, Rick and Michonne returned to the front desk to begin the paperwork to take Sophia home, to ask about the bail. When they stepped outside with her, afternoon sunlight warmed them, and Rick knew everything was going to be alright-

A truck pulled up to the parking lot, its tires screeching as it halted too fast, too hard. Rick followed it with his eyes, assessing.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw who stepped out. 

Merle, leaning back with the ease of a man used to walking into trouble. 

He looked around the parking lot like he was already bored. But Rick didn’t care about Merle.

He looked past him - and there he was. Daryl.

He jumped out of the passenger side and froze, eyes immediately focused on Rick.

Sunlight hit his face, but it was paler than it had been in years. He looked so young, with the awkward blond hair he used to have at the start. His blue eyes, haunted and wide, locked on him, making him look like a deer frozen in headlights. 

From what Rick had heard, Daryl had blamed himself for what happened to him, had carried the grief in his heart for a long time. But it wasn’t his fault - none of it ever was. Daryl had done nothing wrong, yet the world seemed to keep beating him up, destroying everything and everyone he cared for. 

Rick took a step forward. For a long second, they just stared at each other.

Then Daryl moved.

He walked fast, eyes wild. He didn’t stop until he was inches from Rick - and then everything cracked wide open. He grabbed Rick, pulling him in with both arms, rough and full of weight, like he was afraid letting go would make him disappear again. His reaction was visceral, clearly trying to prove that Rick was real.

Rick didn’t hesitate.

He wrapped his arms around Daryl in return, firm and steady. Their embrace was unspoken language, loyalty and grief compressed into one staggering moment. Neither of them were the same men they’d once been, when they last saw each other, but what they were to each other hadn’t changed.

Rick felt Daryl’s body shake with sobs he tried to quiet. And when Daryl cried, it was devastating. Rick placed one of his hands on Daryl’s head, pressing him to his shoulder, holding him there like it was all that mattered. 

Daryl’s voice was a low rasp. “I saw you die, man.”

Rick said nothing at first. Just held him tighter.

“You were gone,” Daryl said again, voice shaking now. “I watched it happen. It was my fault, and even before, I treated ya like shit. I tried to look for you, so’s I could at least bury you, but ya were just gone .”

“I know,” Rick finally said, softly. “I know you did.”

Daryl pulled back slightly, just enough to look Rick in the eyes. His own were glassy, but hard. “I tried. I tried to protect ‘em all, after ya... Carol, Judith, Michonne, she-”

“I know, Daryl. You have done nothing wrong”

“You were supposed to make it out,” Daryl went on, voice rising with emotion. “You always pulled through. I kept thinkin’... maybe you were still out there. But after a while, man, I stopped hopin’.”

Rick nodded, his jaw tight. “So did I. But I am here, now. ”

“I ain’t never forgive myself for not findin’ you.” Daryl’s voice broke at the edges now. “For not savin’ you. I should’ve just listened to you, done what you said, that’s how it worked.”

“You did save me,” Rick said. “Back then. So many times. You were the best of us, Daryl. There’s nothing to forgive.”

Daryl flinched like he didn’t believe it - but he didn’t argue. Rick didn’t know if it was because he thought arguing with Rick was what had caused all to go shit in the first place, or because he knew it was true, but Rick didn’t care. He pressed his face to Daryl’s hair, smoothing his hands across his strong back.

“I ain’t leavin’ again,” Daryl muttered. “You get that? I ain’t walkin’ away. I ain’t lettin’ you get hurt, or lost, or taken, or none of it. You’re not alone this time. You won't die .”

“I never died. Daryl, you hear me?” Rick said, moving his hand to the back of Daryl’s neck, trying to calm him down, steady him. “I lived. And I never blamed you, okay? You carried on, you protected them. Judith. Michonne talked about it, and you know I can never repay that debt, repay you for everything you have done for all of us.”

Daryl’s shoulders sagged. Like something inside him finally started to let go. Maybe it was something he had been carrying with him since the bridge, the tenseness, but it seemed to fly away as the younger man melted against him. 

Was he really younger, though, anymore? Rick had no idea what age they had all been, when…

They stood there for another long beat, neither speaking, just Daryl breaking down and Rick trying to soothe him. Rick had also thought he would never see Daryl again, but he had always believed Daryl would survive anything - maybe that was why he wasn’t so shocked to see him again. Daryl, though, was clearly emotionally affected.

In the end, it was Merle who finally broke the silence with a snort.

“Well, that’s all sweet and damn near tear-worthy,” Merle drawled. “But maybe you two lovebirds wanna stop hugging in the middle of the damn road.”

Rick glanced at him. “You remember everything too?”

“Sure as hell do,” Merle said, arms crossed. “What a lovely little trip down trauma lane. Just thrilled to be back.”

Daryl didn’t even look at him. His eyes stayed locked on Rick.

“What’s the plan?” Daryl asked, voice lower now, steadier, looking up to Rick, clearly trusting in his leadership again. “You got one?”

Rick nodded. “We’re getting Carol out. Then we start finding the rest. We are already in contact with Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Beth. ”

Daryl seemed to shake a bit more with all those names. Rick knew he needed to reassure the man a bit more.

“None of them were your fault, you hear me?” he said, pulling back to grasp Daryl’s shoulders with his hands. “None of us would be alive without you. You aren’t at fault for any of it.”

Daryl didn’t seem convinced, but he still nodded. Rick pressed his forehead to Daryl’s, grabbing the back of his neck, looking him in the eye.

“You hear me?”

Daryl seemed to be holding back another sob. “Yeah, man. But they weren’t your fault, either? Ya did the best you could.”

Rick hadn’t realised he needed to hear that, too. 

Daryl looked at Rick, now more focused than before. “You lead. I’ll follow. This time, I’ll trust yer judgement.”

Rick’s throat tightened. “You sure?”

Daryl’s answer was immediate. “Ain’t no one else I’d follow. You hear me? Not no one.”

Rick was about to say something, when Merle interrupted them again.

“Get a room, boys.”

Daryl glared at him without loosening his grip on Rick. “Shut up.”

Merle held up his hands in mock surrender. Rick assessed him, too, noting that he didn’t seem to be an actual threat. He seemed to like annoying them, but there wasn’t any sign of violence. 

Rick turned back to Daryl, not letting go. He glanced past him and caught sight of Michonne standing a step behind, watching them with a smile. There was something soft in her eyes - real happiness for them, for Rick.

Daryl noticed her too. He nodded. Minimal, but honest, telling of the years they had spent working together even after Rick.  

Standing beside Michonne, Sophia just looked confused, clutching a small doll in her hands - not the same one that Daryl had found, which she had gotten from the Morales children, but still looking so young. 

Daryl followed his gaze, seeing.

"Daryl," Rick said gently, stepping aside to make room, remembering how Daryl had looked for her, trying his very best to find her. He really was so good, for all of them. 

Daryl advanced slowly, still holding onto Rick, practically dragging him along. Rick didn’t mind.

Daryl squatted, eyes wide like he’d reached a ghost he’d missed more than he'd thought possible. "Sophia," he whispered.

It was odd, since neither of them had really interacted before she went missing, and still Daryl had looked for her most out of any of them. So, Sophia didn’t remember him that well, clearly, but she looked up at him, silent, and that was enough for Daryl to break again. 

Rick exhaled softly, rubbing Daryl’s back as he sobbed, Sophia looking confused.

Rick watched them all - Michonne, standing beside Sophia, looking at Rick with her smile. Daryl, still holding onto him. Sophia, her eyes gazing at Rick like he knew what to do. Merle, on the side, with grudging respect towards them.

Rick realised something; he was their anchor. They would follow him. And this time, he would lead them better. 

Chapter Text

Tuesday, August 17th, 2010

The cruiser cut through the Georgia landscape that used to be so familiar and yet felt so foreign.

Rick sat behind the wheel, mind working faster than the tires could carry him, thinking of all the possibilities of their situation, their future.

Daryl sat on the passenger’s seat next to him, silent but not still - his knee bounced slightly, hands drumming against his legs, like his body hadn’t yet caught up with the truth that Rick was alive. Behind them, Merle followed in the Dixons’ battered truck, swerving just enough to make his mood known.

Merle, while he didn’t seem antagonistic, didn’t seem to like the fact that his brother clearly couldn’t let Rick out of his sight yet. But he didn’t try to stop him, and Rick didn’t know what Daryl had said to the man, but he had clearly said something . 

In the backseat of the cruiser, Michonne cradled Sophia, her arm around the girl’s shoulders, a soft hand brushing strands of hair away from her eyes. Sophia leaned into her despite not knowing Michonne, small and overwhelmed, and Michonne let her. 

The child had stopped crying by now, but she hadn’t started talking. Her fingers stayed clenched around her stuffed doll, white-knuckled, as if the seams might unravel if she let go. Rick understood - the last thing she probably remembered was dying at the hands of walkers, it must’ve been quite traumatising for a young girl like her.

“Everything’s alright,” Michonne said softly, just once, her voice low and even. “We’ve got you.”

She was good with children, truly. Daryl was, too, but Sophia was a sore spot for him, and he seemed to be too hyperfocused on Rick to comfort her. 

They pulled into the suburb and the house stood just as Rick had left it earlier. The porch steps were intact, the door still hung straight on its hinges. No blood on the siding, no broken glass or overgrown grass.

Rick didn’t think he would ever get used to it again.

He parked in the driveway and shut off the engine

Daryl leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “Feels wrong,” he muttered. “I dunno about ya, but such a pretty house don’t suit you.”

Rick nodded. “Too clean. Too much space, too many openings for attack.”

Behind them, Merle killed his engine and got out, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t bother waiting for an invitation. At least he didn’t seem to be too high at that moment. 

Rick stepped out, so did Daryl, who opened the door to the backseat. Michonne slid out first, then helped Sophia down gently. She blinked at the unfamiliar house, but still seemed to trust Rick, following them.

The front door opened before they reached it. Lori stood in the threshold, still in the same clothes from earlier, eyes tired but alert. Carl and Andre peeked out from behind her.

She locked eyes with Rick. Then with Michonne, Daryl. Then she saw Sophia.

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Sophia?” she whispered.

Then she noticed Merle, making her back away a few steps. Rick sighed. “We’ll explain everything. Just - let us come in.”

She stepped aside.

They entered the Grimes home like soldiers returning to a place they no longer trusted. Not yet. But it was shelter, and for now, it would hold. Though Merle didn’t come in, not yet, and Daryl seemed to be increasingly agitated, clutching his crossbow and keeping Rick in his sight at all times, prowling the perimeter of the living room like a watch dog, checking the blinds and the blanks Rick had nailed across the windows earlier. 

Rick led Sophia to the couch and watched as Lori sat beside her. Michonne took the other side, giving the girl her full attention. Rick went and grabbed himself a chair from the kitchen. Andre jumped to Michonne’s arms and Carl turned to Daryl, a smile on his face. 

It seemed to finally snap Daryl out of his tenseness, sighing. He walked up to Carl, patted him on the shoulder, then sat on the floor at Rick's feet, resting his crossbow against the chair he was sitting on, though never fully letting go of it. 

Carl snorted, not sitting. He seemed to be intent on keeping watch, especially if the rest of them talked. 

Merle, too, finally decided to show up, but he stayed by the wall, arms crossed, offering no help but making no noise either. He had that same look of unease he always wore when people talked about feelings too long.

Rick grabbed a notepad from the kitchen and came back, settling on his chair. He began scribbling names. 

Alive. Remembering : Rick, Shane, Carl, Lori, Michonne, Daryl, Merle, Carol, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Otis, Patricia, Andrea, Amy, Sophia.

“We know where everyone is. We can meet up. Though we need to get Carol out,” Daryl said, looking up at Rick. It was clear he missed her, too, and Daryl hadn’t even gotten to see her like the rest of them had. 

“She’s holding her ground,” Rick reassured him, placing a hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “She asked me to take care of Sophia. We’ll get her out soon, hopefully tomorrow.”

“She shouldn’t be alone,” Daryl muttered.

“She isn’t. Not really. She made her move, and now we make ours.”

The next names came slower.

Unknown/No contact: Morgan, Dale, T-Dog, Jacqui, Jim, Tyreese, Sasha, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene, Aaron, Eric, Deanna, Jesus, Gabriel, Tara… 

So many names. Not that they had even tried calling all of them, not really, and some of them were so far away. They needed to get to it. 

“What do you think it is based on?” Michonne asked, petting Andre’s hair. “He doesn’t remember. Sophia does, though.”

Rick thought about it, tilting his head. “Even if we haven’t gotten into contact with some, it seems to be everyone we interacted with. Maybe everyone who was in our group?”

Daryl snorted. 

“Then ya best add quite a few more people to that list. Hell, even Negan. Ya wanted to keep him alive, and I respect your decision, now, but he managed to weasel himself into a better position than just the prison cell.”

Rick looked at Daryl and Michonne, confused. Negan?

“What?”

Michonne sighed. 

“Since the bridge, after years of imprisonment, Negan was clearly acting differently. He… saved Judith, took down a group that was threatening ours, so on.”

What in the world had been going on in Alexandria after Rick got separated from them? He supposed that odder things had happened, but still. He remembered how hell-bent on killing Negan Maggie, even Daryl, had been. But Rick did suppose both of them had confirmed they now trusted his leadership, so something must’ve changed. 

Carl, hearing all of this, smiled a little. 

“You listened to me, dad? ”

Rick smiled faintly. 

“Yeah, son.”

So. Adding Negan to the list of people who could remember.

“You think he remembers?” Rick asked Daryl.

“If he does,” Daryl said quietly, “he won’t stay quiet long. Or maybe he will. Who knows.”

Rick looked to Daryl. “If he shows up, we deal with it. But we’re not going in looking for a fight - not yet.”

The room quieted. 

“So, is any of ya bastards gonna tell me who this Negan is?” Merle asked from the sidelines. Rick sighed. Right. Some of them, Merle and Lori, hadn’t even survived past the prison. 

“Someone who beat in Glenn’s head right in front of us and made us work for him afterwards, and…” Rick was going to say something about what Negan did to Daryl, but he didn’t think the man would’ve appreciated that. Daryl nodded at him gratefully. 

“The chinaman’s - sorry, the Korean’s head? And he still made ya his bitch? Damn, Friendly, and ya didn’t even bash his head in as a thank you?”

Rick tensed his jaw. “No. Because we were building a future, and we wanted to do it without more bloodshed. I am not going to shy away from that now, and we will be bathed in blood again, but then, when things were more peaceful, it made sense.”

“Sure, friendly. I am sure it was all kittens and rainbows and-”

Daryl, seemingly having had enough, stood up, walking up to his brother. 

“Ya shut yer damn mouth about him, Merle! Why do ya always have to be so damn difficult?” he growled. “Rick ain’t done nothing to you now and ya weren’t even there, you were rottin’ in the ground after I put ya down because you got yerself tangled with the governor.”

Merle was silent, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So don’t talk to him, don’t even look at him if ya are going to just disrespect ‘im. Ya know nothin’ of what we had to go through after ya checked out.”

Daryl walked back to Rick’s side, slumping down and resting his head on the chair, next to Rick’s thigh. Rick sighed, turning to Merle. 

“You really do know nothing about the circumstances, Merle. We have killed many more men than you, I am sure of it. Negan just had more manpower, and he had…” Daryl. Rick swallowed. “He had leverage. He could’ve killed us all, but he didn’t, and we did what we had to to survive.”

Lori crossed her arms, glancing between them, eyes settling on Rick

“You’ve all changed,” she said softly. “You talk like you’ve been through war.”

Right. Lori hadn’t even seen the governor, who had felt small compared to Negan. 

“We have,” Carl responded. “Multiple times. We are not the same as we were when we took the prison. People have tried to kill us, hurt us, and we have survived by ending them before they ended us. Father ripped out the throat of someone who tried to rape me, with his teeth. I machinegunned down armed men. We have all done things you never got to see.”

Lori’s expression fell.

They all moved closer together after that, not even consciously. Just... closer. Sophia fell asleep half-curled in Michonne’s lap, with Andre laying on her chest. Rick felt Daryl rest his head on his knee, and Carl took a hold of his hand, a comfort that Rick gave willingly. Even Merle, albeit an asshole, finally sat down on the floor. 

Rick looked around at them - at Michonne, at Carl, at Daryl. His people.

“We stay here tonight,” he said. “All of us. We keep watch in shifts. Tomorrow, we go to Hershel’s, I already told Maggie that.”

“You think Shane’s coming?” Daryl asked.

“If he remembers, he’ll try to come for Lori. Or Carl. Or me .”

Daryl nodded, a dark look in his eyes. “Then he won’t get close.”

They made the living room into a war camp by instinct.

Rick pulled out old blankets from the closet, Carl dragged pillows from upstairs. Daryl placed some blankets Rick brought on the windows for less visibility, even if they had already been nailed shut. Even Merle, grumbling the entire time, tossed down an old couch cushion on the floor like he was claiming his territory. None of them questioned it. No one went to their separate bedrooms. It wasn’t about comfort. It was about proximity, about keeping  eyes on each other at all times.

About not being alone.

Lori seemed to be the only one looking wide-eyed at everything going on. Sophia was too tired to care, still sleeping in Michonne’s lap, along with Andre. But Rick, Carl, Daryl, even Merle, they had been through a lot, and Lori didn’t seem to understand yet. She wasn’t trying to stop them, though, probably understanding that they knew better. 

Rick threw a blanket on the floor, Carl threw a few cushions on top of it, and when they laid down, it was more comfortable than they had been in a long time, because they all had each other back. It was better than any comfortable mattress.

Carl lay close to Rick - closer than he'd have ever allowed when he was that age the first time around. But now, it was different. He held Rick’s hand like a tether and Rick had no intention of letting go. 

Daryl didn’t sleep right away either, claiming the first watch. He lay with his front towards the entryway, boots on and crossbow within arm’s reach. Rick was on his back right next to him, with Daryl on one side, Carl on the other, and Rick put his free arm on Daryl’s side, knowing the other man probably needed the comfort of knowing Rick was there.

Daryl kept his eyes on the door for a long while, keeping watch, then let them drift to Rick. Rick, who was lying awake on the floor, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. 

They didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to. But the proximity was everything.

Lori clearly wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. She still looked like a woman who’d woken up in a dream and wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare. Her hands wouldn’t stop wringing each other, and she watched Merle with eyes full of suspicion and guilt. Even Daryl, despite what the man had done for them even by the time Lori had died. 

Still, Lori seemed to decide it was okay, and settled on the sofa next to Michonne. They had taken the sofa back to the living room after Michonne had arrived, and now there was instead a desk in front of the front door. 

Rick tried to sleep with one hand resting on Carl’s, other on Daryl’s side. Merle’s snoring didn’t help, neither did the fact that every time he blinked, he half expected to open his eyes to gunfire. Or herds rushing at them. Or the bat.

Midway through the night, Rick felt the blanket shift slightly and opened his eyes.

Daryl had turned to him, eyes soft. 

“Is it my turn to keep watch?” Rick asked. 

Daryl shook his head. “You need to sleep. Take care of yerself, so you can take care of us.”

Rick sighed, moving his arm from Daryl’s side, grabbing one of his hands in his own. 

“You noticed,” he said. Daryl snorted. 

“Always did. I can tell when yer awake,” he said. “Not that I don’t get it, hard to sleep when everything’s screamin’ at you. Feels like my head’s gonna split in half from all of it comin’ back.”

Rick looked at him for a long beat. “We survived it.”

“Yeah. But we didn’t walk out clean.” Daryl shifted his weight. “You remember the last time we saw each other? I’m sorry. Ya say it isn’t my fault, but I am sorry. I was a dick.”

Rick looked down. “The pit. The bridge.”

Daryl nodded. “I thought you were gone, man. Thought we were looking for somethin’ to bury. Now you’re sittin’ in your house like it’s still 2010 and the world ain’t about to fall apart again.”

Rick met his eyes. “It already fell apart. But now we get to build it better.”

There was something vulnerable in Daryl’s face. Raw.

“Ya sure ya didn’t miss this? The suburban life. I mean, ya had it in Alexandria, too.”

Rick tilted his head, clutching Daryl’s hand tighter. 

“It is normalcy. Some of that is good. But I get that I am not meant to have it, if I ever do, it will always be taken away. Last time, when I got used to it, it all came crashing down. First Negan, you got taken, Glenn got killed… then I was taken.”

Daryl’s eyes met his. 

“I ain’t ever gonna leave your side again, won’t let myself be taken,” he said finally. “Whatever we gotta do, I’m with you.”

Rick didn’t answer right away. He moved his hand from Daryl’s to the back of his neck and felt Daryl mirror him, pulling their foreheads together. 

“I need you,” Rick whispered. “By my side. You, turning against me like that, I- I can’t deal with it again.”

“I know. I won't."

They didn’t break the grip for a long time.

Eventually, Rick lay back down. Daryl stayed alert, keeping watch, knife in hand.

Finally, Rick got some sleep.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

Daryl sat outside, in the dark, a single porch light glowed dimly above him, casting a faint gold onto the railing and the wood beneath his boots.

He lit a cigarette out of habit, though he didn’t really want it. The paper burned slowly between his fingers, the smoke curling in lazy spirals that faded into the cold morning air.

Inside, the house was finally still. No more shifting, no more whispered conversations or muffled nightmares. He had quietly moved himself away from Rick, moved the desk from the front door and settled himself in front of it to continue his watch. 

Daryl hadn’t slept.

He didn’t plan to.

Daryl simultaneously felt so… wound tightly and relieved. He just couldn’t believe that he was back, right when it had started, and that Rick was alive. No matter how the other man tried to reassure him, Daryl’s body still seemed to be too stressed out about it all. 

Rick was alive. That was all that mattered at that point, really. He hadn’t even been shot, he was alive, and he wasn’t mad at Daryl even if he had every right to be. 

Daryl decided he didn’t even want to smell the cigarette smoke any longer, and put it out on his hand, rejoining other scars he already had. He was missing quite a few, but most were still there, hidden under his clothes which weren’t really any better than they had been during the outbreak. 

Daryl sighed. He felt almost like on that first day in Alexandria, when everyone else looked so clean and tidy and he was just… dirty, not fitting in. Even more, now, when they were actually in the past, the normal world. Daryl had never fit in there, and as dark as it was to say, he had thrived best in an apocalypse. 

Seeing Rick, clean-shaven and with his original police uniform, looking so young, was wild. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad look, but Daryl preferred the danger Rick had eminated during their time on the road, his beard and hair overgrown. The dark look in his eyes was the same, just…

Daryl remembered how they had first met, the antagonism there. Back then, everything had been so simple, and Rick had looked just as he did now, only slightly weaker with the coma and all. When Daryl looked at Rick, now, he could see the man who had held him down with Shane and pointed a gun to his head, even when Daryl knew he wasn’t the same. 

Hell, maybe Rick also saw him as the stupid hick that he used to be. 

Daryl sighed, shifting his crossbow a bit, hoping that none of Rick’s good and hardworking, honest neighbours saw him sitting with it. They’d probably call the cops on him, say some violent redneck was interrupting their perfect grey lives. 

Daryl knew it was unfair. His people deserved a normal life, it was just… Daryl wasn’t suited for it, and Rick hadn’t said that he didn’t miss a life like that. Daryl couldn’t help but worry about his own future, his place in their group, no matter the reassurances. If Rick wanted to once again settle down, play happy family with some blonde Alexandrian or Michonne, where did that leave him? Sure, he also had Merle, now, but he could only be tolerated in small doses-

The front door opened, Rick stalking out without a word, eyes dark. He had his boots on, a blanket still draped over his shoulders like a makeshift shawl and a knife in his hand, immediately relaxing when his eyes found Daryl.

Daryl didn’t say anything. Just gave him a small grunt of acknowledgment.

Rick took the spot next to him on the porch, settling onto the step with a long, quiet exhale. For a few minutes, they didn’t talk.

It was a familiar silence. Comfortable.

“You ever think we’d get this?” Rick asked eventually, his voice low, scratchy from sleep - or from everything else.

Daryl huffed through his nose. “Wha’, peace and sunrises on yer front porch?”

Rick gave a slight smile. “Something like that, yeah.”

Daryl flicked ash off the edge of the step, hoping Rick didn’t mind the fact. “No. I didn’t. I thought ya was dead. I thought I was never going to spend any time with you ever again.”

Rick nodded.

“I thought I lost everything, too,” Rick said. “I didn’t think anyone would ever know I lived. And I suppose they didn’t, then. Only now .”

A soft breeze rustled through the trees. Birds began to stir - just barely - chirping in some trees nearby.

“I ain't never had people,” Daryl muttered after a while. “Not really. Just Merle, and he was a bastard. But Carol and you, and Judith-”

Rick looked over.

“You were the first people who looked at me like I was worth somethin’,” Daryl said. “Like I mattered. Carol told me I was every bit as good as ya and Shane, back when I looked for her lil’ girl.”

“You are. Never doubt that,” Rick said, simple as breathing. “And you are better than Shane.”

“I know,” Daryl whispered, even though he wasn’t certain. “Now I know.”

“Better than me, too,” Rick continued, and Daryl shook his head immediately. No, he wasn’t better than Rick. Rick was such a good man, no matter any flaws he had. 

Rick set his knife down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at him intently. “You kept everything together when I was gone. I’ve heard what you did. For Judith. For the others.”

Daryl sighed. They had already had the conversation, and he wasn’t eager to hear any more false praises. Especially when the topic of lil’ asskicker hurt so bad. Because Judith was never going to exist now, was she?

She wasn’t dead. She was just… gone.

“I didn’t do enough.”

“You did more than anyone had a right to ask of you.”

Right. Daryl would do anything for the other man, he wouldn’t have even needed to ask.

“I thought about you every day,” Daryl admitted. “When we were walking. Fighting. Bleeding. I’d think, ‘Rick’d know what to do.’ Or, ‘Rick would’ve made this right.’”

Rick turned his head, watching him.

“And when we lost more people, and everything just started falling apart... I kept wonderin’ if ya would’ve let it get that bad.”

Rick’s voice cracked. “I would’ve tried. That’s all I ever did. But I am not perfect, I couldn’t have done everything better than you guys.”

“You kept us together,” Daryl said. “Even when you went insane, or feral.”

Rick chuckled, but there was no joy in it. “You remember that?”

“Can’t forget the time you started hallucinatin’ yer wife. When ya ripped a guy’s throat out with your teeth. And everything else ya did before Alexandria. I remember how ya said we weren’t a democracy anymore, and everyone was oh-so scared of ya.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. “You still kept following me.”

Of course, what else would Daryl have done? Gone after his crackhead brother again? He had looked for Merle, but he wouldn’t have risked his life - or the life of others - for him. 

“Ya did your best for us, even if ya went insane.”

Rick looked out at the street, to the stillness.

“Daryl, I-”

“You don’t gotta say it,” Daryl said, cutting him off. “I know.”

But Rick said it anyway.

“Thank you. For never giving up on me. For being by my side.”

Daryl nodded once. Then the front door opened again, making both of them turn around. Michonne stepped out, already dressed, already focused but smiling. 

“I was wondering where the two of you had disappeared,” Michonne said, sitting next to them. “Honestly, it was a time you actually communicated. There was too little of that back when you were having issues.”

Daryl looked down. He felt embarrassed by the way he had gone behind Rick’s back, plotted with Maggie, even if Rick said it was fine. He knew it wasn’t, and that it had truly hurt Rick, not knowing if Daryl really was on his side. 

“Yeah. Remember, Daryl, if anything bothers you, you can come talk to me. I won’t mind,” Rick said, firmly, before turning to Michonne. “What time is it?”

Michonne smiled. “Late enough for a judge to have approved the bail, first thing in the morning.”

Daryl looked up. “Carol?”

Michonne nodded. “I called the station. The judge signed it off. I’ll finish the paperwork when we get there, she’ll be waiting.”

Rick exhaled slowly. “Good. I’ll cover it.”

Michonne didn’t argue. “I know.”

They stayed there for a moment, not yet going inside. Three people who had been through war, death, hunger, and worse. 

Daryl looked at Rick and Michonne, people he thought were probably the closest to him in his life. Carol, too, now that Judith was gone… 

“You know, Daryl, Rick asked me yesterday whether or not we got together after the bridge,” Michonne said with a smirk, causing Rick to make a choking noise. Daryl turned to Rick. 

“Wha’, ya think I’m like yer great pal Shane, shacking up with yer partner the second that we think ya kicked the bucket even if we never saw ya dead?” he asked, incredulous. Rick shook his head. 

“Nah, man. You’re nothing like Shane. Shane… he he went crazy, he wanted Lori and Carl - and Judith - for himself, and only for himself, and he didn’t care about what the rest of us thought. What they thought,” Rick said calmly. “You? I know you already took care of my daughter like she was yours, because you truly care. And I know that, had I come back, if this was a scenario like Shane’s, you would never turn against me like that.”

Daryl shook his head. 

“This ain’t a scenario like Officer Dick.”

Rick smiled. 

“I know, Daryl,” Rick said, his hand on Daryl’s shoulder. “I know that. But if it had been, I would’ve been fine with that. It wouldn’t have changed our friendship, the partnership I feel towards both of you. That bond matters the most to me.”

Michonne swatted Rick in the head. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, or do you just like imagining me and Daryl together?” Michonne asked with a teasing tone. “Are you like Merle is about you and Daryl?”

Rick wasn’t. Merle didn’t mean half the things he said, and mostly he was being a derogatory asshat. Rick had meant every word, sincerely understanding of the possibility. 

“Right, we have to deal with him, too. I’m not sure Maggie and Glenn would be happy to see him at the farm, but I guess all of us have faced much worse than Merle at this point…” Rick picked up his knife, standing up. “We’ll swing by the station, get Carol, and head to the farm. We deal with everything else later.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, just nodded, relying on Rick the way he always had. A presence he could lean on without asking. Daryl knew how much of a burden being a leader was, and he was very glad for the fact that Rick chose to bear that burden for them all. 

“We have two cars, mine and Merle’s, though their truck has space in the back. I think Lori, Carl, Sophia, Andre, Michonne and me should take the cruiser on the way to the station. Daryl, I while I would like to keep you with us, I think you know how to best handle Merle,” Rick said, humming. “On the way to the farm, someone has to go with Daryl and Merle. Even with Andre sitting on someone’s lap, it is too little space in the cruiser…”

Rick turned to look at Daryl, who immediately hated the idea of letting his leader, his friend, out of sight, but knew he was going to do whatever the other man said. 

“Out of anyone, I honestly think Carl would handle being with you and Merle the best. Michonne, you need to stay with Andre, Carol needs to stay with Sophia, and Lori already dislikes Merle. Carl is mentally an adult, and he trusts you with his life, Daryl. I trust you with his life, too,” Rick emphasised, making Daryl nod. It was a good plan. That way, none of the actual kids had to be subjected to Merle’s antics.

“Yeah. I’ll keep him in line,” Daryl said, standing up. 

Michonne cracked a faint smile. “That’ll be the day.”

Daryl gave a half-snort but said nothing else. Rick clapped a hand briefly to his shoulder - a gesture that said more than words ever could.

“Let’s go get our people,” Rick said.

-

Rick pushed through the double doors of the police station with Michonne at his side. Daryl flanked them silently, his eyes scanning every corner, every person, having insisted on it despite having had to leave his crossbow behind. 

Rick knew that Daryl’s presence might have caused them more issues, with the general way he looked and behaved, but he also didn’t want to let him out of his sight, so he didn’t tell him not to come. Besides, Daryl probably wanted to see Carol more than anyone. 

The front desk officer barely looked up until Michonne pulled out her lawyer's credentials with the smooth detachment of someone who’d done this before.

“We’re here for Carol Peletier. Bail’s been approved. Paperwork should already be processed.”

The officer blinked, then started typing something on her computer, briefly glancing at their odd group. 

Rick stood perfectly still, but the tension hummed off him like a storm gathering. The front desk officer walked off to talk to some of the police in the station, who went to get Carol, and soon enough, there she was. 

No handcuffs, faded bruises. Just poised, like she'd been waiting for this moment her whole life.

“Rick,” she said, quietly.

He stepped forward. No words. He simply pulled her into a firm, steady hug, holding the back of her head like a soldier welcoming one of his own. 

“Glad you're back,” he murmured.

“Glad you came,” she replied.

Michonne stepped in then, brief but strong. “I told you we’d come,” she said to Carol.

Carol gave a curt nod. “And I knew you would.”

“Now, ya need to pay the bail, first,” one of the officers said. Rick nodded, walking to the front desk with his payment details. He noticed the way the officers looked at him oddly, like they couldn’t understand what he was doing with the group of people he was with. Or maybe they sensed there was something wrong with him.

After paying the bail, Rick turned back to his people, and noticed Daryl staring cautiously at Carol. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t moved. Just took her in like he wasn’t sure she was real.

“Hey, Pookie,” she said softly, the faintest smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “You gonna say something or just brood at me like an alley cat?”

Daryl didn’t answer right away. He looked at her like he was still trying to convince himself she was real.

“You remember?” 

Carol nodded slowly. “All of it.”

She took a step toward him, and another, until there was just a few feet between them.

And then, gently, with a mix of mischief and affection only she could pull off, she added: “Missed you, Daryl.”

That clearly broke him.

Rick watched as Daryl’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, more like pain trying to become something softer. His arms dropped to his sides. He blinked fast, then stepped forward in one movement and pulled Carol into him. 

Carol wrapped her arms around him and squeezed just as hard. 

Behind them, Rick looked away, letting them have the moment. They needed it.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

The truck rumbled to a slow stop on the familiar gravel driveway. The farmhouse stood solid, the barn yet to be filled with walkers. 

Rick’s hand tightened on the steering wheel as he stared at the place he hadn’t thought he’d see again - not like this, with everyone alive and breathing. With Lori, sitting beside him, looking close to tears. 

Rick stepped out of the cruiser first, eyes sweeping over the yard. “This is it,” he said, voice low but firm. “Home.”

Daryl got out of the truck, same as Carl, and walked to stand close to Rick. Michonne, carrying Andre, glanced around the place curiously. Rick had to remind himself that she had never actually gotten to see the place, she had only joined them at the prison. 

Neither had Merle, he supposed.

Sophia clung tightly to Carol’s hand as they climbed down from the vehicle, too. Lori followed suit, walking up to Carl and holding him close, probably more as a comfort to her than their son. 

Rick started walking towards the farm, determination clear in his eyes. Then, opening the doors, a figure appeared.

Glenn.

His eyes widened when he saw Rick, and for a moment he seemed frozen - like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

Rick stepped forward, arms open.

“Glenn,” he breathed. 

Glenn ran the last few feet and dropped into Rick’s arms, his grip fierce and trembling. “You’re really here.”

Rick held Glenn close, the sharp ache that his death had left him with lessening with each passing moment. 

“I am sorry,” Rick said calmly, looking Glenn firmly in the eye. “I was supposed to lead you, and you got killed because of my decisions.”

Glenn shook his head. “No. No, Rick- no. You did your best.”

Behind Glenn, Maggie hurried forward, tears rising to the surface as she took in Rick’s face, younger than Maggie had ever seen it. 

“Rick,” she whispered, voice thick. “You’re alive.”

Rick let go of Glenn, turning to Maggie, grabbing her into a hug as well. He knew she probably needed the reassurance, and he needed it too - after all, Maggie had gone against him, come up with an elaborate plan to distract him in order to kill Negan. 

While Rick didn’t hold a grudge, he needed to be able to trust Maggie again, as a member of his group. He had no doubts about Daryl, the man had been sincere in all their conversations and he was loyal to a fault, but he hadn’t talked with Maggie enough to know for sure, despite her promises to follow him from that point forward. 

“I am. I am alive, and I will stay alive,” Rick said. “And from now on, we will communicate openly among us. If you are so angry about something, don’t go against me behind my back, just tell me.”

Maggie looked him head-on before nodding once, firmly. Rick took that as a good sign, moving on to someone else he had really wanted to see. 

Hershel. 

He approached them, eyes glistening with moisture as he walked up to the group.

“Rick,” Hershel said, voice steady but soft. “It’s good to see you.”

Rick bent slightly, shaking Hershel’s hand with respect and warmth. “You too, Hershel.”

Hershel clapped his hand on Rick’s back and Rick did the same to him, their eyes meeting in unspoken communication. 

Hershel had died pretty early on, Rick had lived long after him. Hershel knew that, too, and Rick supposed that the older man was probably also trying to assess what kind of man he had become. The look in Rick’s eyes must’ve shown something he approved of, as he let Rick go, turning to look at the rest of his group. 

As they began to circle closer, a sudden, sharp sound - footsteps pounding - brought everyone’s attention to the far side of the barn.

Beth appeared, breathless, eyes wide. Her gaze locked on one figure standing quietly on Rick’s side - Daryl.

Without hesitation, Beth broke into a run, her arms outstretched. She looked so young, now. Rick believed that at this time, she was only sixteen, and she looked like a little girl in her sundress. It was an odd thing, really.

“Daryl!” she called. 

He didn’t move at first, his rugged face softened only by the shock of seeing her again.

“Beth,” he said low, voice rough.

She reached him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, squeezing as if afraid he’d disappear again.

Daryl hugged her back just as fiercely. “Ya were dead, girl. Why couldn’t ya just let us handle things?”

Beth smiled, shaking her head. “It isn’t your fault, none of yours.”

“This time, ya don’t go get yerself taken by any crazies and you don’t stab anyone unless ya are sure they won’t put a bullet in yer head,” Daryl scolded her. Beth didn’t seem to mind, just smiling. 

The reunions lasted for some time longer - people talking with each other, getting reacquainted. It was hard to watch the way Daryl reacted to seeing Glenn, whose death he had blamed on himself, even when Glenn immediately tried to reassure Daryl that it wasn’t his fault. Rick knew convincing Daryl wasn’t so easy, but he hoped that the words at least helped. 

At least Merle had the grace to hang in the Dixon truck, not interrupting the reunion before everyone had already gotten the worst of emotions out of the way, and even then, he just walked to stand quietly at the edge of the group. Rick thought that he probably wanted to be an asshole, but didn’t dare to, with so many people present who could kick his ass. 

When things started settling down - luckily with only some hateful glances towards Merle from Maggie and Glenn - Rick raised his voice, calm but commanding.

“Everyone, listen up. We’re together now. We’ve been through hell, and there’s more to come, but we stick together ,” he started, knowing that he didn’t need to make some grandiose speech. The people there were his inner circle, those whom he trusted the most, felt the closest to. But he did still want to reassure them, talk to them, like he had done in the prison, when he had told them he wasn’t their governor. 

Rick looked at Daryl, standing by his side, eyes intent. Michonne, with little Andre Anthony. Carol, with Sophia. Lori, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel…

“We don’t know how we are here, but we won’t waste this second chance. We need to plan, to prepare. From what I have been told, the outbreak started only a few weeks after I got shot, which should’ve happened yesterday, so we only have little time to prepare, but we will make the most out of it,” Rick said. “We will survive, and we will look for the others in our group, those who might remember, still.”

He looked at each person, the weight of leadership settling on back him. It hadn’t felt real, not really, until now, once again standing at the centre of a group, talking to them. 

“You are all my people and I will do anything to protect us,” Rick said. “While I have ideas on what to do, I think that we need to hear everyone. Maybe go inside, talk about everything we need to plan for, the supplies we need to get, make a division of labor.”

Rick turned to look at Hershel. “This is still your farm. You think inside would be a good place to gather, or?”

Hershel smiled. 

“That, or the barn. This time, it is empty.”

Rick nodded. “Any questions?” 

The group gathered inside the barn, the scent of hay and earth filling the space like a comforting blanket. Rick assessed it, already having many ideas on what to use the empty space for. They could stack their supplies there - canned food, guns and ammo, other weapons, like a huge stack of arrows for Daryl in case he lost or broke his own, even though Rick knew the man was more than capable of making new ones. 

Hershel’s farm was in many ways perfect for an apocalypse. If they could secure the well, this time, so no walker could even think about getting close to it, they would have plenty of water. And if that didn’t work, there were bodies of water around, such as the one Daryl had told them he had fallen into. And, since it was an actual farm they could grow crops, perhaps have some healthy animals this time around. 

If they stayed at the farm, that is. For that to happen, they would have the need to reinforce it better before the outbreak started, in just a few weeks, since people like Randall and his group, or even Shane, were a danger alongside the walkers. And even then, the herd that had taken them last time could be too much of a challenge. 

Could they take that risk?

Rick stood by a worn wooden “table” - a wooden door placed on top of some tires -, smoothing out a rough map of the surrounding area that Hershel had given him. His voice was steady and full of purpose. “First things first - our long-term plan. Last time, the farm was overrun by a herd in late autumn, right before winter. It’s now August, so that’d give us three to four months, here, unless we reinforce the area significantly.”

Rick looked to Hershel, and he already knew the older man probably wished they could stay there indefinitely. 

“There’s the prison, of course, but since we don’t know who remembers, there’s a chance that the governor does, and taking that risk…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “There’s also the possibility of Alexandria, I suppose. Based on the timeline, they must’ve been relatively secure for nearly two years before the situation escalated with the saviours. And if Deanna remembers, she will be securing the place much better, most likely. And she has the power to do that, as a congressman.”

Rick noticed the way Maggie visibly tensed. 

“Of course, there are issues with that, too. We don’t know how Deanna would react to us the second time around. And even if Negan doesn’t form the saviours, there are still the wolves. And at this very moment, Alexandria doesn’t even exst, since they built the walls after the outbreak.”

Rick thought that, out of the places they had been to in their past lives, those were really the only options, but they all had some issues. Technically there was also the Civic republic, that had been one of the most secure places Rick had ever seen, in some ways, but that would be putting them all under the CRM, and Rick had had enough about it. As the others didn’t even know about it, he wasn’t going to mention it. 

“What about the CDC?” Lori asked softly. “What if Dr. Jenner remembers, and is already working on a cure? What if the outbreak won’t even…”

Rick sighed.

“There’s no stopping the outbreak, no way to counteract it. Last time, Jenner was no closer to a cure after at least a few months of research, I don’t think he could do it in just a few weeks, now, even if he had other scientists to help. Even then, all of humanity got infected - even if they figured out a cure in order to truly stop the outbreak, it would have to be administered to everyone, and that isn’t possible,” he stated firmly. 

“Well, even then, the CDC was safe, with food, running water, all of that, for those few months into the apocalypse,” Lori said. “Only a little less time than the farm. We would be safe.”

“What is safe, anymore?” Carol asked Lori. “Last time, we almost died there. Even if we figured out a way to get more fuel for the facility, it is only temporary. We need something permanent.”

Rick mused about it for a moment. “But we can still contact Jenner. I assume his wife, too, is still alive, so he must have will to live. If he remembers, we can persuade him to come with us.  Maybe he could also bring most supplies from there with him, if he truly came. A lot of medicine, for one. And perhaps some day in the future, somewhere, he can further work on the cure.”

Rick refused think about the Civic Republic and how huge they were, certainly having efforts to create a cure. 

“I think we should also look into the possibility of other places, completely new to us. There are many good options out there, and if we plan ahead now, we could take them once the laws no longer matter. And these places could even be really far away, since we still have fully working cars, gas stations. Hell, we could even go to a whole other country, since airplanes are still flying…,” Rick stated, thinking of it.

Daryl snorted. “Ya won’t believe this shit, but I actually wound up in fucking France.” 

What?

“How the fuck did you get past the fucking Atlantic Ocean in an apocalypse?”

“Heck if I know. It was a ship, sure, but I dunno why, they just took me.”

Rick supposed it wasn’t the most outlandish thing he had heard. Daryl getting kidnapped by some random people and taken to France abroad a ship was on the same level of believability as Rick getting kidnapped by some random people and taken to a fully functional city with a helicopter - during the apocalypse. 

“Greenland could work. Very little people, and zombies freeze in cold weather, too. It would be hard, but people have survived there before all this. Or Iceland, they probably have more infrastructure,” Carol said. “We could make it work.”

Right. 

“What about all the supplies we might need? Guns, weapons? Medication, medical equipment. We can’t get anything past the airport, and then we’d be stranded in some island with nothing to work with,” Maggie said softly. “I think Canada, after the outbreak, would be more realistic. Going up there, no border control anymore. It would be colder, too, but we’d have our supplies.”

That was indeed a better plan. Still…

“I think we should, at first, stay here. We know this place, the surrounding area, the possible threats, and it is enough for how many of us are here now,” Rick stated. “This time, we won’t make any rushed decisions, jump to danger needlessly. We can work on a better plan as we go, but we need to have something to rely on in the meanwhile, and the farm could work as that.”

Rick looked to his people, wanting to see their reactions. When there were no clear objections, he continued. 

“And if we want to stay, we secure the farm. We need stronger fences, better watch shifts, weapons ready everywhere. No surprises. A watch tower would be ideal, like in Alexandria, but we can’t get everything.”

Daryl leaned against the far wall, eyes sharp and alert. Merle stood nearby, arms crossed, watching everything with a skeptical edge but clearly engaged enough to be at least somewhat useful. 

Rick pointed at the map. “We’ll fortify the perimeter with something - if we stay. Alexandria managed to build a fence during the outbreak, so I am not too worried of immediate danger, but they also didn’t face any hostile humans. We need something to use to build a bigger, stronger fence, though.”

Rick turned to Hershel, handing him the map. 

“You take that. Draw a line around the area you think will be enough land for us to farm on. Obviously with the farm, the barn, the well and all other infrastructure inside of it,” Rick stated. “Does anyone know anything about construction? Deanna did show some of us the blueprints, but there isn’t an unfinished mall anywhere this far in the countryside. We need to figure out what to use, how.”

Glenn cleared his throat. 

“We haven’t gotten in contact with Jacqui yet, have we?” he asked. “She told us, back in Atlanta, she worked in the city’s zoning department.”

Michonne’s eyes lit up. “So, she could possibly issue permits for construction, right? And other land-use activities. She would have to also have a lot of knowledge of infrastructure due to her job. Urban planning and all that. That’d be very helpful.”

“Unfortunately, she probably didn’t have the best mindset when she died. I mean, she chose to die,” Carol said. “Who knows if she would even want to connect with any of us.”

“We need to try,” Rick said firmly. “She seems to be our best shot at figuring the reinforcement of the farm smoothly. Though if we don’t get in contact with her easily, then we work something out. All of us are capable, and we will make it work. We can find materials somewhere, buy them. Max out our credit cards since money won’t matter soon enough.”

Rick turned back to Hershel. 

“Speaking of which; you and Beth have most knowledge we have of medication and medical equipment that might be needed. It could get expensive, but we can afford it. Make a full list of everything you think we could possibly need, and we will get it. Stockpile it here, perhaps. The next time one of us gets shot, we won’t have to make a desperate supply run to a high school.”

Hershel nodded, understanding. 

Rick turned to Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne. “You three handle other supplies, you will be the best at it. Michonne and Maggie have been leaders of communities, or at least contributed to leading, so they know what to do, and Glenn, you used to do most supply runs for us, so you do too. Take inventory, figure out what we need to stock. Food, weapons, all of it. We get the money, and in the next weeks, we have time to gather everything.”

Michonne’s eyes met Maggie’s briefly, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Glenn nodded, too, still eager to listen to Rick’s orders.

“Me and Daryl can also go look for weapons, some specific ones we might need,” Rick said, turning to Daryl. “Michonne, you too, if you want possible replacements for the katana, if something might happen to it. And anyone can, of course, go buy some on their own when they aren’t working on something else. The important thing is to just not look too suspicious before things go to shit - the worst case scenario would be a police raid due to suspicion right before the outbreak and them taking all the weapons.”

Rick hummed, thinking of other things. 

“Now, even if we don’t yet have proper ideas for the fence, we can do other things to reinforce the farm. Daryl, Merle and maybe Otis, you can work with me on that. Carl, too, if you want. I know you’d probably rather come looking at weapons, but…” Rick trailed off.

Carl sighed. “But it probably wouldn’t be a good look, dragging a kid my age to a gun shop.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. But regarding the farm - we need to figure out a way to secure the well, perhaps making a proper cover for it, or a fence just for it, so no walkers can get in this time. Me, Daryl and Merle can also go hack up some trees in the forest, gather up firefood, just in case the weather gets colder, or if we want to try spending the winter here. Fix any weak spots in that current fence, put up stuff that makes sound in case someone tries approaching. So on.”

Daryl nodded, voice low and certain. “Got it.”

Merle just grunted something. Rick turned to Carol.

“Carol, you are clever and you lived for longer than most of us, and you were with us from the start. I’ll give you my access codes to the police database, and you can also search the internet, but I want you to look for others from our group, that you remember. Getting in contact with the people we know should be a priority, after all. Those who came later, but also Jacqui, the Jenners, so on,” Rick said. 

“There are so many that aren’t here,” Maggie said softly. 

“And we don’t know if they remember, but if they do, they could be really helpful to us,” Rick stated. Finally, he turned to Lori, feeling a bit quilty about it. “I know you… well. Don’t probably like the idea, but I want you to watch the kids. Sophia, Andre - whenever Carol and Michonne aren’t available. And also help around the house in general. I know you are capable in other ways, but I think you would suit that job the best. Same with Patricia.”

Lori gave a gentle smile, though her eyes were tired, clearly noticing how Carl wasn’t included in the kids and probably still thinking of how easily Rick had dismissed the possibility of a cure. “We’ll protect them.”

Rick folded his hands, the weight of leadership pressing on his shoulders. “This is just the beginning. Even if we don’t stay here long-term, gathering supplies is useful while we work on a better plan. We will be ready - for whatever comes next.”

They would have to be.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

After the organisation of everyone, Rick went to do something he should have already done earlier - something he had never gotten the chance to do in their past lives.

He spotted Otis by the edge of the barn. Alive, now. Like so many others.

Rick had only known him for a few moments, the last time, which had been filled with accusations about the man shooting Carl. And while the man had been the one to shoot him, he had also played a huge role in saving his life, only to lose his own in the process, dying for a child he didn’t even know. 

While he wasn’t someone Rick often considered, he did need to talk to him. 

Rick walked over, boots crunching gravel. Otis looked up when he heard the steps.

“Otis,” Rick replied quietly. He stopped a few feet away and rested his hands on his belt. “Mind if I talk to you for a second?”

Otis squinted at him, then nodded. “Course.”

Rick was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the field, then dropping to his boots before he finally looked Otis in the eye.

“I never got to thank you,” Rick said. “For what you did. For Carl. And you lost your life for that.”

Otis blinked. “I… I only did what anyone would’ve-”

“No,” Rick interrupted, firm but gentle. “You didn’t. You did more. You ran into danger, risked your life, to get what Hershel needed to save my boy. You didn’t hesitate, for people you didn’t even know. Even if you were the one who shot him, in the world we live in, that wouldn’t have made you any more obligated to help.”

Otis shifted uncomfortably but didn’t look away.

“I know,” Rick continued. “I know what happened. What Shane did. We started suspecting him and he told me, later.”

Otis went still, all motion stopped. His throat worked silently for a second.

“I always wondered if it’d go down different, if I’d been faster, smarter…”

Rick shook his head. “None of it was on you. None. Shane… he made his choice. He wanted to survive more than he wanted to protect anyone. And I need you to know - I know what happened out there. He murdered you. Even if it was to save Carl’s life, he stabbed you in the back.”

Rick didn’t say that he wouldn’t have done the same. He didn’t think he would have, then, but there had been points in his life where he would have done it as soon as things started going south.

Otis looked at him, something flickering in his eyes. Not surprise - just grief. The kind that never got to settle because it was cut short too soon.

Rick stepped forward. “I killed Shane, not long after. When it was clear who he’d become. I did it to protect my family. I did it because he’d already gone too far.”

He let that sink in.

“And Carl,” Rick said, voice softer now, “Carl lived. Years. Grew up. He fought for people, he became a better man than me. Because of what you did, Otis. You gave him a chance. You gave me a chance to be a father for him for a little longer. Thank you.”

Otis swallowed hard. 

“I didn’t know,” he said. “I figured I died. I felt it… then I was here again. Just like nothin’ happened. And I think… everyone moved on, and nobody really talked about that. I wanted to ask, but everyone had so much more… important stuff to talk about.”

Rick gave a slight nod. “Everything happened. But we’re here now. And I just… needed to say it. You deserved better than what happened. You deserved the truth. And you deserve to know that what you did mattered .”

Otis gave a small, broken smile. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”

Rick extended his hand. Otis took it, thick fingers curling around Rick’s in a firm shake.

-

By late afternoon, the farm buzzed with coordinated movement. Not chaos - but purpose.

Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne packed up one of the trucks that was available on Hershel’s farm, as well as the Dixons’ truck, no matter how much Merle had grumbled about it. 

“We’ll be back before sundown,” Glenn said, climbing into the driver’s seat of Hershel’s truck. “Just gonna hit a few spots we remember from back then - pharmacies first, based on the list Hershel gave us. Food, that’s something you can even hunt yourself, but the meds?”

Rick nodded. “Keep your heads down. Don’t assume no one remembers you just because you don’t recognise them. And don’t be too suspicious about the meds you get, otherwise someone will think we are cooking up drugs.”

Glenn saluted with two fingers, walking off.

Speaking of him, Daryl and Merle had taken the far end of the property, walking the perimeter with a few bundles of scrap fencing and wire. They didn’t talk much, but the way they moved in sync made it clear they were capable of actually functioning as a unit - even though Rick could hear Merle’s quips and Daryl’s annoyed grumbles. 

Inside the house, Hershel had spread out old medical books across the table, along with the map, working on the tasks Rick had given him. While he had already written a list of basic meds that one could buy over the counter, there was still a lot else they needed medical-wise-

“Rick,” Carol said, quietly approaching him, kneeling on the porch and cleaning his gun. He looked up, surprised by the directness in her voice. Her eyes were sharp, calculating.

She stepped closer and crouched beside him. “I’ve been thinking. We shouldn’t stay in Georgia.”

Rick raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He looked around them, noting that Carol had chosen to catch him alone.

“We’ve got maybe two weeks before it starts. If that,” Carol continued. “We know what’s coming. The herds. The sickness. All of it. And worse - we know exactly where it's all heading.”

Rick’s jaw tightened, but he listened.

Carol lowered her voice. “Alexandria exists. Or it will. And if we move now, we can take it before the world even notices. Build it properly. We know what worked, what didn’t.”

Rick glanced around the farm, watching his people work. “Have you contacted Deanna, then? Or Aaron, or someone else from there. We don’t know who remembers, and we wouldn’t want to walk into a trap.”

“Exactly,” she interrupted. “We don’t know. But that goes both ways. Negan might remember. Or not. The Saviors? They haven’t had time to form. If he does remember, I know how to work with him. If he doesn’t, we don’t give them the chance,” Her eyes locked with Rick’s. “You don’t have to like it. But Rick, staying on this farm when we could have a proper place, a permanent one. Alexandria never truly fell.”

Rick’s expression tightened. “I don’t know if Deanna would appreciate us being there, again. From her perspective, the last time, everything started going to shit once we arrived. And if she doesn’t even remember, she would only see our way of doing things as savage.”

Carol smiled. 

“We are strong. Stronger than any of her people. You could take over without issue, Rick,” she stated. “I know you liked it, too. And you deserve to have a proper community to lead.”

Rick tilted his head, standing up. “Carol, are you trying to convince me with compliments?”

Carol sighed. “Look, Rick. Do you really want to go through it all over again?”

“No,” Rick stated. “But Alexandria might not be the solution. I know we would be able to easily take it - and we will, if it becomes necessary. I would do anything to keep you people safe. But we can be safe without it, now.”

She softened her voice. “You’re right. But we could make it what it was meant to be, Rick. It’s not conquest - it’s preparation. Any other place we were at fell, Alexandria didn’t. I guess there are places that are more fortified, like the Commonwealth, but…”

Commonwealth didn’t sound good. Rick knew the types of places with such pretentious names. 

“Like the Civic Republic," he said, turning to look at Carol. “There’s another reason why I don’t know if going to Alexandria is a good idea. The closer we get to all of that, the closer we are to everything there that was a danger to us, including the Civic Repuclic. They are the ones that took me-”

Behind them, someone shifted. Rick turned around, fast, gun in his hand. 

Maggie.

“No,” she said, cold and direct.

Rick stood.

Maggie’s hands were shaking at her sides. “You’re talking about going to Alexandria early, staking it out like we own it? Working with Negan, Carol? You think he won’t become what he was?”

Carol turned to face her. “If he remembers, it won’t play out the same way. I knew how to handle him when the time came. And you also worked with him.”

“Yeah, maybe I did. And he is reasonable enough to not hunt us down here, but if we go back there? You know, he told me that if he could have done it all over again, he would have killed every single one of us.”

Well, that was something Rick hadn’t been told, when he had been given information on Negan’s development. 

Rick stepped between them, voice calm but forceful. “Enough.”

The silence stretched.

“I get where both of you are coming from,” Rick said. “And I’m not dismissing anything. But we need to move smart - not fast. We’re not leaving the farm today, not tomorrow. We secure this place first, think about the future later.”

Carol exhaled slowly and nodded. Maggie didn’t answer, but the look in her eyes said this wasn’t over as she walked off to the truck where Glenn was at. 

Rick turned to look at Carol, tilting his head. 

“I know that sounds bad,” Carol said. “But I don’t think he actually would be a danger to us.”

Rick nodded, trusting Carol’s judgement on at least that.  

During the rest of the day, Rick decided to work with Carol on figuring out ways to contact others in their group. They first tried calling Deanna - as a congressman, contact information was readily available online, but either she was busy or didn’t want to talk to anyone, because they didn’t get in contact with her. Rick had a feeling something was going on with her.

They found Aaron’s number from the website of the NGO he worked for, but there was no answer to that either. Just static and silence. 

“If he remembers, he’s not answering,” Carol said. “Or he doesn’t have his phone, now.”

They found Jenner’s number from CDC’s website, but apparently he was also busy - no answer. It was very much starting to frustrate Rick, and the worst blow was when they looked for people through the police database and found a file about a suicide from the previous day, of Jacqui.

So, that was a dead end. 

“We could always try contacting Morgan again. He built the jail cell in Alexandria, maybe he knows how to build a fence, too,” Carol said. 

Rick was about to say something to that, when Daryl walked in with Merle, hands dirty from fence work.

“The fence is patched for now,” Daryl reported. “We’ve still got some blind spots, though.”

Carol crossed his arms. “You think all this matters if Shane shows up again? He already pointed a gun at Rick. Again .”

That thought lingered.

Shane.

Still missing since the confrontation in the cruiser - no word from the Sheriff’s station, even when Rick had called to use all his vacation days. Nobody had seen him. 

“He knows where we live,” Rick murmured.

“Knows the farm too,” Daryl added. “Knew it back then.”

“And he’s not the only one,” Carol said quietly. “What about Randall? Or any of the others we crossed before things really went to hell?”

“This time,” Rick said softly, “we do it better-”

Someone was calling Rick’s phone, the one they had been using to try and call the others. Rick immediately leaped to the chance, hoping that one of the people they had called was calling back, answering. 

It was a familiar voice, though not any of the ones he had expected. 

“Hello, Rick!” 

Chapter Text

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

“How did you get this number?” Rick asked, his hand gripping the phone tightly, the other pressed against his forehead. 

“Well, hell, a bit of politeness, please! It only took a bit of persuasion when I called your sheriff’s department, but I got your number there. I told them a lovely sob story about how you and I were high school buddies, how we had lost contact some time ago. Talked about the little serial killer, stuff like that, so they believed me. And how surprised I was to hear that you had taken a vacation!”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling his blood pressure rising. He had not wanted to deal with Negan on the perfectly fine day they were having.

“What do you want?”

“Hey, Rick, no need to be so hostile, you know I am now an upstanding citizen of your community,” Negan said. “You know, when I woke up, I thought I could ride this out with Lucille - the wife, not the bat - , in peace. Then start out the saviours, deal with you when the time comes, so on, because I thought I was the only one who remembered. Lucille sure as shit doesn’t.”

Lucille? A wife? That’s what the bat was named after? 

“But then, my dearest former homicidal right-hand man Simon appeared in front of the school I teach at, a gun in hand, and started blasting at me. Honestly, becoming a school shooter just for me? I would be honoured, if he hadn’t gotten a few kids from my gym class killed in the process, before I knocked him out. That’s when I realised I better get my shitting pants on, because if he knew, my other saviours and everyone I Lucille’d probably know too, and I don’t think I was the best-liked among them.”

Teaching a gym class? How could a teacher become so… well. 

Negan did have a good point - if Simon knew, then it was natural to assume the others knew too, and that was an issue, considering how many of them Rick and his group had also killed. There was bound to be quite a bit of resentment building there. 

One more point to not going towards Alexandria. Most saviours knew the location, and if they held a grudge against them, Rick didn’t want to deal with that. 

“I still didn’t get what you want from us,” he quipped. 

“Rick…” Negan started, trailing off with a sigh. “I know we weren’t ever on the best of terms, but despite whatever I did, the past few years of my life, I spent among your community, your people, working alongside them in relative peace. I know nobody was probably too fond of me, but those are the people I have come to know as my people, too. Not the saviours.”

Rick turned to look at Carol, raising an eyebrow. She nodded pointedly, clearly noting that, as she had said, she could handle Negan. 

“Now, if it was just me, I would suck it up, but I realise that if people are after me, Lucille would very easily get caught in the crossfire. She, by the way, thinks I got a mental break from the assassination attempt,” Negan said with dry humour. “So, while I knew it was far-fetched, I couldn’t really think of any other people to turn to. I can behave, for her, and I have been behaving for years either way.”

“You know that we have people who hate you with us. Hell, Glenn is with us. You really think your presence here would fly?” Rick asked, seriously. “Negan, I know you aren’t delusional. Do you honestly think that would work?”

Negan exhaled on the phone. 

“I know what I did, Rick. To Maggie’s husband, to the redhead, to you all. I know. And I managed to live with your people afterwards, still,” he stated. “I know it is far-fetched. I am not delusional. I don't know if I'd be calling if I didn’t have Lucille to think about - probably, considering I have come to like some of you, but let's not dwell on that. Lucille already has cancer, I am not going to let her be even more vulnerable because of the people that want me dead.”

Rick really didn’t want to be dealing with such a decision, especially with how angry Maggie had already been about the very possibility of going anywhere near Negan, and he decided to hand the phone over to Carol. If she said she could handle Negan, she could handle the phone call, and he could decide later, after listening to the group, what to do with the situation. 

Daryl looked pretty pissed off about the whole thing too, though not as severely as Maggie. And Daryl also had a right to be mad about it - every fucking right, considering what Negan had done to him. But Rick didn’t know how the two had interacted after he had been taken, so he supposed he couldn’t really judge the situation properly. 

He needed to listen to his people. “How much of that did you hear?”

Daryl stepped forward, the weight of his boots solid on the floorboards. “All of it.”

Rick faced him. “So, what do you think?”

Daryl shrugged, but his arms were crossed tight. His eyes weren’t calm. “Ain’t my favorite voice to hear again.”

Rick managed a dry laugh. “Mine neither.”

They stood there for a long moment, both thinking of everything Negan had done to them. Then Daryl spoke again, voice low.

“He ain’t who he was,” Daryl admitted. “But that don’t mean people’re gonna forget who he was either. Not Glenn. Not Maggie. Not me, some days.”

Rick nodded, jaw tight. “I know.”

“He was good to Judith,” Daryl added, almost reluctantly. “Helped out. Didn’t have to. Didn’t ask for nothin’. Saved her, n’ my dog from a blizzard. Protected this kid, Lydia. Killed the leader of a group tha’ was after us. Didn’t kill me when he had the chance. Don’t excuse all the other shit he did before, but he didn’t have to do any of that.”

Coming from Daryl, that was high praise. 

Rick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to make that call. Not alone. Last I saw him, he was in a cell. I know nothing of what he did afterwards.”

Daryl uncrossed his arms. “You won’t have to make it alone.”

Rick looked up at him. There was something about seeing Daryl’s face that made it easier to breathe. In that moment, Rick was reminded why Daryl had always been the one person he could stand next to and feel steady.

“Carol said she could handle him,” Rick muttered.

“She can,” Daryl said without hesitation. “Negan don’t scare her. He respects her, I think.”

Rick met Daryl’s eyes. “You think he deserves a shot?”

“I am not one to make decisions. I don’t want to,” Daryl said. “But if he keeps his head down, don’t cause trouble… I ain’t gonna be the one to shoot him on sight. Someone else might, though. And he thinks of himself as the alpha, I suppose, when it is you who is in charge. He could cause issues, having to defer to you.”

Rick nodded slowly. “I guess I will have to think on it.”

Daryl’s gaze shifted toward the front window, where the light outside was beginning to dim. Long orange shadows stretched across the grass.

“You gonna tell Maggie?”

Rick grimaced. “Not yet. Let Carol talk to him first. Get the full picture. And they are still out buying supplies, so.”

“Fair.”

Rick definitely wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. It had been bad enough, when he had first decided to spare Negan’s life. Now, telling Maggie he was alive, and the fact that they would even consider letting them in their midst? Rick didn’t like the idea at all either. 

Letting Negan anywhere near Carl again? What about the rest of the vulnerable people in their group? Rick really didn’t know what kind of a man Negan was now, how Lucille possibly affected things, and he didn’t know if he could be certain of any of it. 

-

“Hi, Negan,” Carol said with a small smile dancing on her lips. 

“Well damn,” Negan’s voice said on the other end, with that same drawl. “Didn’t expect it’d be you, sunshine. Rick didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me!”

Carol’s expression didn’t shift. “You got something to say, Negan?”

There was a pause. Then a low chuckle. “Always liked you, Carol. You were always the quiet, dangerous one. I like you almost as much as I like Maggie, you know. Me and her make a badass team ”

That definitely didn't reflect the way Maggie had talked about the possibility of even getting near the man. 

“Flattery won’t get you out of this mess,” she said simply. “Let’s skip to the part where you tell me what you want.”

“I want safety,” he said, tone shifting - just slightly. Less of a performance. More of the man she'd come to observe in Alexandria, post-prison. “For Lucille. The wife.”

Carol leaned against the wall, knowing that she, now, had leverage. “So you’re trying to run from the people you once led. Now you want shelter with the ones you terrorized.”

“I didn’t call for forgiveness, Carol,” Negan replied, his voice quieting. “I know I ain’t getting that.”

“There are people here that I care about more than I cared about anything I had in the future,” Carol stated. Sophia. “What makes you think we would be so willing to let you here? You know, most people here didn't live that long the last time. They wouldn't get your type of violence.”

From his voice, Carol could tell Negan was smiling. “Would they get your type of violence either, eh? I can tell where this is going, Carol. You trying to make a deal? I remember the last one we made, didn't go so well for me.”

“You were let out,” she pointed out. “And yes, I think we can work this out. Though really, right now, there isn’t anything you can offer us, this group. What are you? A PE teacher? With a wife suffering from cancer, who would eat up all our medical supplies?”

Then Negan let out a low whistle. 

She didn’t react.

“You know,” Negan went on, amusement lingering in his voice, “I’ve made a lot of deals with a lot of snakes in my day. Hell, I was the snake. But you… Carol… you’re cold-blooded too.”

“I’m not in the mood for compliments,” she replied.

He chuckled again. “Wasn’t a compliment. Just an observation. You’re the one I figured would be worth talking to, out of any of you, but I didn’t find anything on you except for the news about your arrest, killing your husband. That’s the first thing you did, eh? Was he as shitty of a husband as I was to my wives?”

“Worse,” Carol said. “And what, you don’t think your shining personality has charmed the rest of us?”

“Nah. I know Rick was probably giving me those stink eyes of his the entire phone call. And Daryl is probably back to licking his boots, since he’s alive again. Mrs. Grimes doesn’t like me either, even if she tolerates me, and I don’t even want to know how Maggie would answer. There's a lot of complicated stuff going on between us.”

Carol rolled her eyes with a smile. “And why is that, exactly? You know, I can think of a few reasons why they wouldn’t be overjoyed to see you.”

“Well, that’s true,” Negan said. “You’re the only one in that happy little family of yours who wasn’t afraid to make the dirty choice. You don’t just survive, Carol. You adjust. You bend the rules without losing sleep. You’re the kind of person I would’ve recruited back in the day.”

Carol’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know me.”

“Bullshit,” Negan said, voice low now. “You made a deal with me once. Let me out, used me to take out Alpha. You knew exactly what I was. Still did it.”

“I did what was necessary.”

“Exactly,” he said. “And that’s what you’re doing now. I know I don't have much to offer, and you’d consider Lucille a burden, but I am not useless. I am sure there’s still a lot of dirty work to do in Georgia.”

Carol sighed. 

“If I find out you’re lying,” Carol said, steel in her voice now, “if you even breathe wrong in anyone’s direction, or try anything with our people - I’ll end you. And you won’t see it coming.”

There was a beat.

“I believe you.”

Carol smiled. 

“Good. I won’t go against the rest of our group’s wishes - especially not Rick’s wishes - if they don’t want you here. But I do see value in someone that could do our dirty work when most people here are so moral, now, and we can’t risk people like Rick to do it.”

Chapter Text

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

When Maggie, Glenn and Michonne came back from their supply run, two trucks full of meds and food, Rick was waiting with Daryl for them, knowing there needed to be talk about the… situation . 

Carol had told him that the call went well, that she thought there was potential there. While Rick wasn’t entirely willing to consider it just based on that, Maggie and Glenn definitely had the right to know Negan had contacted them.

Rick walked up to the trio, Daryl flanking him the entire time, just as they started unpacking the stuff to the barn. Rick held up his hands, motioning for them to stop for a bit. 

“There’s… something you both need to know,” he began calmly, knowing that Maggie’s reaction wasn’t going to be pretty. And he wasn’t sure of Glenn, not at all.

Maggie tilted her head. “What happened?”

Rick met her eyes, steady. “We got a call. From someone else who remembers.”

Glenn leaned forward slightly. “Who?”

“Negan,” Rick said, noting the immediate shift in the air. “He remembered. He called me. He’s not with the Saviors. He said his former right-hand man tried to kill him.”

Maggie paused for a moment, then rushed at Rick, standing right in front of him, shaking her head. 

“No.” Her voice was sharp. “No, Rick. You don’t get to say that name to me. Not here, near Glenn.”

Something in that reaction was odd to Rick.

“I am just telling you what happened,” he said. “Apparently, the former saviours don’t like him. Since they seem to remember, he was attacked.”

“Good,” Maggie hissed. “He deserves worse.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Rick said, low. “But that isn’t all he said-”

“You talked to him? Just buddy-buddies? What the hell is wrong with you?” Her hands were shaking, her eyes wide with fury, red already with tears. “You let him speak to you? You didn’t tell him to go to hell? You didn’t hang up the goddamn phone?”

Maggie was approaching Rick’s personal space, erratic, but she didn’t get the chance to actually touch him before Daryl stepped between them.

There was something off about how defensive she was about the whole thing. 

 “Maggie,” Rick said. “Calm down.”

She tried to push past Daryl, but his hands came up - firm but not rough - catching her shoulders and holding her still. “Maggie. That ain’t the way. And didn’t ya work with him too? I bet ya didn’t just stay silent the entire time.”

“Let me go,” she said firmly. 

Daryl held his ground. “No.”

She struggled for a second, tears streaking down her face now, jaw clenched tight like she was biting through pain. Daryl’s grip never wavered. His voice didn’t rise, perfectly calm in his position by Rick’s side. 

“You think I forgot what he did? To Abraham, to Glenn?” Daryl asked. “I didn’t. I never will. But Rick’s not makin’ excuses. He’s just tellin’ what happened.”

Rick nodded. “Yeah. I let Carol talk with him, and we will be talking about the situation more, now. I haven’t made any decisions on what to do yet.”

Behind Maggie, Glenn walked towards them, pale.

“Are you sure it was him?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Rick nodded. “His voice. His bullshit. No mistaking it. He said Lucille’s alive - his wife, apparently, not the bat. Said Simon came after him. That means other Saviors probably remember too.”

Glenn sat on the ground, his hands trembling in his lap.

Maggie wiped her face, chest heaving, then stepped back. Daryl let her go, and she turned away, trying to compose herself.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I just… it hit me.”

Rick nodded, swallowing down everything he wanted to say. “I get it.”

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. “He better not come near Glenn .”

Rick noted that she didn't seem to be afraid of Negan going anywhere near anyone else. 

“He won’t,” Rick said. “But we do need to talk about it. I am not going to decide on it alone, since I don’t actually know the kind of man he is right now, but I have to tell you, for the sake of being honest, that he did ask to join us with his wife.”

Maggie's hands clenched tighter, shaking. Glenn looked over at her, his hand reaching for hers. She took it, even if her knuckles were white.

“We’ll figure this out,” Rick said. “Together.”

Daryl glanced between them, his face unreadable. But he stayed close to Rick’s shoulder, silent support for anything he might need.

Rick gave Maggie and Glenn some time to cool down by unpacking the trucks to the barn with Michonne, who seemed to be pretty neutral on the whole Negan-situation. Or perhaps she just didn’t want to say anything until they were actually debating on it later on.

Still, Rick wished that she would’ve said something to him. While he was alright being the one making decisions, he did want to hear what his people thought, and Michonne was the one out of everyone that had been his partner through some of their hardest times, supporting him through them.

Rick couldn’t help but wonder. Even if she hadn’t been with Daryl after he died, or with anyone else, had something still changed? Had they forgotten the way they used to be? After so many years of not having that sounding board, Rick supposed it was hard to return to the way things were. 

The odd thing was, it didn’t even hurt. He had been lost for so many years, far longer than he had ever spent with his people, with anyone. And he supposed relationships could be fleeting, but the sense of partnership he had with her, the strong bond they shared, hadn’t faded the same way as the other feelings had.

After Maggie and Glenn finished with the trucks, they all moved to the barn, Daryl going to grab Maggie and others who were inside, including Lori and Merle, even if they hadn’t ever even been close to meeting Negan. 

The barn was quiet, heavy with tension as everyone gathered around. Rick stood at the center, looking at each face carefully before speaking.

“Negan called,” he said plainly.

A low murmur swept through the group. Some stared at Rick, others exchanged uneasy glances. Hershel’s jaw tightened, knowing what the man had done to his son-in-law. Glenn and Maggie’s expressions were unreadable but guarded, already having heard the information. 

Rick’s voice was steady. “Carol and I spoke to him. He says he was attacked by his former right-hand man on the grounds of the school he teaches at. According to him, he doesn’t want to recreate the saviours or hurt us, he just wants safety - mostly for his wife. Lucille, apparently, was named after her. She has cancer.”

Merle let out a sharp laugh from the back. “Sounds like the same old sob story. How do we even know this wife exists? Or actually has cancer?”

“We don’t. I am just telling you what he told me,” Rick said. “He wants a place to stay, says he doesn’t want any trouble. We are here to discuss what to do with that information.”

Carl leaned forward, eyes curious but cautious. “He actually called you?”

Rick smiled. “Seems like I am less of two evils for him.”

Lori didn’t look happy about this. “You said he killed Glenn.”

Rick met Lori’s gaze evenly. “Yeah, he did. I haven’t forgotten that, none of us have. For full disclosure, he also killed other people in our group and threatened to make me cut off our son’s arm.”

Lori looked even more unhappy by that fact, her hands going to rest on Carl’s shoulders protectively. 

“He didn’t, though, mum,” Carl said. “He never hurt me. He is evil, but not unreasonable.”

Rick nodded. “I’m not saying we should trust him, or accept any request he has. I’m just telling you what he said.”

Hershel’s voice cracked with grief and anger. “Trusting him would also mean trusting the man who took my son-in-law’s life. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I get that,” Rick stated. “I am not asking that of any of you. However, since I have been told something changed with him after I was gone, we need to have this discussion, at least consider the possibility, even if it is only to decline.”

Carol’s eyes were calm but firm. “I’ve talked to him. I know it is a risk, but I have worked with Negan before, and I know him enough to think he wouldn’t hurt anyone here, unless someone tried to hurt him or someone else. And he does have qualities none of the others here have.”

Lori seemed to be a little swayed by Carol’s opinion, but Rick knew she had no idea what kind of a person Carol was either, not anymore. The last time Lori had seen her, Carol had still been weak, even though Rick hated using the word to describe her. Carol had shifted a lot after Lori’s death, becoming one of their most ruthless members.

No wonder she understood Negan. 

“How can you trust a man who beat Glenn to death? Who ruled through fear and violence?” Maggie asked Carol. “Even if he was docile after being imprisoned, do you really think he will just use this second chance to play house with people who are hostile to him?”

Glenn turned to look at Carol, jaw clenched tightly but less agitated than his wife. “Do you really believe him?”

Carol smiled. “Yes. I’ve made deals with him before, he is a man of his word, even if he is still evil.”

Glenn nodded. 

“Alright. I get it. Still, even if he was somehow a changed man, what would he offer to the table? Himself and a sick wife?” Glenn sighed. “I mean, I would help a sick woman, but…”

“But coming from Negan, it is outrageous,” Maggie said. “Did he help me when I was sick? No, he bashed my husband’s head to bits in front of me and enjoyed it. Is that the kind of man you want near any of your people? Daddy, is that the kind of man you want near Bethie?”

Based on Hershel’s grimace, Maggie seemed to feel like she had found her angle. 

People are always looking for an angle. But what was Maggie’s?

“Negan had multiple wives, too, daddy. He coerced women to be with him. Letting him here, with Beth? With Lori?” Maggie turned to look at Rick. “With Michonne?”

Rick looked at Maggie, considering what she was doing, trying to agitate him with the idea. 

“Was he ever inappropriate towards you when you worked together?” he asked. Maggie sighed, not answering. 

Rick turned to Michonne - he had to ask.

“Or with you, after I was gone?” 

Michonne shook her head. “You think that if he had, I would have let him anywhere near Judith? Our preteen daughter?” 

Lori’s eyes immediately snapped up at hearing Judith’s name, so did Carl’s. 

“What do you mean you let him near Judith?” Lori asked. “You let a murderer near my daughter?”

Rick knew he had to shut that line of thought immediately.

“I am a murderer, Lori,” he stated, gesturing at himself. “I don’t even know how many people I have killed by now, in various brutal ways. Biting people’s necks out with bare teeth or bashing heads in with a baseball bat, do we really need to compare that? The only thing I care about is whether he would’ve been a danger to Judith, and if Michonne says he wasn’t, I trust her.”

Lori seemed slightly chastised, but still not satisfied with the idea. 

“He wasn’t,” Daryl confirmed. “I may hate the bastard, but I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near lil’ asskicker either, had he been a danger to her. He would’ve been dead long before he was even in the vicinity.”

Rick nodded at Daryl, pressing his hand momentarily to his shoulder in acknowledgement, before turning back to Maggie. 

“I know Negan is a bad man, but we need to talk about the things he has actually done,” Rick stated. “And Glenn asks a good question - what would he actually bring to the table, even? Not that the story of a cancer-suffering woman isn’t sweet, but we can’t help everyone in what’s left of this world.”

Carol seemed to be ready to chime in. “Well, since we all know what kind of a man he is, isn’t it obvious? He can do our dirty work for us. He already has experience - In Alexandria, I made a deal with him to infiltrate a group called the whisperers and kill the leader, which he did. They were waging war against us, and Negan handled their leader for me. And if you want to stay here, Negan would be unknown to people like the governor, so he could easily do missions like that, unlike any of us.”

Rick tilted his head. “You think I wouldn’t be able to take out the governor?”

Carol smiled. “Of course you would be. But the governor will recognise you on sight, and even if we handled the governor well, what about the next group? We won’t be risking our leader on infiltration missions. You need to stay safe and alive so you can lead and protect this group. And you wouldn’t let any of us put ourselves in such a danger either, you care about us too much.”

That was a good point, even though Rick hated to admit it. 

“Could we even trust him? What if he infiltrates the governor’s group, for example, and just decides to sell us out?” Maggie asked. “Attack us when we think we are safe?”

Carol seemed delighted by the question. “Well, that is the beauty of Lucille existing. If he actually cares for her enough to come to us , asking for a place, then do you think we couldn’t use her to keep him in line? He wouldn’t attack us, knowing we have his wife… and besides, you seemed to trust him well enough in the future, at least to behave, what has changed?”

Lori seemed to be stunned by how the discussion was going. “Since when are we a group who would threaten people with the life of their wife? Talk about killing so callously? Do you think this Negan would believe that bluff?”

But Rick knew that, with Carol, it wouldn’t be a bluff. 

“Since we fought and bled together,” he said. “Since others started killing us callously. And I don’t regret any of it. It was survival.”

Lori folded her arms tightly, her gaze unwavering. “Survival still shouldn’t mean inviting someone like him here. If Negan killed Glenn in cold blood, you can’t just brush that aside. And you, killing in cold blood…”

Daryl’s hand tightened on his crossbow, his voice low but firm. “We’re not brushing it aside. I’ve seen how much Rick’s struggled with this, stop arguing when you didn’t live through all the years we did.”

“Look at you, lil’ brother, always to his rescue,” Merle said from the side. Daryl looked like he wanted to punch the man in the face. Still, Carol seemed to get an idea from that. 

“You know, why is nobody this outraged about Merle being here? No offence, Daryl,” she said. “But Merle also hurt Maggie and Glenn quite badly. Tortured them.”

Daryl did seem to be offended by the fact that Merle was dragged into the whole thing, but he didn’t say anything, probably realising that everything Carol said was still correct. 

“And you know, while it isn’t the same, wasn’t I welcomed back to our group with open arms even after killing two of our own at the prison, just because they had the flu?” Carol asked. “Didn’t we kill Negan’s men, dozens of them, in their sleep? I am not defending him, by the way. I am just saying - we aren’t really arguing about who is good or bad. We are all bad. We should be focusing on one simple thing; not if he is a good person, but whether we can work with him after what he did to us, and if what he can offer to the table is worth that.”

Maggie’s jaw was clenched when Carol turned to her, a smile on her face. 

“And I think we already had our answer. Maggie, you have worked with him when it has been necessary. I have worked with him. Daryl has worked with him. Michonne, you also know him from after his time in a cell, he saved Judith for you. So we can work with him after what he did to us. So, the only question is - do you think what he would bring to the table right now or in the future is worth it?”

Daryl was the one who answered this time. 

“If it can keep Rick and us safe better, then it is,” he stated firmly. “Though I ain’t letting that man anywhere near Rick, with the grudge he might still have against ‘im.”

Rick appreciated the protectiveness and he looked Daryl in the eye, giving him a small nod that the other man returned.  

Since they seemed to be in the process of deciding, next, he looked to Michonne. He knew she was very rational and had a good understanding of the situation, being one of the four there that had seen what Negan had been like after Rick was taken. Since Daryl and Carol already seemed to agree, well, she was the next one Rick felt the need to turn to. 

“I hate to agree, but I do understand it. If we stay in this area, he is someone totally unknown to our enemies here, and ruthless. And I don’t think he would hurt any of us, especially if, as Carol said, his wife is with him. And if he tries anything, we are also more than capable of taking him out. He isn’t some big bad monster that can magically murder all of us, he is just one man.”

Since Michonne agreed, Rick turned to Maggie and Glenn - the ones that the whole thing really affected. Mostly to Glenn, though, since while Maggie clearly didn’t want it happening, it was telling that she had been able to work with Negan in their past lives, after Glenn had died. If that had been the case, then Negan had to be reasonable enough to work with, and Maggie had to be capable of coexistence, at least in the same area, with him.

“I don’t want to put you in a difficult position here, Glenn,” Rick said. “But your opinion on this matters a lot to me. It isn’t the deciding factor, but I want to hear what you honestly think. If you want, we can even go outside, talk with just the two of us, without the others, if that would be easier for you.”

Glenn nodded, but didn’t say anything to Rick. Instead, he turned to Maggie, holding her hand. 

“You told me that you worked with Negan. You never told me why or how. Now I am asking, why, how. I know you wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t necessary, so there must be something only he could give you,” he said. “And I don’t want to make any statements without knowing exactly what that man can provide us.”

Maggie looked down, sighing.

“He saved Hershel, once. Then later, I worked with him to rescue Hershel,” she stated. “Our son. He was kidnapped by a former saviour. I went to Negan for help. Though in reality, I was given a deal - our son, in exchange for Negan.”

Glenn paused. “Did our son survive?”

Maggie nodded.

“And Negan saved him?”

Maggie was silent, but that was telling enough. With that, Glenn turned to Rick. 

“I don’t like it. I really don’t. But if you are willing to do it, I am, too,” Glenn said. “I mean, neither of us know what kind of a man he is now, right? I think I need to make my own judgment, beyond just…”

Beyond the bat, his death, Rick thought.

“Glenn…” Maggie said, trailing off, as if her anger had left her. “He murdered you. He was trying, sure, but… I have you back, now. I can't lose you again.”

“Maggie,” Carol started, sincere. “Negan has no intention of killing Glenn again. No reason to. And trust me, I would never invite him here if I thought he was a danger to us. Not when I finally got Sophia back. I would never risk her.”

Maggie, though still teary eyed, nodded. 

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. It is okay with me.”

Rick nodded. If even Maggie and Glenn were alright with it, it was pretty clear what they were going to be doing. Still, he turned to Hershel - it was, after all, still his farm and his son-in-law that had been murdered. 

Hershel’s voice softened, carrying a mix of sorrow and hope. “I’m angry. I’m angry for what he did to my family, for what he did to Glenn and Maggie. But I believe in second chances. I’ve seen what forgiveness can do. And I have never met this man, so I can only judge him based on your words.”

Finally, Rick nodded. “Anyone else?”

When there didn’t seem to be a need for more talk, Rick made his decision. “Since you seem to have come to an agreement, it is official - we will give Negan the chance. But we won’t be ignorant, or soft - if he does anything out of line, we can handle it.”

The group stood in silence, the weight of the decision feeling like the pressure of a storm approaching. 

Chapter Text

Wednesday, August 18th, 2010

The stars were dim above the farmhouse, hidden behind clouds that threatened rain - perhaps an actual storm approaching, instead of the figurative one. The silence outside felt louder than the arguments that had filled the barn hours earlier as Maggie sat alone on the porch steps, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

She didn’t know what to think, to do. Negan…

Negan was a part of her life in the future without Glenn. In Maggie’s mind, her life was divided in parts - before Glenn, with Glenn and after Glenn - and she had been a very different person during each of those times. 

In the era after Glenn, one constant in her life had been Negan’s presence, first looming, then in the sidelines, living rent-free in Maggie’s head, where she conjured up images of him dead in the worst possible ways. 

Then she had started talking to him. He had saved her son. They had saved him again, together. Negan had been trying, and while Maggie could never forgive him and despised the sight of him, she had acknowledged it and tried herself, too. She had said as much to him.

So now, when she was back to life with Glenn, she didn’t even want to think of the possibility of seeing Negan again. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she was afraid of what Glenn would think of her when he saw how the two of them interacted now. And of what Negan could do to him just with his words.

Behind Maggie, the house glowed with life. People - people she had watched die, who she had buried and mourned - were alive again. Laughing, happy. In so many ways, Maggie couldn’t recognise them anymore. And she feared, once Negan came back, they wouldn’t recognise her either. 

She stared down at her hands. Glenn was alive. She should’ve been grateful - she was grateful - but that didn’t make the grief he had left behind vanish. 

He was younger than she remembered. His hair shorter, his face softer, no sign of stubble. He was so beautiful and he still looked at her like she was the sun - and that hurt. Because she'd lived too long in a world without that look and in his absence, she had become more like a black hole of grief, to an extent where Hershel had been affected by it.

Negan had watched Hershel from a distance sometimes. Never spoke to him, but he had asked about him, listened when Maggie answered. Listened like he cared.

She’d hated him for that. And, slowly, stopped hating him for it, even while she still hated him for killing Glenn.

And now Glenn was here; real, breathing.

And Maggie didn’t know what to say. There was an ocean between the woman she had been when the bat came down on his head and now. 

What was she even supposed to tell him? How was she supposed to face him, with the way she had existed with his murderer?

Maggie felt silly, wanting to protect Glenn from the years he had never even lived. Maybe that was why she had been so adamantly against having Negan with them, because she knew that it would let Glenn see how comfortable she had somehow become with him.

Negan had robbed her of the life she should’ve had with her husband - and then, somehow, become a part of the broken version she built without him. And now, with Glenn here again, alive and whole, she felt like a stranger in her own life.

Footsteps creaked behind her, and she didn’t have to look to know who it was. Glenn sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, just holding her, clearly seeing that she was struggling. 

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” he said quietly. 

Maggie blinked, eyes burning.

“I just... want to understand. I know something happened. I can feel it when you look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “There’s something wrong with me. The version of me that kept going, after you.”

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was soft.

“I was dead. And you lived. That’s not something I’m angry about. Whatever you had to do, whatever choices you made or who you worked with, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I am here , now.”

She looked at him, truly looked. He still carried the look of someone that had been through battle, even in his too-young eyes. 

“How much time did you spend with him?” Glenn asked, curious. “At first I thought you were angry about the possibility of him coming here because you were actually afraid of him. Or because you never let go of your anger. But I can see it now - you are acting like you think you have to act for me.”

“Too much,” Maggie said, pressing her hands to her face. “I never forgave him, I told you the truth about that. Every time I saw his face, I saw him beat you with that bat, mock you while you died. Until I didn’t, anymore, because I spent too much time with him to be constantly angry at him.”

Glenn looked at her, seriously. “Do you think I would blame you for that?”

Maggie shook her head. “No. But I blamed me for it.”

“You shouldn’t. I mean what I said; I died, and life continued after me. If circumstances caused him to change, or for you to have to work with him - or even be allies with him, if that is what you are guilty about - I get it. I am only grateful for it, if it led to our son living. Maggie, you shouldn’t blame yourself for anything.”

Maggie looked at her husband, feeling quite weak for someone who had been through so much. Glenn, he was just… such a good man. And when he leaned in, Maggie let him, kissing him with a small smile on her face. 

“I’m here now,” Glenn reiterated. “And I am not going anywhere.”

They sat there, hugging, for a while after that, before walking to Maggie’s old bedroom in the farmhouse, settling in for the night. 

-

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

They had ended up giving Negan a separate location to meet them at, once he and Lucille managed to get themselves to Georgia. Carol had graciously agreed to communicate with him, for the sake of everyone’s mental stability. 

Apparently the asshole had apparently already left for the long drive, packing with him everything he and his wife might’ve needed. Lucille, for Christ's sake. That was going to be an unfortunate name for her to have among them. 

Daryl had agreed to be there with Carol to meet him late that day, though when Rick had tried to butt in as well, Daryl had had to rant to him in hushed words about him being their leader and needing to be kept safe in case that piece of shit somehow still had a grudge against him. 

Rick had only looked at Daryl with amusement, though he had agreed. And now, with all of them eating breakfast in the farmhouse, Daryl could feel Merle’s eyes following him again.

“Ya know, lil’ brother, I ever catch you whisperin’ sweet nothings to Friendly again, I’m goin’ to start thinking you’re bumping uglies,” he said, annoying Daryl clearly being the only fun he had. 

“Shut yer damn mouth, Merle,” Daryl said. “And stop callin’ Rick Friendly, show some respect. He’s yer leader too.”

Merle snorted derisively. “So now we can’t even question Saint Rick, eh? Didn’t know I was joinin’ a cult.”

One day, any time soon, Daryl was going to kick Merle’s teeth in. 

“Eat your damn food and thank the girl for making it,” Daryl said. “Yer a guest here. And again, keep Rick out of yer filthy mouth.”

Merle smiled. 

“So, are you the only one who’s allowed to have him in his mouth, eh?” Merle turned to look at Rick, who seemed to be nicely ignoring all the shit Merle threw out about him. “Is Darlina being good to you? What’s it like, having your personal redneck lapdog?”

Rick turned to look at Merle, his gaze dark, but seemingly refusing to answer any derogatory statements. “Merle, you were in the army before going to prison,right? So, you know a lot about weapons, other useful equipment?”

“Yeah, Friendly-” Daryl pointed his knife at Merle. “- Rick, yes, I was in the army. Got discharged for assaultin’ some high and mighty prick. Reminded me a bit of ya.”

Rick nodded. “Then you can come with me and Daryl to look into getting us more weapons, today. You have a chance to show you can actually behave in public.”

As if that was ever going to happen. 

“Wha’, ya gonna make me behave like my little brother? What do ya got him doin’ for ya now? Polishing yer badge? Lickin’ yer boots clean?”

Rick seemed to finally have had enough. He stood up from where he had been eating his breakfast, next to Daryl, and walked to his other side, grabbing Merle by the back of the neck and leaning in, looking his eyes with the man. 

Daryl found the show of dominance quite exhilarating. 

“You will not say another dirty word about Daryl. I can tolerate it when you talk about me, but when you talk about Daryl that way, like he isn’t even in the room, when he is the best of us, pisses me off,” Rick nearly growled, voice deep. “You are here because Daryl is our family, and you are his brother. Never forget that; the only reason you get to be here is because of him, and you should be the one licking his boots.”

Merle didn’t seem fazed. “Ain’t ya two precious, sticking up to eachother. You two share a brain or just take turns usin’ the same one?”

Rick slapped Merle with his free hand and the escalation seemed to make everyone actually stop and look at what was going on. Daryl could see the varying reactions of the people around them - Lori, looking like she couldn’t even recognise the man she had once been married to. Carol, seemingly approving. Same with Maggie and Glenn. 

Daryl just sat still, watching his leader, knowing that no matter what Rick did, he would still follow. 

“Do you understand me, Merle? You will not say another word about Daryl. You won’t degrade him, you will respect him,” the man said, gripping the collar of Merle’s shirt. “Do you understand?”

Merle snorted. “I ain’t as easy to command as my lil’ brother. Bet if ya asked him to kiss a walker on the mouth, he’d just ask which one. Though that might make ya jealous, Friendly.”

Rick grabbed Merle, threw him to the floor, then dragged him to the radiator on a nearby wall. He took out his handcuffs, as he was still wearing his uniform, and cuffed Daryl’s brother to the metal piping - the same hand as last time.

“A little blast from the past, eh, Merle?” Rick asked. “You can sit here for the next few hours and think of the fact that, had you behaved, you could’ve come with me and Daryl to actually do something productive.”

Rick stood up, turning to Daryl, clearly looking for his approval. Daryl nodded. He trusted Rick’s judgement, and though he would’ve liked to see Rick punch Merle a few more times, he-

“Really, Darlina, do ya actually have any of yer own thoughts in that pretty head of yours? Or is Friendly sum’ sorta substitute for our dear old daddy? Is he the only man who never hit ya-”

That was enough for Daryl, too. He stood up, stalked up to the radiator, then punched Merle to the jaw once, getting immense satisfaction out of it. Merle just looked even more grim. 

“Or maybe he does. Maybe ya like it, too.”

“Why do you always have to be such an asshole? Why’d ya always cause problems? Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Rick put his hand on Daryl’s shoulder, comforting him, and Daryl leaned into it, shaky. 

“We are leaving to go look at some weapons. We should be back before Daryl and Carol go pick up Negan and his wife,” he told the group, dragging Daryl out with him, outside, where he felt like he could finally breathe again. 

“Isn’t he charming,” Rick said dryly. “Don’t take anything he says to heart, Daryl. You are a good, strong man. All of us value you. Nobody looks at you as any less than them.”

Daryl nodded, clutching his crossbow. “Maybe they should, though. I don’t mind bein’ seen as yer henchman.”

Rick smiled at him in that crooked way of his. Daryl noted that the man was finally starting to gain his stubble back. Daryl was glad - honestly, Rick looked really weird with his clean-shaven cop style. He looked good, obviously, but he was… too clean, that way. Daryl liked the more feral look on him. 

“You aren’t my henchman, though,” Rick said, wrapping his arm around Daryl’s shoulders. “You’re my second-in-command. My partner. My best friend. And nothing’s ever going to change that.”

Daryl pressed his face momentarily to Rick’s shoulder, breathing deeply in, almost missing the smell of blood, sweat and grime that used to always be caked to them. 

“I’m goin’ to take yer word on that.”

Daryl could feel the rumble of Rick’s voice as he spoke. “And you should. Truly, I couldn’t have asked for a better man to go through this shit with. All of it.”

-

“Don’t suppose you’re gonna apologize for that little breakfast show,” Hershel said as he settled into a rocking chair beside the radiator Merle was cuffed to, after everyone else had gone off to do their own thing.

Merle snorted, yanking his hand once out of spite. “Didn’t realize there was a dress code for manners. Thought y’all were just happy I didn’t bring the apocalypse with me. Yet. ”

Hershel chuckled dryly, the sound old and tired. “You brought enough of your own chaos, Merle.”

Merle glanced over. “Ain’t wrong.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the wind rustling through the trees, cicadas buzzing somewhere in the distance.

“You know,” Hershel finally said, “You aren’t stupid, Merle. I know that. We talked in the prison, before you went and got yourself killed.”

Merle snorted, rattling the cuffs once more, turning his head away from the old man. 

“I spent a long time hating men like you. Men who drink more than they work, who talk louder than they listen. Reminded me of my old man,” Hershel continued.

Merle took that without a fight, letting the words settle. “Ain’t like I don’t know who I am.”

“But I can see now - that’s just how you act, not who you actually are. I think you know that too, which is why you stay close to your brother and not much else, yet you still antagonise him. You push everyone away, put up a facade.”

Merle looked down at his boots. “Ain’t ever been much good at the whole… community thing. Or family, for that matter.”

“Yet here you are,” Hershel said gently. “Trying. Even if it’s half-assed and loud-mouthed.”

Another silence. This one more loaded.

“I saw what Rick did,” Hershel said, more quietly. “And what your brother didn’t stop him from doing.”

“You gonna lecture me now? 'Cause I didn’t come here for no Bible study.”

“No. I’m not lecturing you.” Hershel looked him square in the face. “I’m trying to understand you. You make it really hard.”

Merle’s jaw worked. He didn’t answer right away.

“I ain’t ever had a man stick up for me like that. The way friendly sticks up for my lil’ brother,” Merle finally admitted, voice rough. “Not even my daddy. Hell, especially not him. And I ain’t think Darylina has had that either.”

“You think you failed your brother,” Hershel said. 

“When that prick grabbed me, put me in my place, part of me wanted to fight him. But another part… another part knew I deserve it,” he said, shaking his head. “Hell, he could’ve hurt me more and I still would’ve deserved it.”

Hershel nodded slowly. “But he wouldn’t hurt you too bad, you know that. He isn’t beating Daryl, and he wouldn’t do that to you. He isn’t violent towards those he loves.”

“You think Rick loves me?” Merle asked with a bitter laugh.

“I think Rick loves your brother; Daryl is his closest confidant. And your brother loves you. That counts for more than you might believe.”

Merle didn’t answer, taking another long drink, his eyes glassy now but not from the alcohol.

“I used to think I’d die alone. An’ I did,” he said. “Still might. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna drag Daryl down with me. But I ain’t a team player. If I can’t do anythin’ else, I can at least make that clear with words.”

“That’s the first honest thing I’ve heard you say all day,” Hershel said.

Another pause.

“You want advice, Merle?”

“Not particularly.”

“I’ll give it anyway. Be the man your brother already believes you can be. Or at least try.”

Merle’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if that man exists.”

Chapter Text

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

The bell above the shop door gave a sharp jingle as Rick and Daryl stepped inside, Daryl having reluctantly left his crossbow in the police cruiser, both of them only having knives tucked under their clothes.

It was one of those off-the-highway outdoor supply stores - thick with the smell of gun oil, dust, and something faintly earthy like tanned leather and pine.

The dim lights buzzed overhead, flickering slightly in one corner. Rows of camo jackets, bows, trail boots, and shelves lined with ammo, knives, scopes, fishing rods. The place was a fortress for survivalists, and it hadn’t changed much since Rick had last stepped into it years ago.

He used to go to the place with Shane, sometimes, when they were having a day off, just hanging out together. Now, he was there with Daryl, and it felt slightly poetic. 

Daryl was already moving ahead, instinctively, like his body knew where to look before his mind caught up. His eyes scanned the racks of compound bows and recurve models with interest, only to stop at the crossbows and eye them with careful admiration - though he didn’t say a damn word.

Rick watched him quietly, hands in his jacket pockets.

“See anything you want?” Rick asked, voice low. “Don’t worry about the cost. Credit card debt won’t matter in another few weeks, so I’ll buy ya anything you want.”

Because, as he had come to learn, Daryl and Merle didn’t actually have credit cards nor much cash at hand either. Merle had probably wasted all the money on booze and meth, if Rick had to guess, and Daryl had been dragged down with him. 

Daryl didn’t meet Rick’s eyes. “Just lookin’.”

Rick stepped forward, watching him pick up a crossbow - newer than the one he carried, in better condition.

“You should take that one,” Rick said. “Or just all of them. Or pick the model that suits you the best, we can get a few of them.”

Daryl grunted. “Mine works fine.”

“It isn’t about if it works right now. I know that thing saved our lives hundreds of times, but what if something happens to it? I would like you to have replacements at hand. You deserve that, and it would be good for all of us.”

Daryl looked at the weapon again, then back at Rick. “Ain’t about ‘deserve.’ It’s about what I know how to use.”

“I know you are adaptable. You used multiple different ones the last time, too. What is it really about?”

Daryl shifted a bit on his feet. “Ya know, there are only so many of us and only so much that yer credit card limit allows ya to spend, unless we rob a bank in the meantime. Crossbows aren’t cheap, either.”

Rick looked at him - really looked. At the man who had stood beside him through every kind of hell. Who had never asked for more than he needed, who’d walk through fire for the people he cared about without saying a word.

“My limit is pretty high. Perks of being a lawful citizen, with a house in the suburbs and the salary of a policeman. And I would gladly spend all of that on you,” Rick stated. “You’ve never asked me for a damn thing. You’ve followed me through every bad call and worse. So don’t argue with me when I say I want to give you something now.”

Daryl shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of emotion, but he didn’t fight me either. He picked up the newer crossbow and tested the draw, quiet as ever. Rick could see it in the way his breathing slowed, relaxing into that feeling of the hunt. He liked it.

Good.

I turned toward the wall of arrowheads, scanning the rows. “We’ll get you everything you need. Hell, we’ll clear out the shelf.”

“Don’t need that many.”

Rick chuckled. “We’re not gonna have to scavenge for these. Not if I can help it. Honestly, it is an investment - you are the best hunter out of all of us, and if your weapons are kept in shape, it means food for everyone.”

That earned a flicker of a smile from him. Barely there. But it was something.

We moved in rhythm after that. He pointed out what worked - Rick picked it up and tossed it in the cart. Not just stuff for Daryl, though, but stuff Rick also thought useful. A few blades he liked the weight of, a machete with a red handle that he had to get when he saw it on the shelf. He also grabbed a solid hatchet for himself, then another, as he had come to like the weapon in the future. 

Every now and then, he’d glance over, catching Daryl adjusting a strap, testing a grip, looking like he was easing into a second skin. Sometimes Rick felt like someone was watching him too, but he assumed it was just Daryl.

As they stood in the checkout line, the only sound the soft whir of the old register and the faint buzz of lights above, Rick turned to him.

“I mean it, you know.”

Daryl looked over, brow raised.

“You ever need something,” Rick said, “anything - you come to me. I won’t let you go without again.”

There was a long pause.

Then Daryl gave a single nod, firm and quiet. “Alright.”

The cashier and some others at the shop looked at them with extreme suspicion as they loaded up everything they had bought, but Rick supposed that his uniform was doing him wonders once again, since he wasn’t questioned about all of it. Maybe the man thought it was for some sort of secret police thing, Rick didn’t care. He just paid for the stuff, then he and Daryl went and hauled it all towards the parking lot, into the police cruiser. 

Just as they were about to leave, someone rushed out of the shop, and before Rick could do anything, a hatchet had been thrown at him. He jumped to the ground, barely surviving, as the sharp object crashed through the back window of his police cruiser. 

Fuck. 

Rick didn’t get a chance to react any further as he was grabbed by the back of his jacket and thrown further from the cruiser, a snarl at his ear. 

“It is you. It is you, you monster!”

Rick turned around in the man’s grip, coming face-to-face with Morales . Fuck, what were the chances. 

From the corner of his eye, he could see that Daryl had taken out his crossbow, aiming straight at Morales. But Rick knew they couldn’t do that now. Not in public. Daryl wasn’t like Carol, the cops wouldn’t let him out easily, and Rick wasn’t going to spend any more time without the man. 

“Daryl, don’t!” he shouted, wrestling with Morales. Daryl obeyed the command, letting go of the crossbow, but he clearly wasn’t going to let anything happen to Rick, rushing at both of them, putting Morales in a chokehold, ripping him off of Rick with protective fierceness.

Daryl was efficient about it, practised, but Morales was a big man - and he, too, was practised. After all, he had been a saviour.

And something shifted.

Morales twisted suddenly, shoulders dropping, legs kicking back just enough to throw Daryl off balance. There was a sharp scrape of boots on pavement as Daryl tried to keep his balance, and then he was down - hard - the breath knocked out of him as Morales broke free and surged forward, eyes wild with something Rick couldn’t place. Panic, rage, perhaps memory. 

He started punching Daryl. Rick saw red.

Morales was clearly very angry, and maybe he was remembering the moment of his death, how he had been talking to Rick, and then it had just been lights-out. Maybe he had realised that Daryl had been the one to do it. 

Rick didn’t think, he was between them in an instant.

Not because of training, not just because of instinct, because it was Daryl .

His Daryl, the man who had followed him through the hardest times in their lives, who had stood at his side when the world and Rick broke, when everything else had fallen away.

Rick's arms came up, the knife he had hidden in his belt in his hand, his body trying to shield Daryl like it was second nature. 

"Enough!" he snapped, his voice low and hard, growling. But Morales wasn’t letting go. It was understandable, having lost his family, then having been killed at their hands, but Rick didn't care about Morales’ reasons. Not right now.

Daryl’s life was at risk. While he was fighting back well, Morales was trying to beat him down, and Rick had been the one to tell Daryl to leave his crossbow behind. 

Rick pounced on Morales, grabbing him expertly by the arm, twisting it so that he was on his back, then he stabbed him straight to the stomach. And, mirroring the way he had once killed Carl’s attacker, he kept at it, gutting the man with each sharp stab of the knife, dragging it up to his sternum, through his heart. Again, and again, and again.

The parking lot was painted red with the man’s blood, same as Rick’s uniform, and Morales tried to say something, but blood was coming from his mouth, too. Rick didn’t care. 

All he cared about was the man behind him, the sharp sound of Daryl trying to sit up, breathing rough, muttering “I'm fine,” even when Rick knew damn well he wasn’t.

Rick reached back, not taking his eyes off Morales, and touched Daryl’s arm with his bloody hand - a quick, anchoring gesture.

“You stay down,” he murmured, gentle. “I got this.”

It wasn’t a command. It was a promise, though he didn’t know how well all of it was going to go down. 

Morales' hands twitched as he died, Rick delivering one more blow straight to his brain through his eye out of habit. Rick heard panicked voices coming from inside the hunting shop, and he knew that there were only a few options in case he wanted Daryl to walk free. 

He saw someone calling 911, looking at Rick like he was a monster. Daryl, by now, had stood up, standing next to Rick, looking like he knew that they might’ve fucked up. 

Maybe it wasn’t the greatest idea, gutting someone in public, but Rick wouldn’t have let Daryl get hurt. 

He assessed the situation quickly, having been a sheriff’s deputy himself. There hadn’t been cameras in the shop, but there was one outside, so they would’ve seen him and Daryl, as well as the car being loaded up with weapons. 

Based on the stab wound patterns, it definitely wouldn’t be ruled as clear-cut self-defence, even if there was some of that in there. Far too much force, far too much violence for it to be normal.

There were witnesses - two people, and Daryl, who was part of the scuffle, so the police would want to take him, too. Or the sheriff’s deputies, as they were in King Country. Rick’s jurisdiction. 

“Daryl,” Rick said, turning to the other man. “You need to go now. Leave with the cruiser, get the stuff we bought to the farm through some backroads, drop them off, then drive the cruiser somewhere and ditch it, then go back to the farm yourself and hide. We are in King County, the people coming will know that’s my car, and if it stays here now, they will confiscate everything and take you with me. I will let myself be taken in, talk to the officers - they know me, maybe I can use that. But you have to go. Get the supplies to the farm before they find the car. I know the men that will be coming first, I can handle this. ”

Daryl didn’t look pleased, looking from Rick to the person holding their phone, calling in tears, looking like he might actually shoot them just so they couldn’t take Rick away.

“Daryl, we can’t risk a manhunt following me to the farm. This isn’t the apocalypse - all the cameras are still working, the phones, helicopters. I will stay here, you go, and I will stall enough that you get away and can ditch the car. If they have their main suspect, especially since I am someone they know, they won’t waste resources on a proper manhunt.”

Daryl looked extremely reluctant to do so, but with only a quick grab at Rick’s back, pulling him into a close hug for a moment, he leapt to the cruiser, driving off. 

Rick was left there with the few witnesses who were looking at him like he was a feral beast, dripping blood on the pavement. He settled the knife down on the ground and steeled himself, tried to reel in the brutality in him so he could confront the officers coming with his own “Officer Friendly” look. It felt fake, but he tried. 

It took nearly five minutes, and Rick could imagine the people sitting in the cop car, getting a similar distress call that he and Shane had gotten that fateful day, arriving at the scene where they knew to expect anything. 

In came one cruiser with the same King County Sheriff’s Department logo as his own had. And then Rick saw them.

Leon Basset and Lambert Kendal.

Men he’d known since before the end of the world, but that he hadn’t seen in around two decades. If Rick was supposed to behave like he was the same man he’d been back then, he was going to be in big trouble. 

Leon stepped out first, hand awkwardly on his sidearm. Kendal was slower, eyes scanning the parking lot, instantly finding Morales’s gutted body.

Then their eyes locked on Rick, who tried to decide on what kind of an expression to make. He ended up with a small smile, the carefree one he used to always have, and he wondered whether he looked insane to them. Or psychopathic. 

“Rick?” Leon asked. “Is that you?”

Rick walked to them with careful steps, bloody hands raised, palms facing them. “Yeah. It’s me, Deputy Grimes. I am not resisting.”

Kendal squinted. “You’re supposed to be on leave.”

“I was,” Rick said. “It ended ten minutes ago.”

They approached cautiously. Not with malice, but confusion. History weighed heavy between them - the last time Leon saw Rick, for him, had only been days ago. Last time Kendal had spoken to him, it had been over a cup of station coffee.

“What the hell happened?” Kendal asked. He already looked sick to his stomach by all the blood and gore that was covering the ground and Rick. 

Rick didn’t blink. “It was self-defense, he threw a hatchet at me and then attacked me. I acted on instinct. I didn’t have my gun on me, since I am on leave, but I had a knife.”

They looked past him to the body, at the blood pooling dark beneath Morales. Kendal’s face twisted.

Leon approached the body. “He attacked you, and you did… this?”

“Yes,” Rick said, even knowing that the security footage would show that there was a lot more to the story. 

“Jesus Christ.”

Kendal exhaled, stepping back. “You know how this works, Rick. We have to report this. Homicide’s gonna have a damn field day.”

“I know,” Rick said quietly. “And I’ll cooperate.”

Kendal moved first, reaching for his cuffs. “Hands behind your head, Rick. You are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney, and the right to a court-appointed attorney if you cannot afford one.”

Rick nodded and complied, kneeling as they moved in. He didn’t resist when the cold metal clicked around his wrists.

This wasn’t the world he remembered - not yet. There were still laws, ones he used to enforce as well. 

-

The squad car was too quiet when the officers got back there, having left Rick to wait while they secured the scene. Once the forensics and other officers arrived, they got back in with Rick, yet they didn’t speak. 

Rick sat in the back, wrists cuffed behind him. He stared straight ahead, calm and collected, watching his former friends.

Leon was gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles pale. “I- I don’t even know how to file this report, man,” he muttered finally, eyes not leaving the road.

Kendal rubbed the back of his neck, jaw working. “It’s not just any case. This is Rick Grimes. A trusted officer of many years, and now this, ” He glanced back through the divider, voice dropping. 

Rick didn’t answer. He knew better than to speak freely now. Every word mattered. Even with people who used to be his friends.

Kendal turned forward again, quieter. “When we got there, for a moment I thought it was a prank. Rick Grimes - killed a man, right there in public, stabbing him so much there was more blood than clean cement?” He shook his head. 

Leon let out a sharp breath. “Do you know why he attacked you? Did you know him?”

Rick’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“Forensics told us a bit about the victim, from what he had in his wallet. Morales. A family man, a loving father and husband,” Leon continued, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Now he shows up, attacks you for seemingly no reason and you end him in broad daylight.”

Rick kept his eyes forward.

Kendal glanced over at Leon. “We talked to the witnesses. They weren’t sure what happened. One of them said you just... snapped. They mentioned another guy, who was with you, that he was attacked when he defended you, and after that, even when you had him pinned down, you decided to…”

Leon grunted. “Either way, it’s excessive force.”

“It wasn’t force,” Rick said at last, voice flat. “It was survival.”

Kendal turned halfway in his seat. “He had a weapon? Aside from the hatchet he threw.”

Rick didn’t answer.

Kendal didn’t push. He let the silence sit there like a storm cloud in the car.

“You’re not making this easy, man,” Leon said under his breath.

“I’m not trying to,” Rick replied, eyes never leaving the road ahead. “Just do your job.”

Leon exchanged a look with Kendal, his fingers flexing on the wheel.

“You’re not even gonna try to explain?” Kendal asked, more exasperated now. “You’re not some rookie who panicked. You’re you. The guy who talks people down. The guy who knows when not to pull the trigger. If you had him pinned down, you wouldn’t have started stabbing him repeatedly.”

Rick’s voice got colder. “As I said, it was self-defense. He wasn’t going to stop. You want me to lie?”

“No, I want you to tell us why ,” Kendal snapped. “Why stab him like that? Why go that far?”

Rick looked down at the floor of the cruiser.

Leon glanced in the rearview. “You were protecting this other person. You got too angry. Weren’t you? Who was he?”

Rick didn’t look up. “Doesn’t change the result.”

The silence returned, this time thick with something bordering on dread.

“We’re taking you to the city,” Kendal finally said, his voice clipped now. “Homicide will handle the questioning. We can’t do anything more for you.”

“Understood,” Rick said simply.

Neither officer spoke after that.

Chapter Text

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

The road to the farm had never felt longer.

Daryl's knuckles were white on the steering wheel of the borrowed car, a layer of sweat on his brow, trying to decide between speeding as fast as possible to be able to manage everything fast and going slow in order to avoid suspicion.

Morales’s blood was still on his shirt from Rick touching him, and Daryl replayed the moment in his head, where Rick had ordered him to go. 

He hadn’t wanted to go. His place was next to Rick, always , and there was nowhere he would’ve rather been. In his mind, it had been a fight between staying by the man and obeying his orders, and in the end, Daryl’s inherent obedience towards anything Rick said had won. 

He wasn’t going to risk anything by listening to his selfish desire to stay by Rick’s side instead of the thought-out orders the man gave. 

He didn’t even know what the hell Morales had thought he was doing. Didn’t matter now - Morales was dead. Rick had killed him. In public, doing something like that had become so normal for them that it was laughable to even think of getting arrested for it. 

By the time Daryl pulled up the gravel drive, Maggie and Glenn were standing near the porch, working on some supplies, and Carol walked outside, probably having seen the car arrive. 

When Daryl stepped out, they could all see he was without Rick. 

“Where’s Rick?” Maggie asked, already tense.

Daryl looked down at the gravel for a second, then back up, jaw clenched. “He ain't comin'. Not right now.”

“What happened?” Glenn stepped forward.

Daryl exhaled through his nose, trying to hold the shaking back. “We ran into Morales, from the Atlanta group. You can’t remember it, but he became one of the saviours, we met him later on, killed him. And now he remembered, attacked us...”

Carol sighed. “You are saying that that infuriating man got himself arrested, aren’t you?”

“Rick did what he had to do,” Daryl said, louder now. “Morales went after me. Rick stepped in, protected me, and Morales ended up dead. Rick told me to run. Said he’d handle it.”

Carol stepped forward now. “And you left him.”

“He told me to,” Daryl growled, raw. “He handed me the keys and told me to go. Said it’d be worse if we both got taken.”

“I am not blaming you. I am just surprised,” she said lightly. “How bad was it? Could it be considered self-defence like in my case, or…”

“He gutted him, stabbed him repeatedly in the stomach and chest, and once in the head. No way around it,” Daryl said. 

Maggie and Glenn both looked horrified by the news of what had happened - Daryl knew it wasn’t because of the violence, but because now they had yet another issue, right before Negan was supposed to show up too. 

“We need to go get Michonne. She’s the lawyer,” Carol said. “We need to figure out if there’s any hope in getting him out on bail and dragging it on until the world blows up, or if we need to start organising a prison break.”

Carol and Daryl walked inside the farmhouse, but not before Daryl gave Maggie and Glenn orders to quickly clear out the cop cruiser of anything in it before ditching it somewhere. They found Michonne playing with Andre on the floor, Hershel watching them fondly while Merle grumbled out some insults, still cuffed to the radiator. Michonne just looked amused by the fact.

Daryl wanted to snort. Apparently, once again, Merle was going to be spending more time cuffed up, since Rick wasn’t there to free him. 

“Hey,” Carol said, softly, crouching next to Michonne. “We need to talk. There’s a situation.”

Michonne’s eyes flashed. “Is it about Negan?”

Carol shook her head. “No. Rick, he… he gutted someone in public. Got himself arrested.”

“He did what?” Merle asked with humour. “My, my, that is not a good look.”

Michonne snapped her head towards Carol and Daryl, a dark look in her eyes. “And now he’s in custody?”

Daryl nodded. 

Lori, who had appeared from the kitchen, had gone pale. “He’ll go to prison…”

Merle seemed to realise something. “Wait, if Friendly is goin’ to prison, who’s gonna free me?”

To make his point, he rattled the handcuffs once. Nobody really paid attention to him. 

“Maybe he can argue self-defence?” Hershel pointed out, hopeful.

Michonne wasn’t convinced, though. “If he had just quickly killed him, sure. But gutting? If it was brutal enough, there will be forensics taking a long look at it, and they will be able to tell how efficient Rick is with it.”

“That is a real problem for us,” Carol said. “Rick is our leader. Yes, most of us have been leaders in our own right by now, but we need to get him out. He has always kept us together, united, instead of the way we were scattered later on.”

Daryl snorted. “Then we better figure out how to get him out. Legally or not.”

“We also need to remember that Negan is arriving today. Me and you will be picking him up, so no prison breaks today. Let Michonne handle this for now,” Carol told him sternly, and Daryl just huffed. 

“Why do I feel like all I am good for in the normal world is your legal assistance?” Michonne asked with humour. 

“Yer can get back to slicin’ walkers in a few weeks, don’t worry. I bet yer gonna miss this, then.”

-

“Deputy Grimes, the other deputies told us you let yourself be taken in, and we’d like to thank you for that. Especially when we know this isn’t easy.”

Rick nodded, but said nothing.

He was sitting in an interrogation room, hands now cuffed to the table in front of him, with a homicide detective and another police officer in front of him. It had been a few hours since he had been arrested, and it was now nearing late afternoon. Rick wondered how his people, mostly Daryl, were doing. 

The detective opened the folder, flipping through printed witness statements and preliminary reports he had gotten from Leon and Kendal. “We want to talk to you about the incident involving Mr. Morales.”

Rick’s jaw twitched, but his voice remained calm. “Alright.”

The detective glanced at him once more, then began. “First, let’s talk about the timing. You cashed in all of your vacation days just a few days before this happened. That’s not exactly common practice - especially with no prior notice.”

“I needed time off,” Rick answered calmly. “Personal reasons.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Personal reasons that required clearing out an entire hunting supply store with another man, during that same vacation? We talked to the cashier - you mostly bought weapons, basically a life-long supply of them.”

Rick didn’t answer right away.

“You and one Daryl Dixon - who, by the way, is now conveniently gone, and whose brother has connections to drug cartels.”

How do they know Daryl’s name? Rick racked his brain, but he knew he had never mentioned it. And Daryl, despite being relatively recognisable if you knew him, wasn’t someone involved with the police. 

Unless they had caught him. The detective wasn’t going to tell him that, if it was the case. They were allowed to lie to him, and Rick knew that.

Rick kept his face composed. “We were buying gear for hunting. It’s legal.”

“But you didn’t just buy simple hunting knives,” the detective said, sliding a photo from the security footage of them packing up the cruiser to him. “That is a lot of crossbows, hatchets, machetes, and other weapons. Bulletproof vests and other heavy-duty stuff too. Doesn’t look like the typical hunting season. If you had also been buying guns, I’d think you were supplying the army, but I am not ruling out the possibility of terrorism.”

Rick really wanted to tell the man that he had indeed done some pretty terroristic things in the future, but he knew that wouldn’t have gone well for him. 

“And then there’s what Morales said before he died. Witnesses reported him yelling ‘It’s you. It’s you, monster.’ You knew him. Don’t deny it. How?” 

“He must’ve mistaken me for someone else. I don’t know him, he just attacked me out of nowhere,” Rick calmly stated. After all, in the past, they had indeed never met before Rick had joined the Atlanta group, and there would be no proof of interaction found.

“Didn’t look like just an attack, though. He was angry,” the detective said. “Then Dixon protected you, and when he started beating Dixon, you stabbed him. Sixteen times, to the stomach and chest, with a clean finishing blow to the skull.”

Rick said nothing.

The detective’s voice grew colder. “That’s not self-defense, Rick. That’s execution. We talked with the coroner, she said that the stabbing was done very intentionally, with no hesitance, expertly, as if the perpetrator had done it hundreds of times before. Especially the stab to the head, which severed the brainstem cleanly with just one hit.”

None of that was wrong, Rick supposed. But he knew the homicide detectives were going into a very wrong direction with their theory. 

“And what’s really troubling - Carol Peletier . You bailed her out yesterday, for stabbing her husband, multiple times. The coroner’s report on that wasn’t as rushed, since it was seen as very probable self-defence, but now we also know that she, too, severed the brainstem with one, clean hit. Do you know how much force it takes to stab through a skull? Even if you go via the eye. For someone doing it the first time, it’d come as a shock, but both you and Mrs. Peletier knew exactly how to do it.”

Rick exhaled slowly. “You think we planned this?”

“I think you know more than you’re saying,” Pruitt replied. “We’re seeing a pattern. Clean kills, efficiency. You’re a cop - trained to subdue, not to kill . But you have done this before, clearly. You just need to tell us when and how - why .”

Rick looked down for a moment, then back up. “I told you. He came at me. I responded.”

The detective leaned back. “If it weren’t a brutal gutting, maybe we’d believe that. And the hunting gear, the associates Dixon has, the similar killings with Mrs. Peletier. And the fact that you were dead silent about Dixon? Doesn’t look good for you. Instead of just manslaughter due to clear recklessness when acting in self-defence, I think this might actually be murder to the first degree, fully planned, intentional, brutal.”

Rick finally leaned forward, his voice low, steady. “You don’t know me, or him.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed we don’t, and that is the scary part - you clearly aren’t just what you appear to be. It sure as hell looks like you’re hiding a lot.”

Rick sighed. “I want to talk to my lawyer. Michonne Hawthorne.”

There was a glint in the detective’s eye as he stood up. “You even have the same lawyer as the other stabber. Does she have something to do with this, too?” The detective closed the folder. “You’ll be held for further questioning. We’ve got more to review. But I’ll tell you this now - if there’s something bigger going on here, now’s the time to say it.”

Rick said nothing, knowing that it was just another bullshit tactic detectives used. Still, he knew his silence must’ve been even more telling than any words he could’ve said.

The detective and the officer left him alone in the cell, and while Rick wasn’t panicking, he had to admit he was worried. Mostly for Daryl. After all, he had no idea how-

Rick wasn’t allowed to be alone for too long before the door to the interrogation room opened once again, a familiar face stepping in, making Rick’s jaw clench tightly. 

“Hello, buddy,” Shane said with a smile. “I think we need to talk. I turned off the recording devices, the cameras.”

Why did the world have to keep throwing curveballs at Rick at every single fucking turn?

“Don’t worry about Dixon. He wasn’t arrested. I told them I ran two days ago because I could see how dangerous you were, because I feared for my safety. They took me in on the investigation, showed me the footage of the fight, and I identified Dixon for them. I guess they now trust me.”

Rick wanted to stab something. “If you’re here to kill me, then at least be a man enough to admit it.”

Shane just smiled. “Nah, man. I’ve had a few days to think. At first, I believed that you were just the same asshole as the last time. But now…”

“Now?” Rick questioned. 

Shane answered with a humorous, slightly deranged tone. “Now, seeing what you did to Morales, I know I must’ve missed quite a bit. We knew him, man. He was with us in Atlanta. And now, you killed him in cold blood, gutted him in public?”

Rick just glared at Shane. 

“So, I think this time, we do need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

Shane hadn’t seen Rick since the day that he woke up in that cruiser, with all his memories. Right before that, he had died in the hands of his best friend, stabbed to the heart. 

Right then, he had thrown accusations at Rick, because how had he dared to kill Shane?

But when he had looked at Rick, really looked at him , he had seen something dark within the man he thought he had known well. And he had run, he still hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. 

For the next few days, Shane ignored all the calls he got from the Sheriff’s station. He wandered around, thought about his life, everything that had led up to his death. When he thought of the man he had once been, and the man he had become, he realised one thing; no matter what he had done, he had told Dale the truth. He did love Rick like he was his brother. 

Yet the outbreak had made him feel far too stressed. Shane had thought Rick had died, that he had lost his brother, and when he had come back, Shane felt like he really had, indeed, lost him. And everything else meaningful, too - Lori, Carl. 

They had been his. Then everything had changed. 

Now here he was - in an interrogation room under shitty fluorescent lighting, watching the man he once called his best friend sit handcuffed to a table.

And Rick looked… old.

Not in years, though - his face was still familiar, still that same hard-cut jaw and furrowed brow, the same baby blue eyes - but the weight in them was ancient. 

Even if he looked outwardly the same, Shane couldn't recognise the man in front of him. 

Shane leaned against the wall at first, arms crossed, trying to play it cool, yet his heart was pounding so loud in his ears he was surprised Rick didn’t hear it too.

“So, to start - why did you kill Morales? I mean, man, we knew him,” Shane said, keeping his tone even. “Didn’t believe it, at first.”

Rick didn’t speak. Just stared.

So Shane pushed on, pacing slowly. “I mean, sure - you killed me, too, and I was supposed to be your best friend . But stabbing someone innocent in broad daylight?”

Still nothing.

He swallowed. “It was Morales. You do remember him, right? He left us before we got to the farm.”

Rick nodded once. “But that wasn't the last time I saw him. You wouldn't understand, you didn't go through anything even remotely resembling what we went through - but he wasn't the same man when I saw him last. He wasn’t innocent. ”

Shane blew out a breath and finally sat down across from him, rubbing the top of his head, still weirded out by the feeling of hair. “How long did you live, after…?”

He needed to know. 

Rick's gaze was stone cold. “At some point, years stopped mattering. But it was a long time. Over a decade. You think those few months you lived changed people? You don't know even half of it.”

That was such a long time. Shane had thought that Rick wasn't made for the way that the world had turned out, but he supposed that it had truly been him who hadn't been made for it. Rick had a certain calm to him, an ability to not let things affect him, whereas Shane…

Shane still didn't know if he could've killed Rick. Certainly not the way Rick had killed him, pretending to disarm himself only to stab him through the heart, sneaky. 

“What happened after I died?” he asked finally.

Rick looked up. No softness in his eyes. “You want the bullet points? We’ll be here for a long time if I try telling you everything.”

There was a decade that Shane had missed, and he did want to know everything. But he did suppose that they needed to be quick, before someone decided to interrupt them. 

“I want the truth, the most important things,” Shane said. “Lori, Carl, the baby…”

Rick’s mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Lori died. Carl died. Judith, my baby girl, lived when I last saw her.”

Shane flinched - hard. “Lori? Carl? ”

“That’s right,” Rick said dryly. “I had to bury my wife, then bury my son. Lori died in childbirth, Carl got bit a few years after that.”

No wonder there was such a dark air to the man in front of Shane. 

“You couldn’t keep them safe. I knew it,” Shane said, though there wasn’t really any heat behind the words. 

“Do you really think you could’ve kept them safe, huh?” Rick asked harshly. “Do you? Shane, you have no idea about everything I had to do to keep them and my baby girl safe.”

Right. There was at least one light at the end of the tunnel: “The baby lived. Judith, you said?”

Rick nodded. “Last I saw her, she was three. I got separated from the rest, then. But I talked with Daryl and Michonne, they both saw her grow up.”

Daryl, the redneck asshole? And who even was Michonne? The people who watched Shane’s daughter grow up were a hick who hated his guts and someone who he didn’t even know?

“And don’t you even start talking shit about Daryl. He was always more loyal to me than you ever were, and he is the only reason any of us survived as long as we did,” Rick growled before taking a deep breath, sighing. “And Michonne was my partner during Judith’s first years and when I got separated from the group. She was the only mother Judith knew. And truly, Daryl was as much of a father to her as I was.”

So, Rick had gotten together with another chick after Lori - the baby’s real mother. And someone like Daryl Dixon being considered as a father to her was just an insult to Shane. He was her father. 

But did that really matter, now? Because by the time Shane had been cold and dead, she had still been in the womb.

“I didn’t… I never got to meet her,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“According to Daryl and Michonne, she is strong. Stubborn, too, like you,” Rick said. “But while I could tell that she wasn’t… mine, she was my daughter. Nothing will ever change that, Shane.”

Shane swallowed. “She won’t even exist now, will she? So does it matter whose she was?”

Rick smiled. “Will she exist, eh? You tell me. I don’t know what your plan is right now, Shane, but I am not going to kill you on sight, and I have no intention of getting back with Lori. And I do see a point in a lot of the actions you took back then, even if you went insane. So, as long as you toe the line, I have nothing against you being with her, even if I can’t trust you with my group.”

Shane looked at Rick, trying to see any lies in those words. But there were none. “How could you just say that? Lori is your wife, man. Aren’t you going to fight for her?”

“Se hasn’t been my wife in over a decade ,” Rick said simply. “I mourned her and everything I went through after her made it so I could never see myself in a relationship with someone like her again. No offense to Lori, but she really wasn’t made for the apocalypse. Right now, if I would even think of being with someone, they would have to be someone I know would be able to have my back. Someone I could trust with all I have. That’s what I had with Michonne.”

“You said you talked to this… Michonne, yes? Don’t you have that now, then?” Shane asked. 

Rick smiled bitterly. “No. The simple thing you need to know about the apocalypse is that even a few months change the way you are, the way you behave. I thought, when we got separated, that once we met again, we would just reconnect. But we are both already different people compared to who we were. And I am not mad about it, that is just how it works. Everyone during the outbreak learned to just let go.”

Rick flexed his fingers a bit, sighing. “But I guess that works out for you. There were only seven months, probably, between your death and Lori’s. While you were scaring her at the end, if you actually manage to stay sane this time, there’s nothing really stopping you, except for Lori herself. And me, if you try anything - I won’t hesitate to put you down.”

Rick let the silence settle, and Shane thought about all of that. Lori, she had been so beautiful during the outbreak, so vulnerable, and protecting her had made something in him feel complete.

So had leading the group, being in charge. So, could he really just… toe the line with Rick?

“You’re not the man I remember,” Shane said. “You told me what happened to Lori and Carl, but you didn’t really tell me anything. 

“No,” Rick agreed. “I didn’t. Do you really need to know about all the people we’ve killed, all the people we’ve lost, the wars that we had to fight against other survivors? To put it simply - out of anyone you knew at the farm, only Carol, Daryl and Maggie lived, aside from me.”

Carol, the abused housewife who had just lost her daughter, the one they had uselessly searched for? Daryl, the redneck trash? And Maggie, the farmer’s daughter?

“And in the end, most weren’t killed by the walkers, but by people we encountered. You remember Hershel? He got his head cut off with a katana. Glenn got his head bashed in with a baseball bat. Nothing we went through in all those years was pretty…”

Rick trailed off, but Shane could see he was thinking, calculating.

“Carl got shot to the head and lived, someone tried to rape him, someone nearly made me cut his hand off, so on. During the time you lived, you didn’t have to experience true fear, true hunger, thirst. Did you even kill anyone aside from Randall and Otis? I lost count of how many men I’ve killed.”

Jesus. 

“Who were the bastards that did those things? Did you give them what they deserved?”

Rick let out a laugh. “You know, most bastards got what they deserved. Morales actually got the same treatment as the man that tried to rape Carl, and I bit out the throat of the leader of that group. One of the people that tried to kill us, I beat his head in with a machete. And there were many more that I shot to death.”

“You look like you’ve seen hell.” Shane said casually. 

Rick leaned forward, voice low. “You thought the quarry was hell? The barn? Sophia? You think Randall’s group could’ve been a threat to us? That was just the prelude. You never actually saw real threats, because it isn’t the walkers. And I would’ve killed anyone that stood in the way of my people’s safety.”

Shane looked at Rick, assessing.

“You were right about Randall. If I saw him now, I would kill him on sight. He might not have been bad himself, but he was too much of a risk,” Rick stated. “But not everyone was killed that hurt us. I guess you’ll be calling me soft again, since the man that killed Glenn and nearly made me cut Carl’s hand off still lives.”

What? 

“Why?” Shane asked. “Why would you let someone like that live?”

Shane couldn’t help but think that indeed, Rick was still weak. Even with years of experience, even with killing people, he had still let himself be weak.

“Because when Carl died, his wish was for me to make peace with his group. Because if we continued fighting, people were just going to keep dying. When he was defeated, in order to keep his men in line, I let him live,” Rick said. “I guess that paid off, since while I got separated from the group, he actually somehow managed to become a productive member of it.”

Shane, somehow, couldn’t even imagine how that had happened. If the man had killed Glenn, who had seemed to be someone all of them had liked, how could he have possibly convinced anyone-

“Your expression tells me how much of the way of the new world you don’t understand,” Rick said simply. “Everyone became a murderer. Even Carl. It wasn’t about good or bad people anymore. It was about protecting what belongs to me - my people, my family. ”

Shane didn’t know what to feel. Grief? Shame? Relief that Rick had been there for them when he wasn’t? Or anger that Rick had failed them - Lori, Carl - anyway?

“I wanted to be the one to protect them,” he admitted. “I would have done it.”

“You don’t know what you would or wouldn’t have done,” Rick said. “You didn’t live long enough. Sure, with Otis, you did what you had to do, but even that is pretty minor, albeit very shitty.”

Shane clenched his jaw. “So, what’s your plan now? You say you’ve talked to Dixon and the future girlfriend of yours, but anything else? You plan on actually staying in jail?”

Rick shrugged slightly. “Probably. No way around it really, unless my lawyer manages to arrange bail for me.”

Shane blinked. “Since when do you have a lawyer?”

“Since Michonne happened to be one before the outbreak.”

Right. 

“And this is all worth it, then? Going to jail?” Shane asked. “For Dixon?”

Rick looked him in the eye. “I would die for Daryl. A short stay here isn’t the worst of it.”

Shane nodded slowly, some strange, bitter respect forming behind his ribs along with jealousy, because he knew that he was no longer a man Rick would die for. He had lost that privilege. 

“What if I could get you out of here?”

“I don't want your help, Shane,” Rick stated. “And even if I think you were right on a lot of stuff, it doesn't change the way you are. You aren't loyal, you can't follow orders, you will make decisions without consulting anyone. Even if I wanted to have you in our group, I can't have someone unpredictable among us. Not someone who would kill one of our group because he considers some lives more valuable than others. ”

Shane started to get pissed off. 

“Didn't you say you were all murderers, huh? What about the man who killed Glenn, is he loyal, do you think you can trust him? Over me?”

Rick tilted his head. “He is predictable. He doesn't do things without a reason. You, though? I haven't seen you in a long, long time. I don't even remember the kind of man you are. You think I'd trust you? The last we saw each other, you were going to kill me. I could trust you, with time, but not right now.” 

Shane seethed on the inside, hands shaking. He drew out his service weapon from its holster, pointing it at Rick's head, once again. 

The man didn't even flinch. 

“If you aren't even going to give me a chance, why shouldn't I just kill you and take it all? You're holed up at the farm, right? Without you, who's going to be there to stop me, huh? Dixon with his cute bow?”

Rick looked at him like he was somehow hilarious, then burst out laughing. “Oh my god, Shane, you have no idea how screwed you'd be if you went there, now.”

Shane was about to say something, dumbfounded, but then the door to the interrogation room opened, the detective and a black chick standing with him. 

Her eyes were murderous when she saw Shane, flicking from the gun in his hand to the expression on his face. 

She turned to the detective. 

“Sir, I think you can clearly see why I believe my client is not safe here and should be approved for bail.”

-

When Michonne got to the sheriff's office and had met with the detective, she had immediately been able to tell that he was hostile and suspected far more was going on than just simple self-defence. 

Michonne couldn't fault the man for being in the right, but it did make her job a lot harder to do. 

She did argue that Rick had a very low risk of fleeing since he had a wife and son, that he was a trusted member of the community with no prior record, that it had been a lapse of judgement, nothing he was likely to repeat if he got bailed out until trial. She also argued that due to being a member of the same Sheriff's department, he could be in danger from people that might've had a grudge against him at work, for example. 

She was now extremely glad to have made that point, considering it was the only thing that kept her from driving the pen in her hand through the back of the man's skull for holding Rick at gunpoint.  

“Officer Walsh, what are you doing?” the detective asked. 

The man, with dark hair and eyes and a strong jaw, turned to look at the two of them, clearly shocked about the fact that he had been caught. Rick seemed to just find it amusing. 

“I didn't tell the entire truth, when I told the other deputies Shane had run off two days ago,” Rick said, clearly wanting to tell Michonne who the man really was. So, it was Shane. The man Rick had told her about. “Before he did, he started raving about delusions, like the dead coming back to life, being dead, and pulled his gun on me, exactly like this. I took time off to investigate this, since I was seriously worried for my friend…”

Michonne wanted to roll her eyes. Really? Rick probably wasn’t lying, but…

“I think he is a member of a cult. I looked into it, and found other people connected to him with the same delusions - one of them being Morales and his family, who found out about my investigation and considered trying to get Shane to leave the cult evil , hence why he called me a monster,” Rick said with a sigh. “That’s why I knew he wouldn’t stop.”

Shane looked absolutely baffled by all of this, but he still hadn’t lowered his gun. Michonne could tell that while the detective was listening to Rick, he was also carefully approaching Shane from behind, taking advantage of his shock.

“I can give you a list of names you should look into, for cult connections. Philip Blake, for example,” Rick said, and Michonne could see his angle there. Getting all of their enemies who might remember involved with the police before the apocalypse, and thus, making their situation easier. “I believe the cult believes I am evil and must be killed, which is why they attacked me. Carol's husband, Ed Peletier, was also connected to this, which is why I paid her bail.”

Michonne didn’t know if the detective believed any of it, but she could see Shane getting angrier. 

“You-” Shane started, taking a step toward Rick, pressing the gun to his forehead. “I have no idea who this Philip is, Ed was killed by a walker-” Shane started, but stopped abruptly when he realised that, indeed, there was still someone who didn’t remember among them.

Shane turned to look at the detective, his jaw clenched, and Rick used that to his advantage, cleanly grabbing the gun from Shane’s hand - though he only dangled it in his fingers, as to not cause a threat.

Michonne smiled. 

“You admit to knowing Ed Peletier?” the detective asked. “And you did identify Daryl Dixon for us. How do you know him?” 

Shane seemed to realise that things weren’t going in his favour, and he shut his mouth, though one could tell he wasn’t calm from the way his eyes flickered around the room. 

“Now, there’s clearly some sort of a conspiracy here, and my job is to figure out what that is. Officer Walsh, you will be detained for questioning,” the detective said, before turning to Michonne. “If your client wants to press charges against him, he can. We will keep a better eye on Mr. Grimes’s safety from now on, but I will still recommend the judge keep him here, since he clearly knows far more than he is currently telling.”

“It will be on the judge to decide,” Michonne stated. “But I do understand. My client did tell me some of this information beforehand, and he asked me to represent anyone hurt by this cult. Though, some leniency might make us feel more willing to give out all the information we have - after all, if Rick Grimes can personally choose his place to stay, there is less of a risk that the cult finds him.”

Michonne was quite certain that the detective believed at least half the shit she was saying was bullshit, but it was on Rick - he was the one that had had the idea of a cult. 

Well, they’d see how it panned out. 

The last thing Michonne heard as she walked to talk to a judge was the detective telling someone they needed to bring Philip Blake in for questioning. Michonne was determined to be out of the building before that happened. 

Chapter Text

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

Philip had no idea why King County Sheriff’s office had suddenly wanted to take him in for questioning. They had interrupted a nice, lovely evening he had been having with his wife and daughter, neither of whom who remembered, and he was pissed about it. 

His beloved Penny, whose hair he had been gently brushing when the cops had come calling. They hadn’t arrested him, but Philip had been able to see the dark look in their eyes enough to know that it wasn’t just a request. 

And so, he had gone with them, wondering why it had happened. After all, he hadn’t yet changed anything in the new timeline, he had just been enjoying having his wife and daughter back, making plans to ensure they stayed alive that time around. 

He got even more confused when he got to the interrogation room and the detective started pulling out pictures of random people. 

“Do you recognise this man?” the detective asked, and Philip sure as hell didn’t. The man in the picture reminded him a bit of Martinez, just with longer hair and with more weight on him, but it obviously wasn’t his former right-hand man. 

So, Philip shook his head. “I have never seen him in my life.” 

Next, he was shown a picture of a man wearing an officer’s uniform, with dark hair and a strong nose. “What about this man?” 

Philip seriously started wondering if he had actually managed to somehow change the timeline enough to accidentally get himself involved in something. But, as far as he knew, he hadn’t really done anything out of the ordinary. He had been a good middle-management employee and an excellent father and husband. 

“No, I don’t know these men. I think you must’ve mistaken me for someone else. May I ask why you are doing this?” Philip asked with a charming smile. 

The detective hummed. “Someone made the accusation of you having connections to a cult that has attempted to murder some people, and whose members have been murdered. We wanted to see if there was any truth to that.”

Right. So, some nutjob had accused Philip of being a nutjob himself. While that had been the way he had felt many times in his life, it wasn’t his mindset at that point. 

“Well, then, I suppose you don’t know this man either?” the detective asked pointedly, giving him another picture of a man in a similar officer’s uniform as the previous one. “He is the one that the cult has been targeting.”

When Philip looked at the photo, he almost dismissed it as just another random man before he looked a bit closer, and his blood started boiling. Even without the beard and the longer hair, wearing the uniform of a Sheriff’s deputy, Philip could’ve recognised the man. 

After all, it was the man who had ruined his life, along with Michonne. 

“Based on that reaction, you do know him,” the detective said, and only then did Philip realise he had crushed the picture in his hand out of sheer anger that had bubbled up inside him. “Care to tell me how?”

Philip thought about the situation. Since he wasn’t actually a member of a cult, but someone had accused him of that, he had a fair guess who it was - Rick. 

And if Rick knew to accuse Philip of being in some cult to get him in trouble, that meant that Rick, too, remembered. 

That was a problem. Philip had been under the belief that he was the only one to remember. 

So, how could he screw Rick right back? What was the worst accusation he could make?

“He has been threatening me. My family, my baby girl,” Philip started. “I think I accidentally screwed over two of his people when doing my job. I believe their names were Maggie and Glenn. Rick has been wanting payback ever since.”

Take the bait. 

The detective paused visibly. “ His people?”

“I don't dare to tell anyone. He has been taking pictures of us, my daughter, and he swore he was going to ruin my life,” Philip said, acting scared. “And he's a police officer too, so I didn't think going to the cops would matter.”

“I am not affiliated with him,” the detective said. “Tell me what you mean by his people.”

“Well,” Philip started, gently, reeling the man in. “It is pretty well-known around here that he is leading a group of organised crime. He has many henchmen, who've come to threaten me multiple times.”

The detective looked like he definitely hadn’t expected that turn of events. He swore, pressing his hand onto his forehead. “Do you have any proof of this?”

No, Philip didn’t. “No. But I can tell you the names of some of his henchmen. Michonne, Andrea, Daryl, Merle - I think he might even be trafficking drugs for Rick. And then there is Maggie, Glenn…” he started just repeating the names of everyone he knew from Rick’s group, to gauge the reaction of the detective. Based on the way he started to look even more tired, Philip had definitely hit the nail on the head. 

The detective pulled out more pictures. “Can you identify this woman?”

The governor clenched his jaw tight so as to not call out her as the murderer of his dear daughter. “Yes, Michonne. She has repeatedly threatened to kill my daughter if I don’t do exactly as Rick says. I believe she carries a katana.”

Another one. 

“Yes, I know him too. That’s Daryl Dixon. He has a brother named Merle. I believe Daryl carries a crossbow, too. He is dangerous, and absolutely loyal to Rick’s antics.”

The detective looked tired. 

“Without any proof, it is your word against theirs,” he said. “I think this whole situation is far beyond my pay grade, though. I think I will hand the case over to the FBI, and I want you to remain at the station until that. Right now, we don’t suspect you of any crimes, we just want to question you more. Will you cooperate?”

Well. That wasn’t going as Philip planned, but he was curious of what shit Rick had stirred in order to do something enough for it to be handed over to the FBI. 

“I will,” Philip said. “Where will I be staying?”

The detective hummed. “I suppose there are already two jail cells occupied, but there is a third one, too. Just… don’t talk with the others, there.”

Who were the others going to be, he wondered? Rick?

“Of course, officer,” Philip said with a smile. “I will be very grateful if I can be of any help.”

-

Daryl hated leaving the farm when there was still no news on Rick, but he and Carol needed to go get Negan and his wife. 

The meet point was quiet, a single stretch of cracked road in the middle of nowhere. They had given Negan the coordinates, using the luxury of actually having working GPS at that point. 

Carol sat in the passenger seat, eyes scanning the roadside as Daryl parked on the side of the road.

There, next to another car, was a man. Negan . Broad-shouldered, back straight, not a trace of caution in his stance. He had both hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, like he didn’t have a damn thing to be nervous about. But it wasn’t just his presence that made Daryl tense.

It was the face - looking far more like the man that had bashed Glenn’s head in than the one after prison, who had already had gray and white in his hair and beard.

Carol leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “That’s him.”

“Yeah,” Daryl muttered. “Jesus. That’s really him. He looks… young .”

“Speak for yourself, pookie,” Carol said with a smile. “ You look really young.”

Daryl only grumbled at that, not feeling like answering. He turned his attention back to the man.

Negan . Next to him stood a woman.

She was petite, pale and thin, dressed like someone who had no business being this far from town - a pretty blouse and sensible shoes, hair curled at the ends. Somehow trying to fit her into the picture of everything Daryl knew of Negan felt wrong . She wasn’t a part of their world. 

Lucille. She looked pretty frightened, turning to look at Negan from time to time like he was insane.

Daryl’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Ain’t right.”

“She doesn’t remember,” Carol said, quietly. “Even if she might be a strong woman otherwise, Negan waking up and dragging her halfway across the country is bound to scare anyone off.”

They stepped out of the truck together, dust lifting under their boots. Negan turned at the sound, and for a beat, his smile brightened.

“Damn, Daryl, is that you?” he asked with a laugh, walking up to them. “The years really weren’t kind on you the last time. And is that hair dye, or was your hair just so dirty all the time it looked brown?”

Daryl, instead of answering, kept his eyes on the man like a hawk. It made Negan sigh. 

“Carol, honestly, you should teach him some politeness. Or make Rick do it,” he stated. “Speaking of, where is your fearless leader? I haven’t seen his face in years, I almost miss him and those baby blues of his, always glaring at me.”

“Tha’ is none of yer concern,” Daryl said immediately. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere near him.”

Negan whistled - at least it wasn’t the same tune as before. “Daryl, why the cold shoulder? I wouldn’t hurt Rick, not when he’s so precious to the two of you.”

“You won’t hurt anyone, Negan,” Carol said firmly. “Not unless we tell you to.”

Negan held up his hands in mock-surrender. 

“Right, right, darlings,” he turned to look by his side. “So, I suppose we have to make some introductions. Lucille, here’s Carol and Daryl. Trust me, those are their real names, even if they sound ridiculous. Carol, Daryl, here’s Lucille - the woman, not the bat.”

Lucille was eyeing Negan like he was insane. And, Daryl supposed, if the man hadn’t actually told Lucille everything, she would think so. And maybe, if he had told her, he would’ve sounded even more insane. 

Lucille blinked, and her mouth pulled into a tight line. “I don’t know what has gotten into him, kidnapping me, packing all our belongings and dragging me to Georgia. We still have business in Virginia.”

So, he hadn’t just taken her with him, he had done it against her will. Wonderful. 

Carol glanced at her, then back to Negan. “She doesn’t remember anything?”

“Not a thing,” Negan said, tone softer now. “As far as she’s concerned, I am just a regular good old gym teacher that suddenly had a mental break after Simon tried to kill me.”

“Have ya told her anything ?” Daryl asked, incredulous.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Negan said. “You know, two decades without her made communication quite difficult, and I didn’t know how you wanted to handle her. Besides, what little I have told her, she doesn’t believe.”

Lucille was glaring at Negan quite fiercely, clearly not appreciating the fact that people were speaking about her like she wasn’t even there. Since Daryl wasn’t really one to comfort vulnerable women, it was Carol who stepped up, walking to Lucille and smiling gently. 

Daryl could tell that Carol had once again put up a mask. 

“It is very nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” Carol said softly. “I know you must be very confused.”

“Is someone finally going to tell me what's going on?” She asked fiercely. Carol sighed. 

“Well, the apocalypse is coming.” She answered her, and Daryl wanted to snort. Way to go, now they sounded like some nutjobs.

Lucille eyed her carefully, then turned to look at Daryl - who, he knew, looked like a stereotypical redneck, while Carol still looked like a perfectly nice older lady with her cardigans and smiles. It reminded Daryl of Alexandria. 

“Are you…” Lucille started, turning to Negan. “Are you in a cult?”

Negan clapped his hands together. “Well, maybe Carol can explain you everything while we drive.”

Lucille shook her head. “ No . I know what happened with Jonestown and all that. If you are actually taking me to a cult, who’s to say we will ever get to leave it again?”

“Look at this, darlings! The things I have to do for love,” Negan said, sighing. “No, I am not taking you to a cult. I actually have no idea where they will be taking us, but I trust them.”

Lucille definitely didn’t seem convinced by any of it. Daryl appreciated the fact - at least she wasn’t too gullible. They just needed to keep her put for the next few weeks, and when the outbreak happened, she would have to understand. 

When they were about to leave for the farm, Daryl giving Negan the instruction to follow behind them, Negan started talking again. 

“So, where is Rick?” Negan pointed his question at Carol. “I already asked, but Daryl dearest just threw a hissy fit.”

Carol answered without looking back. “Busy. Got arrested.”

Negan raised a brow. “Isn’t he a cop? What did he do?”

“Gutted one of your saviours in public,” Carol said dryly. 

Negan whistled. “Good to hear your fearless leader is still in that mindset. I’d hate to see him go soft.”

Lucille just stared at the back of Carol’s head, lips parted slightly, like the words didn’t quite compute.

“What?”

Well. They had a lot to explain once they got to the farm. 

-

“You know, you are an asshole,” Shane told Rick, who lay on the bunk of his jail cell, pleased. 

“You think I’m an asshole?” Rick asked, feeling like the conversation almost mirrored the dream he had had back then. Before the bridge. 

“Why the hell did you go and tell the detective I was a member of a cult?”

Rick turned to look at Shane, who was sitting in his own jail cell, looking at Rick darkly. It was almost amusing to see the petty anger on the man’s face, because it was just that - petty. 

“You pointed a gun at me in the Sheriff's Office. This is on you.”

Shane snorted. “Yeah, and you stabbed a man to death in broad daylight.”

“I am not claiming that my arrest is on you, but your own definitely is,” Rick said. “Honestly, you were just begging me to take advantage of that situation. I you need to start taking accountability for the things you do.”

Shane was about to retort, when the door to the hallway with the jail cells opened, the detective walked in with another man. 

Rick immediately wanted to curse. As if it wasn’t enough, sleeping near one man that wanted him dead. At least the jail cells were divided properly, no risk of getting killed in his sleep.

Shane seemed to pick up on Rick’s reaction. “Who is he, Rick?”

The Governor seemed to be very intrigued by this, though he didn’t say anything before the detective had locked him up in the cell next to Shane’s, opposite to Rick’s, and left. 

“Who the hell are you?” Shane asked again, jerking his chin toward the man in the cell to the right of him. 

Rick really didn’t want Shane and the Governor talking. Not at all. The Governor seemed entirely confident, now. Clean-shaven like Rick had been when he woke up, well-dressed, no hint of the apocalypse on him, and with two functioning eyes. 

“I could ask you the same question. Who are you, how do you know Rick?”

Rick pressed his hands to his eyes, realising that he himself had, once again, gotten himself into the situation. After all, he was the one that mentioned the governor to the detective. 

“I’m Shane. I used to be Rick’s best friend, but I guess I am not, anymore. Not after he-” Shane started, but shut down quickly once again. Right, he didn’t even know if the governor remembered the whole thing, or if he was just someone random. 

Rick sat up. “Okay - you two are clearly going to talk, so let’s make a few things clear - you both remember the outbreak. No need to shy about it. I killed Shane, so he’s a bit pissed at me. Shane, the man in the cell next to you is the one that cut off Hershel’s head with a katana and the one that locked Andrea into a room with a walker and caused her death. So, make of that what you will.”

Now Shane seemed to be angry, clearly redirecting his anger a bit towards the governor. 

“ You killed Hershel and Andrea?”

The governor’s smile didn’t falter. “You’re mad at me, when Rick killed you? I was killed by his group, too, by a woman named Michonne. Though you wouldn’t know her, would you, since you died before that, right?”

Shane turned to look at Rick, again. “Your former girlfriend killed him? How? ” 

Rick needed to remind himself of the fact that Shane had no idea how dangerous all of them were. 

“His girlfriend?” the governor asked. “What else has Rick told you about the future?”

Rick, honestly, kind of hated his life at that point. 

Chapter Text

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

The sun was sinking low when the truck rolled up with a beat-up car following it.

Maggie had been waiting for it the entire evening, ever since Daryl and Carol had left to pick Negan and his wife up. Even when she knew there were other things she could’ve focused on, she hadn’t been able to. Once again, she was obsessed with Negan. 

She had tried to drive Glenn away, too, when he had wanted to comfort her, but Glenn was stubborn, still sitting next to her, and Maggie was frightened by the prospect of him meeting Negan once again. 

He didn’t want Glenn to ever have to see the man. Never again. 

Daryl got out first from the Dixons’ truck, his face unreadable. Carol climbed out after him, slower, eyes steady. 

Then Negan stepped out of his own car. 

Maggie could feel Glenn visibly flinching by her side, shaking. Maggie grabbed Glenn’s head and pressed it against her shoulder, trying to hide him from the world. 

Since everyone in the farmhouse had also seen the truck pull up, others also walked out. Maggie’s dad, probably to truly assess what kind of a man he was dealing with. Carl, seeming cautiously interested, followed close behind by Lori, who probably just didn’t want to let the boy from his sight. Michonne, too, having come back from the Sheriff’s office. 

Negan didn’t say anything yet, just stood there, watching them one-by-one. Even without the bat, he was a naturally intimidating presence, and the way he looked…

Maggie shivered. He looked nearly identical to the way he had done that night. The image wasn’t helped by the fact that it was also getting dark, now, with only the lights from the cars and the porch bringing visibility. 

“You know, didn’t know what I was expecting, but a farm really wasn’t it,” Negan spoke first, with that same dark voice of his. “I don’t mind it, but I do think it could use more securing…”

Daryl snorted. “Ya can help us build a fence if ya know how.”

Negan grinned. “Oh, I can set up a fence for you! Once the outbreak starts. You remember the fence at the sanctuary, Daryl? We can just stick some walkers on sticks.”

While it was clear the man was joking - or at least Maggie hoped so-, it didn’t really seem to land, and she was grateful for the fact that her father stepped up, walking up to the man. 

“You must be Negan,” Hershel said. “You’re the man that killed my son-in-law.”

Negan’s smile faltered slightly at that, his eyes flicking momentarily to Maggie and Glenn, who still hadn’t stopped shaking. 

“I don’t know the details, but I know you took something from my daughter that left a hole in her heart,” Hershel continued. “If I even think you are going to do it again, I will put a bullet in your head.”

Negan smiled. “Got it. Speaking of Maggie…”

Maggie wanted to get up and leave, but she knew Glenn probably needed to be there, even if it hurt. So she stayed, too. 

“You know, I missed the other half of our badass team! I know you must be feeling pretty complicated, now, but we did spend a lot of time together, and I want to introduce you to someone,” Negan said, looking straight at her. Then, he turned back to his car, went to open the other door, and a reluctant-looking woman stepped out. “This is Lucille!”

Glenn couldn’t contain his flinch at the name. 

Maggie looked at the woman. She was beautiful. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a Sunday magazine, not beside the man who had bashed Glenn’s skull in. 

Only… she didn’t even seem to be beside him, her distance from Negan a space full of unanswered questions.

Glenn, then, dragged his head back up from Maggie’s shoulder, clearly wanting to rip the bandage off of the whole experience. His eyes focused on Negan, then Lucille, and Maggie could feel him relaxing when Lucille, the bat, still wasn’t there. 

Glenn stood up, walking to Negan, and Maggie rushed in behind him, trying to support his husband who was understandably shaken. 

Negan, too, seemed to be pretty shaken when he saw Glenn. Echoes of the man's words in the past bounced around in Maggie's head. 

I know I probably owe you more than this, but I am so sorry for what I took from you. 

For what I took from your son. 

“Negan,” Glenn spat out. “You…”

Maggie could see Lucille looking around, visibly confused by the way everyone was reacting to them. 

Negan drew in a deep breath. “Glenn,” he started. “I know we didn't know each other for long, and that I… well. Maggie has told me about you. I know it will never be enough, but I want you to know that I am sorry for killing you.”

Glenn didn't seem any less angry, understandably. Maggie knew the feeling - she'd carried it with her for years, and the calm she felt in Negan's presence was only the product of all the time that had passed. 

Glenn hadn't gotten that time, because of Negan. 

“You-,” Glenn started. “ You killed Abraham. And me. And I will never forget how much you enjoyed it. You took away my chance to ever see my son.”

Negan looked down, seeming genuinely sorry - and Maggie knew he was. He had been trying. 

“I know you saved my son. That doesn't make anything right, but I know what you did, and that is the only reason I am not killing you on sight,” Glenn said, shaking his head. He was trembling, Maggie could see it. “I can't be here.”

Glenn rushed away, and when Maggie went to grab him, Glenn pushed her gently away. “I need to be alone.”

Glenn's departure left a quiet air on the yard and a feeling of hurt in Maggie. She had known seeing Negan wouldn't do him any good, and it was so… weird. 

“That went better than I expected,” Negan said casually. “Much better.”

Maggie raised one of her eyebrows, and Negan smiled. 

“What? I didn't get punched in the face, I take that as a win,” he retorted, before sighing again. “Seriously, though, Maggie - I promise you, no matter what, you won't have to fear for his safety. You should know me enough to know that.”

Maggie nodded. He did indeed know Negan enough to know he wouldn't hurt Glenn, nor anyone else there. 

That seemed to brighten up Negan's mood again, and he glanced at Lucille, who was looking at everyone, the people on the porch, like she could tell something was off but hadn’t figured out what.

Negan’s gaze followed hers, and he suddenly stopped, a grin forming on his face. 

“Oh my god, is that you?” he asked, walking a few steps towards where Carl was standing. “You are adorable, even more than before. Our little serial killer, damn, I missed your face. You’re tiny. ”

Carl didn’t smile, but he did seem intrigued by the whole thing. Lori, though, seemed to be pissed. 

“Don’t talk to him,” she said bluntly, and it was clear that she truly was one of the people that had never known Negan, no real fear in her eyes even when she theoretically knew what he had done. 

Negan looked up from Carl, turning his gaze on Lori. “And you must be his mother, and Judith’s. Carl told me about you. Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know what it is about your genes, but you do have badass children!”

Lori didn’t seem amused, and Carl was glaring at Negan lightly. But, honestly, it was going better than Maggie thought, even when Glenn had, well…

Carol walked up to stand by Negan with a small smile. “You know, I also have a daughter here. If you want, you can meet her.”

There was the ever-present danger in her voice, but Maggie, as well as everyone who had seen Negan's development, knew that he wasn't going to do anything to hurt the children.  

“Carol, you have a daughter?” Negan asked. “I am shocked by all the new relatives I get to meet! It is like a family reunion.”

“Ya can meet my brother, too,” Daryl said dryly. “I think the two of ya would get along.”

Negan clapped his hands together. “Well, look at that, everyone wants to introduce me to their family, now! Anyone else?”

Michonne walked to Negan, clearly considering him carefully. Then, she smiled. “One thing I know about you is that you were good with my daughter. If you want, I can introduce you to my son.”

“Judith was a good girl, really,” Negan said softly. “I am sorry, she… she is gone now, isn’t she?”

Michonne nodded. “I don’t know if it is any easier the second time around. Or, really, the third time around, losing a child. But yes, she is gone.”

Unless Lori was going to sleep with Shane again, Maggie thought.

Speaking of Lori, she was looking towards Lucille, who still seemed to be extremely frantic. 

Maggie decided to speak up. “I think we can continue this lovely reunion tomorrow. It’s pretty late now, and it has been a long day. I feel our guests should get settled in.”

Negan turned to look at her with a smile. “Where shall we sleep? I did bring a tent for myself, I can live with that, or sleep in my car, but I am sure Lucille would appreciate a proper place.”

Lucille still wasn’t really speaking, just… observing everything. And Maggie could tell there was distance between her and Negan, perhaps a similar weight that Maggie now felt with Glenn. The feeling of time that had passed, the disconnect of who she had once been and who she was now. 

She loved Glenn, but they needed time to actually get to know each other again.

“She can sleep with me,” Lori said, walking up to Lucille, and Maggie had to admire the bravery there. Or maybe it was just about the fact that Lori didn’t actually know Negan. “I still value some normalcy, after all, and I assume you don’t want to sleep in a human pile on the living room floor.”

Like most of Rick’s group were doing. Though the coming night was going to be harder, without Rick there. Especially because Daryl, no matter how tough he acted, clearly wasn’t dealing well with Rick being out of his sight. 

Lucille, with a last look towards Negan, followed Lori inside the house. 

Maggie turned to Negan, before anyone else could say anything. “You can sleep in the barn. There is still some space among the supplies, and it is better than sleeping outside.”

She could feel the disapproval due to the idea of letting Negan anywhere near their supplies, especially the weapons haul Daryl had gotten with Rick before he was arrested, but Maggie knew Negan. He wasn’t going to try anything. 

Negan nodded at her with respect. 

And, despite all her protests, Maggie did feel better with Negan on their side.

-

Lori sat on the edge of the bed, fingers laced tightly in her lap, glancing toward the woman in the armchair by the window of her room at the farmhouse.

Lucille had that kind of fragile grace, looking like she might break, yet still staying strong. Lori knew it must’ve been hell for her, if she didn’t know anything about the apocalypse at all. 

Hell, it was hell for Lori, too, even when she hadn’t missed everything. But she had missed so much, and the people she thought she once knew were strangers. Her husband - former husband - especially, but the others, too. Carol, Maggie, they were very different. Carl.

Lori couldn’t imagine how Lucille must’ve felt. She was just... quiet now. And Lori didn’t blame her.

“So,” Lori started, gently. “You hungry?”

Lucille blinked like she hadn’t understood the words. “No. I don’t think I could keep anything down.”

Lori nodded, looking down at her hands. “Fair enough.”

A few beats passed, the silence thick.

Lucille looked out the window, then spoke softly. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up. That I’ll open my eyes and I’ll be in our bedroom in Virginia, and Negan will be beside me. Not... this man. This stranger. I thought having cancer and hearing about him cheating on me with Janine was hard, but this? ”

Lori’s voice was soft. “He’s not a stranger. He’s still the same person, just different… how much do you know?”

Maybe Lori was just trying to convince herself that the man she used to call her husband wasn’t an entirely different person. He was still Rick, just… Lori couldn’t even recognise him.

“Enough to realise that you all think the apocalypse is coming, that you all believe you lived through it,” Lucille said. “He hasn’t said much, but I know enough to know that he is a stranger. The way he talks, the way he acts, the things he believes he has done… they aren’t him.”

Lori shifted slightly. “You’re not the only one trying to catch up, facing new things. I woke up after my death, thinking I’d finally get to reconnect with my husband, only for him to tell me he lived a whole life after me. A new partner, a new child, all that.”

Lori had come to face many other things she didn’t like, too - the casual way Rick had talked of murder, of brutality. The way Carl preferred hanging out with Michonne to even looking at her. The way Rick just dismissed her like she was air, the way most people looked at her like she was… a burden.

“Negan also rambled something about wives, ” Lucille said, shaking her head. “If the difference in him wasn’t so stark, I wouldn’t believe any of it.”

Lori smiled faintly. “That is understandable. I mean, it must sound insane to you.”

“It does. Negan sounds insane,” Lucille said. “And I can tell that while he loves me, he has clearly let me go. He dragged me all the way here, has taken care of me, but he doesn’t really talk at all. He hasn’t kissed me even once since he… remembered.”

“Maybe he has let you go,” Lori said, and then immediately winced. “Sorry.”

“No. I need honesty right now,” Lucille said, her voice flat. “I’m still trying to figure out who my husband is, if I should even call him that now. It just feels like he is a madman wearing his face.”

“I know the feeling,” Lori said, and she could see the way Rick talked about ripping out a man’s throat with his bare teeth. 

They sat in silence again. Downstairs, Lori could hear Merle’s distant complaining about being left handcuffed again. 

Lucille spoke suddenly. “What do I do?”

“What do you mean?”

Lucille turned to her, eyes red-rimmed. “Everyone here knows something I don’t. They look at me like I’m a ghost. I know I didn’t survive the world they remember. I haven’t done any of that, but I know I didn’t. And now I’m here with a husband who... who isn’t really my husband anymore.”

Lori took a deep breath. “Then maybe just start by being you. That’s enough, for now.”

Lucille blinked, clearly not convinced. “You really think that’s enough, when everyone else here knows each other?”

Lori gave her a small smile. “It’s how most of us got through the beginning. From strangers to family.”

Lucille folded her arms tightly across her chest. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for any of this.”

“You don’t have to be strong all at once,” Lori said, standing slowly. “Just stay. You’re not the only one who wants to believe there’s still something normal left.”

-

“What else has Rick told you about the future?”

The Governor was looking at Shane expectantly, and Rick decided to at least have fun with the situation.

“Not enough. I forgot to mention that this guy slept with Andrea, too,” Rick told Shane. “I mean, you had a thing for her for a while, eh? In addition to my wife.”

Shane turned to look at the Governor, then he snorted. “I’d consider that a downgrade.”

Good. Rick needed to antagonise the two men against each other to prevent the worst from happening - Shane teaming up with the Governor. After all, Shane was one of the few people who knew about the farm, and if he told the governor…

Well. In that case, Rick was going to have to make sure neither of the two men walked out of that Sheriff’s station alive. So, he was hoping it wasn’t going to go that way. 

“Alright, Rick,” Shane said, his voice bouncing off metal and concrete, “You just keep on throwing smart remarks. Now, maybe you can actually explain this asshole.”

Shane jerked a thumb toward the man sitting in the cell next to his, across from Rick’s.

The Governor just  sat calmly on the edge of his cot, elbows on knees, eyes sharp. Watching.

Rick exhaled through his nose. “You don’t want to know.”

Shane snorted. “If we’re all locked up in the same damn hallway, seems I should.”

The Governor finally spoke. “He’s got a hell of a way of picking friends, you’re all the same assholes.”

Shane narrowed his eyes. “How do you know Rick? Aside from killing our friends.”

“Oh,” Philip said, smiling darkly, “You could say we go way back.”

Rick straightened. “Not really. Besides, you were just a side guest during our whole outbreak-experience.”

Shane looked between them. “So who is he?”

The Governor shrugged. “Name’s Philip Blake.”

Right. So, now he was willing to give his name out?

“That supposed to mean something to me? Aside from Rick also accusing you of being in a cult, but since I know that is bullshit, well… you don’t seem that impressive.”

Philip leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You got a hell of a bark. You always this loud?”

Shane stepped to the bars. “You wanna find out?”

“Stop it,” Rick said, stepping forward himself, even though he was internally celebrating. “Both of you.”

Shane was fuming. “So, how do you know this guy?”

Rick nodded. “He called himself The Governor. He attacked us many times.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”

“I’m not makin’ it up. He ran a town, Woodbury, with dozens of survivors,” Rick said. “His daughter got turned into a walker, and he kept her with him, like Hershel kept his people, just even more closely. Michonne told me everything about that.”

The mention of Michonne seemed to set Philip’s teeth on edge. “She killed my daughter!”

Rick snorted. “Your daughter was a walker. She wasn’t alive anymore.”

And Rick knew Shane was going to agree with him, considering the way he had felt about Hershel’s barn. 

Shane glanced between them. “And this guy ran a town? And you’re calling me unstable?”

“You’re both delusional in different ways,” Rick said. “But yes, he ran a town, built on lies and deceit. He kept walker heads in fishtanks. And I believe he gunned down a bunch of his own men - at least you were never unstable enough to attack us in broad daylight. Or maybe you just weren’t at that point yet.”

“I guess we’ll never find out, because you killed me, remember?”

Philip’s gaze sharpened at that. “Why did Rick kill you? How?”

Shane laughed dryly. “He stabbed me in the damn chest.”

“I didn’t want to,” Rick clarified. “But you gave me no choice. You brought me out at night, onto a field, with the full intention of ending my life.”

Philip gave a humorless chuckle. “Seems like you do have a way of making people want to kill you.”

“I mean, you do too. Torturing Maggie and Glenn, throwing Daryl into a fighting ring, killing Andrea and Hershel… there’s quite the list of things,” Rick said. “And I still gave you too many chances. In the end, I should have killed you from the very start. I guess that’s a fault of mine - I also gave Shane too many chances.”

Philip stood up now, calm but with menace simmering under his skin. “And what about you, Rick? You think your hands are clean? You haven’t killed or tortured anyone?"

“No,” Rick said flatly. “And it did end up costing me. But I didn’t smile while I did it, at least most of the time.”

Philip snorted. “Does any of that really matter, whether someone enjoys it or not? 

“Of course it doesn’t,” Rick said. “Not really. I guess I would just rather work with people who don’t do killing for the sake of just killing. Though I guess I’ve done some of that, too.”

Shane looked between them. “Christ. What the hell kind of people are you?”

Rick didn’t answer.

Philip did.

“Survivors,” he said. “That’s what we were. And if you hadn’t been put down early, I bet you’d have become a hell of a recruit for my town.”

Rick turned to Shane. “He’s wrong. You made mistakes, you lost your way. But you weren’t like him. You might be unstable, but I would be willing to give you a shot, with time and building trust. Him? Not a chance.”

“You offend me, Rick,” Philip said. “Weren’t you the one that wanted to negotiate? Let’s do some negotiating - you stay away from me and my family, I stay away from yours.”

Rick shook his head. “Like that worked so well the last time, eh? I can’t trust you with that, not after what you did.”

“If you can’t trust me, can you trust the fact that now, I have something to lose again? A second chance.”

Shane ran a hand over his mouth, frowning. “And what the hell are we supposed to do with that? Just be buddies? Let bygones be bygones?”

Rick leaned his head back against the bars. “I don’t know. But I sure as hell don’t trust either of you not to ruin it.”

Shane barked a laugh. “And you think I’d trust you with that either? You’ve already deemed me to be an outsider. You just… ruin everything.”

Philip just watched them both, quiet now - something ticking behind his eyes.

“I just want to keep my daughter and my wife safe,” he said. “I don’t hold a grudge. I will rebuild Woodbury and live a nice life with them there, and you will not destroy that.”

Well. Even if Rick didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him, he had zero plans to go near Woodbury or the prison either way. 

“I have no intention of doing so,” he said. “You don’t come after us, we won’t come after your family. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be happiest if we never met again. But how could I really trust you?”

Maybe, Rick could send someone else to “meet” Philip and end him once and for all. Because no matter the fact that the man had his family back, Rick didn’t trust the supposed lack of grudges. 

“When I started Woodbury, I never set out to be cruel, Rick. I just needed to protect my people, no matter the cost. It seems you can understand that,” Philip said. “When my daughter… something broke in me, I couldn’t do what I had to do. I’m glad she never saw the man I became - but now I have her back, and I have to be that man for her. I won’t come after you.”

Rick didn’t say anything, but honestly? He didn’t believe the other man. It was odd, how Rick just couldn’t see it, even when he could see the possibility of Negan getting a second chance. 

When Rick looked at the governor, he realised that in his mind, some people were just too far gone. 

“How about me, Rick? You think it’d be best if you didn’t see me again either?” 

Rick looked at Shane, assessing. 

“No,” he ended up on. “But I can’t have you in my group. Not right now. Last time, you were hostile towards everyone, you threatened the members of our group, you backstabbed Otis, you… I think the truth is that you didn’t care for anyone there but Lori and Carl, and you would have killed everyone else to keep them safe.”

Shane didn’t answer, and the governor just whistled a bit at everything Shane had done - he probably enjoyed the idea of Rick’s group being hurt. 

“I can’t have that mentality there. When I talk about my people, I mean all of them . Of course I value certain people more, like Carl and Daryl, but I wouldn’t backstab anyone else for them, and I will always look out for all of them. They are all my family. I would do anything to keep them safe, but I know you wouldn’t. Not all of them, just Lori and Carl, and you would hurt the others if that was needed.”

Rick tilted his head. “Besides, for you, all of that happened in the last few weeks. You haven’t had any time to grow, like some others have. And if you tried to act like that among my group again, you would be dead by the first day.”

“Then I will try, man. I have to at least try, right? For Lori,” Shane said. “You said you wouldn’t mind us being together, that it’d be up to her, right?”

Rick nodded. 

“Then I have to try.”

Chapter Text

Friday, August 20th, 2010

It was early in the morning when Maggie left Glenn in her childhood bed, needing some time on her own, with her thoughts. She walked out, passing by a sleeping Merle, who was still cuffed to the radiator. 

Daryl only glanced at her with some interest when she walked past him, being the only one besides Maggie who was awake. The man was fiddling with the arrows of his crossbow, clearly agitated due to Rick’s missing presence. 

Maggie didn’t think anyone besides Daryl was going to be up, but as she started walking the gravel road of their farm, she immediately noticed someone walking the perimeter, inspecting their fence. 

Negan. Of course. It was just Maggie’s luck, and yet she couldn’t help but walk up to the man, believing that he probably was someone that she could talk to without having to worry about anything she said. 

Because really, those days Maggie spent a surprising amount of time doing that. Especially with her family and Glenn.

And most of the time, she felt empty. The hatred she had felt for Negan and the grief she had felt for Glenn had filled her up all those years, along with the presence of her son. Now, with all of that gone, she didn’t really know how to go back to the time before those things existed. 

“You look young,” Maggie told the man as a greeting. Negan looked up from where he was crouching next to the small fence, smiling. 

“Speak for yourself, Maggie,” he said. “How old are you, right now? Twenty? You almost look like the high school kids I used to teach.”

Maggie snorted. “Twenty-two, if you need to know that.”

There was a moment of silence, Negan testing the give of the fence with his hand and frowning. Then he turned back to Maggie again. 

“You know, I am truly , very glad for you Maggie. That you have him back,” he said. “I was telling the truth when I said I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. I wouldn’t take that happiness away from you.”

Maggie sighed. “Maybe now I don’t need to keep listening to your apologies. Or maybe I’ll bash Lucille’s head in with a bat I’ll name Glenn , then we can be even.”

Negan seemed to find the words amusing, and Maggie was glad for that. 

“You want to spend the next few years of our alliance with me hating you?” he asked, before getting serious. “You know, Lucille, I don't know what to do with her.” 

Maggie tilted her head. “You got her back. She clearly means a lot to you. You should talk with her.”

Negan sighed. “I love her, was in love with her back then, but it has been decades since then, in the apocalypse. I am not the same man she loves, and I have moved on. I let go of her. And she, I think, now thinks I am insane. She loves me, but she can't recognise me as the person I was. And I think that even if she can tolerate a lot, she wouldn’t even look at me if she knew everything.”

Maggie had no idea when she had become qualified to be Negan’s therapist. She supposed that in their fucked up world, everyone needed therapy. 

“I guess you need to make a decision. Like Rick with Lori. He didn’t even consider getting back with her, since he had also moved on from her,” Maggie said. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to, just because that is the “right thing” to do. Or if you really love her, like I love Glenn, you should try.”

Negan hummed. “You know, it is really very telling that you aren't afraid of me at all, when it’s just the two of us. You are comfortable with me, even if you didn’t want me here. You are only afraid for the sake of your husband, but you know me, Maggie. You know me.”

Maggie was silent, walking with Negan along the fence. 

“I think you were so angry, not because you hate me for the things in the past, but because you are feeling guilty for the fact that you don't, for the fact that we actually made a really good team. And now, having to face your husband again, you can't look him in the eye unless you convince yourself and everyone else here that you still despise me,” Negan said. “That is why you only talk to me like this when it is just the two of us.”

Well, Maggie couldn’t really deny Negan’s observation there. She had been feeling extremely angry with everything. 

“I feel like… whenever I thought about Glenn, Beth, my dad, I would imagine having them back and things would be perfect. Everything would be fine, I would be happy. All my problems would be fixed. But now I realise that just their presence doesn’t remove all that I had to experience without them,” she said. “I can’t talk to them, because they saw none of it.”

“And you think you can talk to me, because I saw all of it?” Negan asked, turning to properly look at her. “My advice, Maggie - talk to them. With honesty. Tell them about Hershel. Tell them the things you went through while they were gone. Tell them about how we worked together, too, because that is the only way you can move forward. You can't keep secrets from them.”

But that was the thing - talking to people who hadn’t seen all that brutality was hard. Glenn, Beth, Hershel, they were all people that had been lost relatively early on, still. Hell, Maggie had only gotten a year and a half with Glenn, and more than a decade without him, closer to two, and he had been the last of her family to die.

During that time without them, she had changed. 

“Or is it because you feel disconnected from them?” Negan asked pointedly. “It is normal. I mean, with time, you start forgetting things, the way people actually were. Now you just need to reconnect with them, get to know them again. That’s the only way you will move forward with them.”

Maggie swallowed. “You know that I used to see you killing Glenn when I looked at you, right? Now, when I look at Glenn, I can see him dying. I keep trying to protect him from that when I know he is capable of protecting himself.”

“But you still want to be with him, right? So stop trying to treat him like he is about to die at any minute. He will probably be able to tell that you are treating him differently. He is strong in his own right, and you need to focus on figuring that out again.”

Maggie looked into Negan’s dark eyes. “So why aren’t you doing that with Lucille?”

Negan shook his head. “Because I know she can’t protect herself right now, she doesn’t remember the outbreak at all. It is very different. And, at the moment, I don’t plan on rekindling whatever we had back then. Not only because I am a changed man, but because I know she will…”

“She will…?” Maggie asked. Negan swallowed. 

“She will die. Last time, I tried to get her chemo during the outbreak, but to be realistic, Maggie - she has cancer. What do you think her chances are once hospitals won’t work and there will be no electricity, no nothing?” Negan pointed out. “I don’t believe we would even get enough time to try to rekindle anything.”

Negan wasn’t entirely wrong. Yes, there could be a chance to get her some help, it would be extremely difficult, and even if they were in a place like Alexandria, the chances of her survival would be very low. 

“I am sorry,” Maggie said. “It can’t be easy for you.”

“It isn’t,” Negan said. “And yet, she already died once, and I feel like she is already dead. When I talk to her, I feel like talking to a ghost. It isn’t fair on her, but I just… I can’t act normally with her, like I used to.”

“The situation isn’t fair on you either,” Maggie said. “You shouldn’t be expected to act like you used to. I mean, Rick sure as hell isn’t acting like he used to act with Lori. Or even with Michonne.”

That caught Negan’s attention. “Oh? Trouble in paradise?”

Maggie shook her head. “Nothing so dramatic. It’s just… I think Rick feels the same way you do. Disconnected. Even when he loves her, they are both different people now, and they haven’t gotten back together. They are clearly still on good terms, but…”

“But it just doesn’t feel the same?” Negan saif, completing her sentence. “Hell, maybe I have to try and bond with Rick on this, to ease some tension. I would guess he isn’t too fond of me, and we do need to try and function as a group.”

“That’d be a conversation I’d pay to see,” Maggie said. 

“Oh, I will collect that payment sometime, if I manage to let you spy on us,” Negan said. “Maggie - for you, does it feel the same?”

Maggie was thrown by the sudden seriousness, and she paused. She immediately wanted to say yes - because of course, it felt the same. But in her heart, she knew it didn’t. 

“No,” she confirmed. “But I don’t mind making something new with Glenn. That’s the difference between me and Rick - he doesn’t want to try. I do.”

Negan smiled. “Then, you should heed my advice. Actually talk to the man, Maggie. Last night, I could see how distressed he was - and he doesn’t need the false face you’re putting on, he needs you.”

Maggie never thought she would get such sensible advice from a man like Negan, but, well…

“One more thing,” Negan continued. “I am sorry about Hershel. I know there’s always a chance, but…”

But in all honesty, it was likely she was never going to have him back. Maggie sighed, sitting on the grassy ground next to where Negan was crouching, her head in her hands. 

“I feel like I am the only one mourning him,” she said. “Glenn mourns for the baby he never got to see, sure, but I am the only one who thinks of who he was. All the good and bad. I guess some others remember him too, but it isn’t the same.”

Negan sat down next to Maggie, sighing. “I do remember Hershel. I think about him, sometimes. I understand why it would be hard talking with Glenn about him, considering everything that happened with him. But if you really want to keep that connection with your husband, you need to.”

“It’s just… every time I mention Hershel, I know Glenn is thinking of an innocent baby. But Hershel…” Maggie shook her head. “I don’t know if I want to change that image Glenn has. I loved my son unconditionally, but I know he had some issues, probably caused by me. Or you.”

“Hey,” Negan said. “None of that is your fault. And you shouldn’t dwell on the past - the only way ahead in life is forward. If I have learned anything, it is that no matter what you do, there’s always a chance to do better in the future. Now, get up and go talk to that man of yours.”

-

Two FBI agents had dragged Rick out of his jail cell early in the morning, bringing him back to the interrogation room in handcuffs. 

They looked quite efficient compared to the detective Rick had seen the previous day. And it was insane to think that Morales’ attack, all of that, had only happened the day prior. But that was good - the longer the days felt, the more time it was going to feel like they had before everything went to shit.

“So, you’re Rick Grimes,” one of the agents said with a considering tone. “You don’t look like much. A pretty boy police officer, sure, but I don’t see you gutting a man, being a mafia boss, or leading a terrorist organisation, as you have been accused of.”

Well, at least that told Rick what Philip had talked about with the detective. 

“We are now going to go through all the facts of your case, since I feel none of it makes sense,” the other agent stated, pulling out a file and opening it. “On 17th of this month, in the morning, when you were called to help with a car chase, you informed the Sheriff's office that your partner, Shane Walsh, had run off. Then you proceeded to cash in all your vacation days and never showed up again.”

“We don’t know the details of what you did for the rest of the day, but the day after that, you go to another police station and pay the bail for Carol Peletier, who stabbed her husband to death,” the agent stated.  “And then yesterday, you were attacked by Mr. Morales while buying - and make sure I get this right - two machetes, five hatchets, seven crossbows, a huge load of arrows, an uncountable number of knives, along with protection, such as bullet-proof vests.”

Yeah, it might’ve sounded pretty suspicious. 

“That sounds about right,” Rick said. 

“Good,” the agent said. “Then you get attacked, and the attacker calls you a monster. The man you were shopping with, Daryl Dixon, points his crossbow at him, but you clearly command him not to shoot. Then Mr. Dixon tries to fight him off, and once he gets hurt, you snap, and start stabbing Mr. Morales relentlessly.”

Indeed. 

“Once you’re done killing him, you clearly command Mr. Dixon to leave with your car and all the weapons - tampering with evidence. We have no audio for the security cameras, but the witness reports do state you yelled for him to go,” the agent continued. “You don’t resist arrest, but you show no remorse, and tell the officers that Mr. Morales wouldn’t have stopped. You argue self-defence.”

It did sound pretty bad, didn’t it?

“At the station, you ask for a lawyer, and it is Michonne Hawthorne. She is also Carol Peletier’s lawyer. Before that day, as far as we were able to tell, you had never seen her before. Same with Daryl Dixon and Carol Peletier,” the agent stated. “Then Mr. Walsh visits you, turns off any recording of the interrogation room. You talk for some time, and when you are interrupted, he is pointing a gun at you.”

“You are correct,” Rick stated simply. 

“So, those are the facts, now to the speculation - you first said it was simply self-defence, or defence of your friend. Then you argued that it was a cult, and that Mr. Walsh started raving about delusions. I quote you; Like the dead coming back to life, being dead. You also named Philip Blake as a member of the cult, and he accused you of organised crime in his interrogation, but we believe we know what this is actually about.”

Rick really didn’t think they had any idea. “So, what’s your theory?”

“Not a theory, Mr. Grimes. We know,” one of the agents stated firmly. “Not everything, but we know. And so, I only need to ask you a few more questions - do you know Deanna Monroe?”

Rick nearly had a heart attack, hearing the name. 

-

“We need to talk,” Maggie said, walking up to Glenn, who looked tired. 

“Should I be worried?” He asked dryly. 

Maggie shook her head firmly. “No. I just know I need to talk to you. About everything that happened. Because if I don't, I keep trying to shield you from it and we can't keep doing that.”

Glenn made a placating gesture with his hands. “You know I already said you don't have to.”

“I do,” Maggie stated. “I really do. Because if I don't talk to you about it all, we can’t really reconnect the same way.”

“Did Negan say that?” Glenn asked. Maggie froze. “I felt you leave, this morning. You were with him near the fence for a long while.”

“Are you mad about that?” Maggie asked.

Glenn shook his head. “No, Maggie. I am not. As I said, I am not mad about anything. I just want to be with you.”

Maggie walked closer to Glenn, taking his hand between hers. “Sometimes I think you should be. You're just…”

She breathed deeply in and out, and Glenn caressed her cheek with his free hand, a small smile on his face. 

“I can see you're struggling,” Glenn said. “But you know I'd never turn my back on you. Okay?”

Maggie nodded shakily. 

“Good. Now, if you still want to talk, go ahead,” Glenn said. 

Maggie did. 

“You know, it was Negan who told me to go and talk to you, and with the rest of my family,” Maggie said. “I don't talk with him because I've forgiven him, I haven't. I talk with him because it is easy. He knows me, I know him, from the future. He knows everything that happened, he knew our son, everything that happened with him.”

Glenn just listened to Maggie speak. 

“Half the time I don't even like him, and I hate what he did to you, and I hate myself for not hating him anymore. We spent a lot of time together, and he apologized to me for what he took from me,” she said. “And when my head was just filled with ideas of killing him, I knew I had to stop hating him, otherwise it'd kill me too.”

Maggie leaned her face to Glenn's touch, sighing. 

“And I can't hate him, after everything we've been through. I- there's a lot I need to tell you,” Maggie said. “Our son, he…”

There was a moment of silence. Glenn blinked. “Is he gone?”

Maggie shook her head. “No. He betrayed us. Last I saw him, he was so… hateful. And when I talk about him, even when I remember how he was as a kid, it hurts. Glenn, you don't understand - he isn't a kid, not anymore. He was an adult, basically, capable of his own ideas and thinking. He was a person, not just an idea.”

Glenn had stopped moving, wide-eyed. 

“And I know it hurts you never got to see him, but I did, and he was incredible, but I think I also fucked up his life with my hatred for Negan. He believed I was obsessed. And unlike you, I am grieving for a real person who I will never see again,” Maggie said. “It doesn't make your grief any less, but… I had to raise him alone, years and years. Talking with Negan about it helps, because he got to know him, too.”

Maggie clutched Glenn’s hand in hers. 

“And I need you to know him, too. Even if it is through just my words. So that you can grieve him too, not just an idea,” Maggie said. “And I need to talk to you about everything else, too, so that you know who I am now. Because I just… feel lost between who I was and who I am.”

“Alright. Alright, Maggie. Then tell me everything. And remember, I won’t be mad about anything you might’ve done. You can talk to me,” Glenn said as he brushed his hand in Maggie’s hair . “I love you.”

Maggie smiled faintly, knowing the talk was going to be long. 

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

Friday, 20th of August, 2010

Rick nearly had a heart attack, his head snapping up to look the men in front of him in the eye. “Who is she?”

“Mr. Grimes, don’t lie to us,” the agent stated. “Four days ago, the same day that you took your vacation, Mrs. Monroe got in contact with the US government, being a congresswoman, and told an interesting story to us - which we know is true, since she couldn’t have known about some details otherwise.”

Rick pressed his hands to his face, feeling lightheaded. Deanna, really? Had she told the FBI everything? No wonder she hadn’t been answering their calls, if she had decided to do that instead of actually starting to rebuild Alexandria early. 

“Since then, we have started mapping people acting erratically, or giving hints they could also be connected to the situation. You do know Dr. Edwin Jenner too, don’t you? General Beale of the Pennsylvania National Guard?”

Rick was seriously debating the pros and cons of just checking out. Fuck him, honestly. They knew. 

“Based on the people we have talked to, we have gathered quite a bit of information regarding what is going to happen… and we also know a lot about you. But since yesterday, we know that you know too. And while me and my colleague here don’t understand how it is possible, you remember years into the future. Like Mrs. Monroe and General Beale. Dr. Jenner only remembers a few months. Up to their deaths, in each case,” the agent stated. “You remember too, and I suspect so do others you have interacted with in the past few days. Morales, Walsh, Dixon, Blake, Peletier, Hawthorne…”

Rick breathed deeply in and out, clenching his fists slightly. “What is it to you?”

“Nothing, really. You are just one of the people who remembers, and aren’t really special in that regard. So, you do remember, eh?”

Rick’s silence was clear evidence for them. Internally, he was panicking - he hadn’t dealt with governmental agencies in years and years, the closest to that had been stuff at the CRM, and if Beale was also in the know… Rick did not want to be involved in any of their shit. He just wanted to live out his life with his people.

“All the clues start to make sense when you know that, don’t they? Dr. Jenner identified your group as the last one with him at the CDC, and identified Mr. Walsh as one of the people in it, whereas Mrs. Monroe has no idea who he is, so something must’ve happened to him between those two points. Neither of them knew Mr. Morales or Mr. Blake when we asked, so they must’ve been before or after them, or in between.”

“And what are you planning to do with this information?” Rick asked cautiously. 

“We know that within the past few days, there have been many cases of people remembering a life they haven't yet lived. We have talked to a few that came to us, such as Jenner, whose only wish is to continue research on the disease with his wife. The people we have talked to have given us enough information to be able to fortify certain places properly if anything actually happens. That is the plan,” the agent stated. 

“We can’t stop it, not really, and the CDC has actually already known about the Wildfire virus for more than four months by now. There have been plans and preventative measures made, and they clearly didn’t work the last time, so they won’t work this time either.”

They had known and hadn’t stopped it? And they thought something as banal as fortifying was going to be enough? Last time, the military had fallen quite easily, no matter how fortified some of their bases had been. If they actually wanted to stop anything, they needed to find the place where it had all started from, and nuke it.

But did Rick even want that? Could he have, at that point, even lived in the normal world anymore?

No. If Rick was truly honest with himself, he was waiting for the outbreak to start. The normalcy felt sickening to him, when he knew it was never going to last.

“The odd thing is, everyone we talked to remembers you in one way or another,” the agent stated. “We have identified others, aside from the people I told you about. And basically all of them have one thing in common - they, at some point, met you. What is it about you that has made you the common denominator?”

Rick froze. All of them remembered him? That was… freaky.

“I don't know. I am nothing exceptional. Maybe it's just a coincidence, I travelled around quite a bit during the outbreak, met many different communities, fought and led some of them too. I think there must’ve been at least a couple hundred people in my community at some point.” he said.

“Indeed…” the agent said. “We have determined the outbreaks started in France, based on the knowledge Jenner had - but we don't believe it can be stopped. The government has been briefed, and the decision was just to ensure all important officers and leaders, as well as some doctors, scientists, and people of fertile age, are settled into a bunker in a non-disclosed location. It was designed years ago to be self-sustainable in case of nuclear war. Air-tight, so the Wildfire virus, despite being airborne, can’t get in if the bunker has been sealed shut before it starts spreading. That way, perhaps humanity can outlast this.” 

Rick could tell the man didn't actually understand the severity of it all. Honestly, their plan was to send all those rich and powerful assholes into a nuclear bunker? And what they were going to do there, huh? Outlast the outbreak? It was impossible to outlast. And if the bunker ran on things like solar panels, those had an expiration date at some point. They couldn’t go out to fix them either, since that would immediately give the virus a way in.

Just hiding out underground wasn’t sustainable either. Maybe for a few generations, but really? Not even trying to stop it?

Hell, Rick didn't even want him to. After so many years of it, Rick was sick enough in the head to miss the apocalypse. But still, he couldn’t help but feel grossed out by the plan. 

“If you want, you can have a spot there. We have been told you could be an asset. We aren’t offering this to everyone, but since you are the person we have most information on…,” the agent said. Rick scoffed.

“Not offering it to everyone, eh? So I’d have to leave my people behind?” Rick had to ask. “But no, even if you say I’d get to have them all with me. My answer is a definite no. Living underground, in a bunker with politicians and stuck-up officers, would make me go insane.”

Rick didn’t know if any of the others in his group would’ve wanted it, but he was willing to make the decision for all of them, right then and there. They all knew the dangers of the outbreak, the struggles of it, and Rick knew behaving in a bunker like that, with people like that, would’ve been extremely difficult. 

Hell, Rick would’ve started plotting a takeover the first night there. 

But a bunker, in theory, wasn’t a bad idea. What really was safer than that, eh? As long as it wasn’t a fully sealed one like the men in front of Rick were suggesting. But the true issue was the fact that, once in a bunker, the walkers could just trap them there for eternity, surround the entrance and just keep on coming. 

Besides, inside a closed bunker, if anyone died and turned to a walker, it could cause mass chaos in moments. Rick hadn't forgotten what had happened in the prison. 

“That is alright,” the agent said. “We do understand your reluctance. If you were the only one that knew, it wouldn’t be your choice - but since we know many others, now, you aren’t required.”

Thank god for that. Getting kidnapped by one shady powerful organisation was enough for Rick to last a lifetime. And, really, if Beale was involved in the idea in any way, Rick wanted nothing to do with it. 

“Now then, we do have a protocol for how to deal with people who remember,” the agent said. “You will not tell anyone about anything we said regarding the bunker, or the plans. At least not to anyone outside your group. You won’t try anything in the next week or so before the outbreak. Then, since we know why you did what you did to Morales, considering the world you come from, we have been instructed to let you go. Considering how many people we have estimated may remember, we don’t have orders to detain all of you.”

That was it?

“Don’t look so shocked. There was talk about killing all of you to remove the potential for you to talk and cause mass panic, but in the end, the government decided it was more beneficial for the possible survival of humanity if there were at least some people that were prepared for what is coming.”

Well. Rick couldn’t disagree with that. But he was suspicious of it, still.

“You don’t need to ask me any more questions?” Rick wondered. 

“No,” one of the agents said. “You have been labelled as low priority, based on what we have heard. While you were a leader to your people, and you are a police officer with great skills of killing people, you don’t have any knowledge that specifically would interest us, such as regarding the virus, any possible cures, so on, like Jenner, for example, has.”

So, he was low priority. He didn’t know if that was an insult or a compliment. 

“I mean, hell, based on just people’s search history and activities like committing crimes, the FBI has managed to identify around a hundred other people who remember, most near Philadelphia and Virginia. Now, you’re just one added name on the list.”

They were still keeping track of everyone who seemed to remember, in their opinion. Rick didn’t like the idea of being on a list, but at least that meant that, somewhere, there existed a record. 

“If you want to, you can come to any military base with us, or just leave. But we have your name, and if at any point you need help from the military, we know you can at least kill people,” one of the agents stated. “Though I have a feeling you wouldn’t like that.”

The agents stood up, one of them coming to unlock Rick’s handcuffs. “Now, remember what we said. And with that, you are free to go.”

Wasn’t that convenient?

Rick rubbed his wrists, standing up as well. “What about Shane and the g- Philip Blake?”

The agents glanced at each other, before turning to look at Rick. “Of course, they will get the same speech as you have. We have been told to not pick favourites, because truly, you are all seen in the same light; necessary savages. But of course, we will only be telling them what we know they already know. Like with you, we talked about Mrs. Monroe, but we have no reason to mention her to them. Still, we will be talking to them.”

Well, wasn’t that fucking great? Rick probably now needed to wait for Shane to ensure that he definitely didn’t join Philip. After all, the two of them had been left alone in the jail cells for the time that Rick had talked with the agents, and he definitely didn’t want to know what was going on with that conversation.

“One more thing, Mr. Grimes,” one of the agents stated. “Here's a map of a few military facilities we have already evacuated around here. Nothing big, obviously, but I've been told survivors like you would appreciate them. Though we will be giving this to others we identify here as well, such as Mr. Walsh and Mr. Blake, so bear that in mind.”

Rick grabbed the map, thinking thanks for nothing. Because there was no way Rick was going to even entertain going into a war over facilities or territory with Philip again. No chance - he remembered how the last time had gone, and even if they were more prepared now, well. 

There was no chance, unless he knew for certain that Philip was dead. 

“I do have one more question, actually,” Rick said, turning to the agents. “Deanna - did she agree to go to the bunker, if you asked her?”

The agents looked at each other. 

“No. She wants to build her own community.”

Rick nodded. As he suspected. While Deanna had been weak at the start, she had, at least in some ways, learned. And thus, if they ever had a need for it again, Rick knew Alexandria was going to exist.  

Though he had no idea what kind of a place it was going to be. 

-

“You know, if Rick won’t accept you in his group, I would be more than willing to,” Philip told Shane. “You are a strong man, and you clearly have a good set of skills. You would make a fine member.”

“A fine lackey for you is what you mean, eh?” Shane asked. 

“Would you rather be a fine lackey for Rick, just for the privilege of getting to fuck his wife?” 

Shane turned around in his cot, his back on the infuriating man. Ever since the agents had dragged Rick away, he had been forced to listen to him. 

“You know Shane, men like us, men that Rick considers insane, are true survivors. And he knows we are a threat to him. Do you really think, knowing all of that, he would let you anywhere near them?” Philip asked. “Near her?”

“And what, I should just give up, that’s what you’re saying? Become exactly like you?” Shane asked. “No shot, man. I don’t know what kind of a man you think I am, but I ain’t going to work with anyone who killed people I know.”

“But you will work with someone who killed you?” 

Shane sighed, turning back to look at the man. Philip, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless. Sure, he was some inches taller than either Shane or Rick, but that didn’t make him any more intimidating. He didn’t look like someone who callously killed people. 

Then again, he had never imagined Rick killing people either, and he also looked mostly harmless. 

“Rick said you gave him no choice. Why were you going to kill him? Because he didn’t give any justifications for our actions when he was trying to turn us against each other.” 

Shane thought about it - indeed, why had he really tried to kill Rick? He had been on the way of getting to be with Lori and Carl, and the baby, and he had constantly been undermining Shane’s authority. Until the point that Rick had come back, everything had been going fine for Shane. 

And then it had all come crashing down. 

“Because I was angry. And I didn’t think he could keep everyone safe. And I thought I deserved everything he had, that I was strong enough to fight for them when he wasn’t.” Shane said. “I guess he was, in the end. Made me believe he was giving up, then stabbed me right through the heart.”

“Don’t you want revenge for that?” Philip asked. 

Shane looked at him, considering. In the end, he only really found emptiness left behind by his rage. No soaring need for revenge. “No. And I don’t even know if I could have actually killed him, even if I wanted to.”

Philip paused. “How so?

“Because, in the end, I still loved Rick,” Shane said, which made Philip do a double take. 

“Did you have a thing for both him and his wife, or are we talking of brotherly love?”

Shane snorted. “Really?”

“I mean, I remember Merle always talking about his brother like he was that way, and with him being in Rick’s group, why not?”

Shane’s head snapped up. “Wait, Merle? He lived?”

Shane decided not to think about any insinuations regarding Daryl and Rick.

“Yeah. Then he backstabbed me, and I killed him. You knew him, too?” Philip asked, curious. “He had this neat blade in the place of his missing hand, but he was a fine soldier for me. Until his brother came along and ruined that, of course.”

“He does come and ruin things, doesn’t he?” Shane said, shaking his head. “I think, by the time before I died, he had somehow managed to wiggle himself in Rick’s good graces and into my spot as his brother and best friend. And now Rick is of the mind that he would die for that hick.”

“Oh?” Philip said, sounding very interested, now. Shane decided to shut his mouth - it was going to do him no good, spilling his guts to the man if he was trying to have any sort of relationship with Rick anymore, at that point. 

Yet, Shane couldn’t deny that he was feeling pissed off and hurt by the way Rick was acting at that point. Even if he only really felt empty about his own death at the hands of the man, he couldn’t forget everything else. 

Shane could see Rick had changed. Yet, no matter what, Shane could also remember the way that he had been at the farm. Always against Shane, always in the way. And after killing Shane, Rick had gotten more used to his ways? What a hypocrite. 

And now he didn’t want anything to do with Shane, huh? He thought Shane was dangerous?

What danger was there? Rick should have been grateful that he was so willing to protect Carl and Lori, not afraid of what Shane might do. Rick had once said to him that he would have done anything to save Carl’s life, and now that was somehow wrong of Shane to think?

Shane looked at Philip, then, and realised that he didn’t really want to join Rick’s group now. Sure, he wanted to be a part of something, but always trying to keep Rick happy, following the man’s lead, didn’t seem appealing at all. 

“Have you reconsidered?” Philip asked. 

Shane snorted. After all, if he didn’t want to follow one high and mighty asshole like his best friend, why would he want to follow another? At least he knew Rick, if that was what it was about. He would have preferred Rick to the man in the other cell. 

“Nah, man,” Shane said. “You can rot for all I care. I’m going to do my own thing.”

Philip didn’t seem pleased by that. 

When the man was also taken by the agents, same as Rick, Shane hoped that he never got to see his face again. He gave Shane the creeps.

-

Rick waited patiently in the sheriff’s station lobby, for his dearest friend and enemy. He could see some of the others in the lobby eyeing him like he was insane, especially the receptionist, whom Rick had known for years during his job, and who clearly couldn’t recognise the man he had become. 

And who clearly knew what Rick had done to Morales, what he had gotten away with.

Rick pretended to read some news magazine that had been on a table in the middle of the lobby, trying to look inconspicuous - but most likely not succeeding. He knew he probably looked a bit crazy, and Rick wished he at least had his phone with him, so he could’ve called his people. 

He didn’t even know how he was supposed to get to the farm, with the cop cruiser probably in some ditch.  Maybe he just needed to go into the locker room of the station, since he was still technically a Sheriff’s deputy and he hadn’t been dismissed due to the incident. Rick believed that the keys to his personal car were there, in his locker, left there the day he had gotten shot originally.

When the next person walked to the lobby from inside the station, Rick wanted to sigh. Of course he hadn’t gotten the luxury of getting to ambush Shane first and leaving before the governor came out. Philip, whatever. 

The man had a similar map Rick had been handed to in his hand, and when he noticed Rick, he immediately walked up to him with that punchable face of his - and then he sat next to Rick on the couch like he owned the place. 

Rick had to grit his teeth. Even if he had been released by the FBI, it didn’t mean he was allowed to just start gutting people left, right and center in public. 

“Hello, Rick,” Philip said. “If I am not reading the situation wrong, you also got that nice little briefing about the government knowing, and this very same map I now have in my hand.”

“Indeed,” Rick said. “You know, you can use any facility there, I am not planning on any of them.”

Philip seemed to be curious about that. “Why?”

“Because I will not go to a stupid war over territory with you again. I will not have you using it as an excuse to attack my people,” Rick said. “And because I still don’t trust everything I was just told, and even if they claim they chose not to kill us, I can’t help considering the possibility that all of those places are rigged.”

Philip tilted his head. “You saying that to me gives me zero confidence in the idea. If you thought that, I’d think you would just be happy to see me march into one of these facilities.”

“Sure,” Rick said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you die immediately. But even last time, your group was mostly made up of innocents. I’ve come to learn that people are one of the greatest resources. I would kill you if I got the chance, and I would kill as many people as needed to have my way, sure - but bloodshed, when not necessary, isn’t something I want.”

And that was true. While Rick was still debating whether or not to send one of his people on a secret assassination mission to take out the governor in his sleep, he had no grudge against the man’s wife and daughter, nor any of the people that had been innocent in his town. 

“Sure, Rick,” Philip said, taking out the map. “You think the government won’t see it the same way?”

“Maybe they do,” Rick stated. “But it does sound too good to be true, doesn’t it? I mean, seriously, you were also a master of creating stuff that was too good to be true - like that town of yours. And have seen many, many things that were like that. Really, your evil was nothing compared to Terminus, for one. So, with the kind of man you are, would you really just let people like us live?”

Philip tilted his head. “No. What was Terminus?”

Rick didn’t know if he should have told Philip anything - but really, having info on Terminus was harmless. Hell, Rick might have even been happy if Philip decided to use that info to his advantage.

“Cannibals. They put up signs, saying that there’d be sanctuary for all, that people who came to them would survive. Then they butchered them,” Rick stated. “We went there, but they clearly didn’t know who they were dealing with, and we were the end of them.”

“Seems like you are people that ruin any community you come across, eh?” Philip said. Then he took out the map, laid it down onto the table. “How about we make a deal? Similar to the one you once wanted to make. While you say you don’t plan to go to any of these facilities, and I don’t either, our minds can change. For that, I’d say… splitting the map in the middle, the left side could be yours, the right mine, or the other way around.”

Rick should have known it was useless talking to the man.

“No. I remember trying to make that deal, then, and the way you acted. The only way to live was our surrender, according to you. What leverage do you even have now, Philip?” Rick asked. “If I want to go to any facility on that map, I will. I am not making deals with you.”

Blessedly, before Rick had to hear the other man’s answer - though he could predict it based on the flexing of his jaw - Shane walked out, looking tired. Rick stood up, walking to the man. 

“Shane,” he said. “You talked to them?”

Shane looked at Rick. “I don’t answer to you. I don’t need to tell you anything.”

Right. So, the man was having a hissy fit again. Honestly, Rick needed a weather forecast for Shane’s moods, that would’ve been really helpful the last time around. One moment he was being nice, next he was talking shit. 

“I thought you wanted to try,” Rick said. “For Lori.”

“The same manipulation you used before stabbing me, eh?” Shane shook his head. “Sure, I will try, but I am not just going to take orders from you. If you can’t accept me as I am now, I am going to make my own path forward. Because I realise I don’t feel sorry for anything I did.”

That wasn’t good at all. Shane going rogue was one of the worst-case scenarios, especially when he knew exactly where the farm was. 

“Shane-” Rick tried, but he was cut off. 

“No, Rick,” the other man said. Just, no. Don’t worry, I am not going to join Philip, if that’s what you’re worried about. I am not just picking out of two assholes, I am going to go my own way.”

With that, Shane stormed off, and Rick could see a smug smile on Philip’s face. 

Honestly, Rick was very tempted to just kill them both, right then and there. He hated complications, and there were now two big ones walking around.

And anything that was a danger to his people didn’t stand a chance.

Chapter Text

Friday, August 20th, 2010

When Daryl saw an unfamiliar car driving towards the farm around midday, he immediately rushed towards it with his crossbow drawn, ready to shoot any intruders. 

For the entire night and morning, he had been keeping watch, not listening to any worried comments the others were making. Still, despite the sleep deprivation, he was in good enough shape to kill some bastard if they tried to hurt any of them. 

Maybe it looked quite suspicious, considering they were still living in the normal world, but hell if Daryl cared. 

When the car got closer and Daryl could see the driver, his shoulders immediately relaxed, though, his crossbow dropping to dangle on his side. 

Rick. 

Daryl didn’t rush - or that was at least what he told himself - but he did immediately start walking towards the moving vehicle, a sense of relief washing over him. He wanted to smack himself - god, Merle was right, he did sound like an abandoned dog finally getting a glimpse of his owner again. It had only been a day, for christ’s sake. 

Though Daryl had learned to not care about how he was acting - survival didn’t care for embarrassment, after all - and as such, he didn’t really mind if he was proving Merle’s comments right. 

Rick parked near Merle’s truck, stepping out. He was wearing some plain clothes that he had probably gotten from the Sheriff’s Office to replace the absolute bloody mess that his uniform had been, but honestly, Rick looked good in anything. 

“Hey, man,” Daryl said, trying to gauge out any injuries the other might have. “Michonne couldn’t get any answer from the judge on bail, we didn’t think ya would be gettin’ back today. I mean, I was goin’ to organise a prison break, but the others didn’t agree.”

Rick’s smile was contagious, though Daryl could see there was a tense edge to it. Noticing it, he immediately wanted to help ease it. Rick didn’t need any more shit to stress over. 

“You wouldn’t believe this shit even if I told you,” Rick said. “I spent the night in jail talking with Shane and the Governor, the FBI knows about people remembering and they decided to just fuck it and let me go, and last I saw, both Shane and the Governor just walked off to their separate ways as well.”

Daryl needed to tell Rick to stop making his blood pressure rise. He was going to get a heart attack if Rick kept putting himself in dangerous situations. 

“Wha’ ya mean you spent the night talkin’ with those two assholes that both tried to kill ya?” Daryl asked roughly. “What if they’d tried somethin’?”

Daryl hadn’t even noticed he had walked to stand right in front of the man, not before Rick put both his hands on Daryl’s shoulders placatingly.

“I didn’t really have a choice in it, and we were in separate cells,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about it. Really, I am just glad to be back here with you.”

Daryl sighed, looking down like he had done after he had pointed his crossbow at T-Dog all those years ago. “Ya need to stop puttin’ yourself in danger. Especially if I ain’t there.”

Rick moved one of his hands from Daryl’s shoulders to the back of his neck, pressing Daryl’s face against his shoulder. Daryl shuddered at the feeling of closeness, though he didn’t move away, the thought not even crossing his mind. 

“You aren’t responsible for protecting me,” Rick said, his voice rough. “I love it when you do, and I know I can always trust you to have my back. But if something happens to me, it is not your fault.”

Daryl shut his eyes. “Except when it is.”

Daryl could see the moment play in his mind over and over again - the bridge. The shitty way he had treated the other man - his leader, his best friend, before that. Ever since then, Daryl had regretted all of it - and over some asshole like Negan? 

None of that had been worth their partnership. Definitely not worth Rick’s life. 

Rick pushed him back a little, just enough to meet Daryl’s eyes as he tilted his head a bit down. Hell, they were the same height, Daryl was just always hunched over enough to warrant it. 

“We talked about this, Daryl. I don’t blame you for that. Not at all,” Rick said. “And your value is not measured by how well you can protect us. You hear me? We care about you.”

Daryl knew that, of course he did. He had seen that care in many of their actions through all the years. Still, he supposed he had never been able to shake the insecurity that had always existed in him. It had eased with every moment he spent with the group, with Rick, but he still sometimes felt out of place. 

“You, Daryl, are part of our family. My family. I trust you with my life and the lives of all these people here, and I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to protect all of us,” Rick said, moving his hand gently on the back of Daryl’s neck. “But protecting us isn’t the reason you’re a part of our family. Hell, even if you got injured enough that you could never fight or work for us again, you would still be just as important. And even if you ever wanted to leave, I wouldn’t let you.”

There was something dark and possessive in that tone, and Daryl didn’t mind a single bit. “What, ya won’t let me go wanderin’ off with Merle again?” 

Rick’s grip tightened just a bit, and it made Daryl shiver. “Nah. You aren’t Merle’s. You’re mine.”

And Daryl was. For years, now, he had been more Rick’s than he had ever been Merle’s. 

“And don’t forget that, Daryl. When you feel like you need to do more, be better, remember - you don’t have to be anything else, as long as you keep being here, with me. Mine,” Rick said, pulling Daryl to his shoulder once again. “And if I order you to stop blaming yourself, you gotta do it, right?”

Right. That was quite the conundrum - Merle was right about one thing, if Rick said to jump, Daryl only asked how high. But Daryl’s state of mind for the past however many years had been blaming himself. So how could he stop?

“Promise me, if I ever do anything tha’ stupid again, yer gonna beat the shit out of me,” Daryl said. “Don’t hesitate. If I try attackin’ you like that, or try plotting against ya, just shut that shit down.”

Daryl could feel Rick's muscles tensing, his hands tightening momentarily before he let out a breath. “If it makes you feel better, sure. But remember, before it gets to that, if you ever truly disagree with me, just talk.”

“Ya know I ain't the best with talking,” Daryl pointed out. “An’ I can't talk to ya if you throw me into a whole other community.”

Because that had been one of the worst parts of it all. Getting persuaded to lead the Sanctuary, being away from Rick for that time, had been awful. Daryl had felt so alone and even when he knew it was only done because Daryl was someone Rick had trusted, it had hurt. 

Especially when Daryl had seen Rick blow up that bridge, thinking that he had wasted the last months he could've had with the man by trying uselessly work on the Sanctuary. 

“That, I admit, was a mistake,” Rick said. “I never should've sent you away. That was awful of me to do to you, and even if I had Michonne as a partner, you were supposed to be my second-in-command. I should have kept you like this, by my side, at all times.”

And that was all Daryl wanted, really. Hell, even if Rick made decisions he didn't agree with like he had done with Negan back then, it would be so much easier to bear if Rick was just there, if Daryl was able to lean on his leadership. 

Because really, after Rick's supposed death, he had mostly been… drifting. 

“I promise you, Daryl, one thing - from now on, we stay together. Nothing will keep me from having you here, by my side,” Rick pressed their foreheads together, meeting Daryl's eyes. “You hear me?”

Daryl nodded, letting out a shuddering breath. “I hear ya.”

They stood like that for some time, in a much-needed hug, breathing the same air, before they were interrupted by an annoyingly cheerful voice. 

“Rick! Is that you?” 

Daryl’s head snapped to the direction of Negan’s voice, glaring at the man who seemed to be carrying some planks with him. 

“What are ya doin’?” Daryl questioned tightly, feeling the way Rick tensed up just seeing the man. 

“I am working on securing your well. I thought making a proper cover could be a start, eh? Maggie pointed me where to find the tools,” Negan said before turning to Rick again. “Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but damn, Rick! And I thought Daryl aged badly. I didn’t know you could look like this. ”

“Negan,” Rick said with a dark voice. “We are going to talk, now.”

Rick turned back to Daryl for a moment. “Trust me, I can handle this. You can keep watch, but don't intervene.”

With that, Rick walked off with that bow-legged gait of his, straight to Negan, and started by punching him in the face. 

Daryl really needed to get some heart medication to deal with the panics that Rick sometimes put him through. 

-

Rick felt extremely satisfied by the fact that he had gotten to punch Negan. 

Hell, not only did Negan deserve it, but he did also have some pent-up anger from having to deal with two of his other enemies, and now living in the same space with Negan, without the bars of a cell?

Rick deserved some violence. 

“Hell, Rick, you didn't have to do that,” Negan groaned, trying to rise up on the ground, but Rick kicked him down again, crouching to press one of his knees on Negan’s back.

Really, considering that Negan was a good fighter, he was clearly holding back for the sake of not getting an arrow to his head from Daryl, who was ever-loyally watching from the sidelines. Still, Rick didn't care. 

“I remember my last talk with you, Negan,” he started. “You constantly, always, kept thinking you were in charge. And right now, you still act like it. You might be harmless, and you might act like that just because that's the kind of an asshole you are, but you will not disrespect anyone here. Not me, not Daryl, not anyone.”

Negan sighed. “Is this all because I said Daryl aged badly? Jesus, Rick, just kiss the man.”

Negan was still doing it. Poking at them all the fucking time, even when he was down. 

“You know, Negan, I used to think about you a lot, everything you did to me. It was only through my sheer will that I didn't kill you when I slit your throat. And now people around here actually like you, but that doesn't change the fact that you are only here because I allow it,” Rick said. “You can joke around, but you will respect me and the others.”

Negan snorted. “You know, I can't believe I actually missed you, Rick. Those glares of yours. They aren't as effective without that feral look of yours, though. Right now you look like a ken doll.”

Right. Negan was an asshole. 

“Besides, Rick, I've been part of your community for longer than you were. Isn't that insane?”

Rick placed one of his hands in Negan's hair, lifting his head to look him in the eye. “But you don't know everyone here. I do. These are all my people, not yours. I understand what you have done for us - I am grateful for that. Saving Judith, keeping her safe when I was gone. Protecting the community by killing their enemies. But that was then, this is now.”

Rick could see a tired look in Negan's eyes that hadn't been there, all those years ago. He could tell that the other man wasn't really even thinking of fighting against Rick, not really, and that was good. But he could still feel the anger bubbling under his skin. 

“We need to make one thing clear - you follow me. I am the leader. You aren't,” Rick said. “And you will not antagonise anyone here. You will stay in line, do your job, contribute the best you can. As long as you do that, you stay.”

Negan rolled his eyes. “Sure, Rick.”

Rick swallowed, considering his next words. 

“Right when we first met, I remember you killing my friends and pushing me to a point where I truly would have cut my son's arm off. And after that, you told me three things; you answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me. That was the deal,” Rick said, thinking about it only for a moment before he decided to fuck it. “I think it is only fair for me to ask you to repeat those same three things.”

Negan’s expression shifted closer to incredulity. “Really, Rick? Do we have to go there?” 

But Rick wasn't budging. “We do, Negan. Because I don't care about if you're a bad guy or not. I don't care if you've done good, either. What I care about is whether I can trust you to behave.”

“I have been behaving, Rick,” Negan said. “And I will continue doing so.”

But Rick wanted to push that extra mile. “You know, yesterday, I met two of my other enemies. Shane - he used to be my best friend, but he started acting irrational, threatening me, screwing my wife, so I killed him. He killed one of the people currently living here. And Philip, with whom I tried to make deals in the past, but who ended up destroying a community I had built, and also killing one of the people currently living here. You have done the same thing - just more brutally, and you hurt us for longer. 

“So why should I trust you, when I can't trust them, if you can't even say the words you made me say?”

Negan didn't move, and he did look quite tired of the interaction. 

“ Why , Negan?” Rick asked, serious. “ You came to me, asking for shelter for you and your wife. You were granted that, knowing I'm the leader of this group. Knowing that, you answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me.”

“Rick, seriously?” Negan started again, but Rick pressed his head down. 

“I can already tell you understand you can't do anything to me. But I also know I can't scare you, either. And I am not doing this like you did, back then, killing people you love and making you hurt them,” he said. “But I need you to understand that. You are not in charge. I am grateful for what you've done with your second chance, but I need to know you will follow my orders if needed.”

Because while there was some catharsis to the idea of making Negan repeat the words the same way he had made Rick, it wasn't about humiliating the other man, or making him scared. No, Rick just wanted to see an example of Negan being able to behave, as simple as it was. 

“I answer to you, Rick,” Negan said. “I will do my best to provide for this group, for you. But I do not belong to you. I am still my own man, Rick.”

Rick could have been fine with that - hell, he probably even agreed with the sentiment of it. But everyone in their group belonged to Rick - and Rick, in turn, belonged to them. It wasn't about ownership the way it had been with Negan, but the fact they were all each other's and could trust one another unconditionally. 

And if Negan was to be there, he was going to belong to Rick, too. 

“If you are going to be one of us, you belong to me,” Rick said. “Everyone here belongs to me, Negan. I am not making them call themselves ‘Rick’ or whatever bullshit you did, but they belong to me. And I will do anything to protect what belongs to me, but you have to accept that. Once you're in, I will do that for you too. Because I know you have done a lot for my people in my absence, and that you are a productive member of my community.”

Negan sighed. “Sure, why not. I belong to you, Rick. Happy?”

Extremely happy. But it wasn’t enough. 

“Say it once more. All of it,” Rick said. “You answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me.”

“Honestly, Rick…” Negan said. “I answer, to you, I provide for you, I belong to you.”

Rick watched Negan’s expression for a moment, before deciding that it was enough.

“Good.” Rick stood up, as Negan crawled to a sitting position, and Rick held out his hand to the other man. Negan only eyed it warily for a moment before taking it, and Rick dragged him up. 

“Great to have cleared that up,” Rick said. “Now, Negan, have there been any issues since you arrived? I know Maggie was quite against it, and I can't imagine how Glenn feels, but anything worse?”

“I think Maggie might actually be my best friend here,” Negan said, and when Rick gave him an incredulous look, he snorted. “What? Don’t believe me? Ask Daryl. I know she doesn’t actually like me, but she comes to talk to me all on her own.”

Well, that was news to Rick. He turned to look at Daryl, who was still watching them like a hawk. He nodded. 

“That’s good news, then. I’d hate to start breaking up fights among my people this soon,” Rick said. “Where are you and your wife staying?”

Negan nodded towards the barn. “I'm staying there, my wife is with yours. Well, the one you are legally married to.”

With Lori? Well, maybe she could use a friend among them. Carol had been that for her, back before she died, but Carol was a very different person to the way she had been when they had just arrived at the prison, and Lori probably didn’t have anyone else more normal to talk to. Patricia, perhaps, would’ve been the closest to normalcy. Or Annette, but she had been avoiding them. 

“I actually think it isn’t a bad idea for some people to sleep in the barn, to keep watch on our supplies,” Rick said. “But I do want to get you more involved with the rest of the group, too. It isn’t good to create such a clear line of separation between you and the rest of us. So, I think you should have a partner stay with you there.”

Negan looked intrigued. “Oh? And you think any of the fine people in your group would agree to that?”

Rick smiled. “I know the perfect person, actually. Merle. I think you’ll soon find he is even more infuriating than you. Of course, we will switch it up from time to time, get you acquainted with all of us, but for now…”

Rick could only imagine the kind of conversations Merle and Negan were going to have. 

Chapter Text

Friday, August 20th, 2010

Later that day, when everyone that was involved in their future planning was available, Rick gathered all of them once again in the barn. 

Daryl, Michonne, Carl, Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, Lori, Negan, Carol… the others preferred to not be involved. Or, in Merle’s case, Rick had decided to leave him cuffed to the radiator for a few more hours, before he was going to personally escort him to the barn to spend time with Negan.

Rick had the map set up on the table, considering it carefully as the others walked in, Daryl standing glued to his one side, Michonne and Carl on the other. Maggie and Glenn went to stand on the opposite wall from Negan, who was sitting lazily on top of a huge box of rice. 

“I have to explain to you how I got out of jail,” Rick said. “And what new information I now know, that is very relevant to our future.”

Rick looked at everyone in his group, building momentum for his words, before he continued.

“I was arrested for gutting Morales, a saviour that Daryl killed in the previous timeline, when he attacked me and Daryl during our run. I was interrogated, and Shane showed up,” Rick said. “I think all of us here know him, right? I told Michonne about him when we were at Alexandria, and I filled Negan in on the bare bones of it all earlier.”

Rick could see how most people looked pretty unsatisfied with the knowledge that he had been in Shane’s presence. Especially Carl, who had been the one to put the man down all those years ago. And Lori, too. 

Rick remembered the way Lori had held him, whispering in his ear about what a danger Shane was. And yet, she had still been pissed at him for killing the man. 

“He pointed a gun at me, again, when Michonne got in. There was some other stuff, and either way, I got the Governor involved and taken to questioning too. As I already told Daryl, I spent a night in a jail cell next to them two.”

Hershel, despite being a very kind and forgiving man, did look quite put off about the very thought of the governor. No wonder - the man had chopped his head off. Rick was glad that Otis wasn’t in the barn, otherwise he would’ve probably been pissed about Shane, too. 

“He tried making some bullshit deals once again, and I don’t think he is any better than he was before,” Rick said. “Either way, in the morning, I was taken in by the FBI. They asked if I knew Deanna - apparently, the government already knows that people remember a future that hasn’t yet happened. They know about the outbreak.”

That left the barn in silence for a few moments, due to the sheer shock of it. Lori, intriguingly enough, was the first one to speak. 

“So… they are working on stopping it, right? Is it possible that it won’t even happen, that we get to live a normal life?”

Rick shook his head. “The fucked up part is, I was told that the government has already known about the disease for four months. Last time, they worked on preventative measures for that long, and they still didn’t work. Knowing what happened won’t give them any more tools to change the outcome, and their greatest plan is to evacuate their leaders to some bunker to try to outlast it.”

Rick could see the way that crushed any hope that Lori might’ve still had. But, as he had predicted, none of the others seemed too crushed. Perhaps Hershel, a little bit, but the rest of them? They had adapted to the apocalypse, seen the worst of it, and that was their life, now. What else was there for them, really?

“The agents let me go, though they gave me this map, with military locations that they have already evacuated. On paper, that sounds great - secure locations where no walkers will be, eh? But they gave the same map to the governor, and to Shane, and I don’t even know if I trust the FBI not to boobytrap all those locations beforehand.”

Rick threw the map to Daryl, who looked at it for a moment before passing it on.

“My choice is not to go to any of those places,” Rick said. “But I don’t know if the farm will be secure either. We still haven’t gotten any further with the idea of a fence, and Shane knows exactly where we are - he is still being hostile to me. And now he has met the governor, knows his name, so on. I can’t discount the possibility of them working together, and Shane bringing him straight to us.”

That left a grim silence around them. 

“So, my choice - we need to start looking for another place. We will continue fortifying the farm and gathering supplies, but we also have to start looking. Anywhere in the States works, at this point, since the cars and gas stations can still function. We just need to be somewhere nobody knows about,” Rick said, feeling the weight of the decision on his shoulders. “Does anyone have any objections?”

There were none. Maggie, the last time, had mostly objected because she hadn’t wanted to go anywhere closer to Negan, but considering the man was in the same fucking barn, now… and Hershel, despite it being his farm, had seen the way it had easily crumbled the last time. 

And as Rick had thought about the military - some amount of fortification wasn’t going to help in the face of what was going to go down. 

“We need a remote, secure place to stay during the initial outbreak. Far from cities and main roads,” Carol said. “Rick, you weren’t there the last time it happened, you were in a coma, so you don’t know how it was - but we have to be away from all the chaos.”

Rick nodded, appreciating the insight. Because, indeed, last time he had somehow managed to sleep through the world ending. It was going to be a whole new experience for him.

“We could stay here until the worst has blown over,” Michonne said. “Boobytrap the fence, so if anyone tries attacking, they die. Then, once a month or so has passed, we can move on.”

“Or we move now, when we still have a chance to go around without issues,” Carol said. “This time, we won’t get stuck in a highway scavenging for supplies. I won’t go through that again.”

Losing Sophia, Rick thought.

“Most places are still occupied by living people. Prisons, hospitals, other secure facilities…” Rick said, shaking his head. “We can't really go and occupy anything before we're back in lawless land. We can look for places that are already abandoned, though. But we also need multiple back-up plans. This time, we will be prepared.”

“Even if it is occupied by people, now, if it is remote enough, we could go and take it,” Carol pointed out. Rick clenched his jaw. 

“And what? Commit mass murder when there's still a shot of being arrested?” Rick asked. Before Carol could answer, Negan did.

“Funny that that's your only argument,” Negan said from the side. “I mean, you do have a thing for mass murder. Not that I fault you for it.”

Rick clenched his jaw, especially when he noticed the way Glenn shuddered a bit, and he walked up to Negan, looking him straight in the eye. 

“Negan,” he said. “Remember our talk earlier? About respect?”

Negan sighed. “Yes, yes, sir. I answer to you, I provide for you, I belong to you.”

Negan's tone was dripping with sarcasm, but Rick didn't really care. The main point was getting Negan to actually say the words. 

“Next time you disrespect me, or anyone here, you'll do that on your knees,” Rick said, walking back to Daryl’s side. 

Negan snorted. “Kinky. Be careful, I think Daryl might be jealous.”

Negan really wanted to test him, huh? Rick clenched his jaw, considering it. On one hand, he didn't want to antagonise Negan either, knowing that the man was a great asset and had done a lot for the community. 

But then there was that look on Glenn's eyes, and Rick knew there could be no question of who was in charge there. 

So, Rick just stared at Negan, not yet bothering to move, a cold look in his eyes. “Kneel.”

Negan looked at him like he couldn't be serious. But Rick was, indeed, serious. 

He could feel the tension in the air from the rest of the members of his group, and he hated to cause a scene, but it was integral to really establish the dynamic with Negan from the start. His people trusted Rick to keep him in line, and that was exactly what he was going to do. 

“Do it, Negan,” Rick said. “Kneel.”

Negan threw his hands up in exasperation, but he did lower himself to the ground carefully, looking like he really hated it. And indeed, it was different being down on the field with only Daryl watching, compared to this. 

When Negan was on his knees, Rick walked up to him, crouching in front of the other man, meeting his eyes. “Now, Negan. Who do you answer to?”

“You,” Negan said with a sigh. “I answer to you, I provide for you, I belong to you. Happy?”

“Very,” Rick said, standing up again. “As you were.”

He could feel the weight of his people's eyes on him, but he didn't see any disapproval, luckily, despite the fact he was exhibiting more… controlling behaviours. 

The only real look of worry he could see was on Lori's face, who looked quite pale. Rick understood, but honestly, he didn't care. She needed to get used to it. 

He remembered the looks of disapproval he had gotten that night the farm had fallen, when he had declared himself their dictator. The slippery slope that had been.

But it was different, then. 

“Now, where were we before your lovely comments about my love for mass murder?” Rick asked Negan, who had gotten back up. 

“Carol suggested that, if we find something remote enough, we could go and take it even now. You objected, because mass murder is still illegal,” Negan answered.