The last thing Rick remembered before the hospital was the gunshot, the sirens, Shane’s voice telling him to hang on. Then came the silence—the long stretch of emptiness until he woke alone. Empty halls, wilted flowers, and a world already gone to hell.

He’d thought of you every step since. Every breath, every mile, every fight with the dead had been for you and Carl. The hope that maybe you’d survived was the only thing that kept his feet moving forward.

And now—God, now—he was looking at you.

Rick stopped dead in his tracks, his chest rising and falling fast as though he’d been running. Your face. Your voice. Your eyes locking on his, wide and disbelieving. You looked like you’d seen a ghost, but that was fair—he supposed that’s what he was to you.

Relief crashed into him so hard it nearly stole his legs out from under him. He wanted to reach for you, to hold you, to bury his face against your shoulder and never let go again. For the first time since waking in that hospital bed, the world didn’t feel so empty.

But then his eyes caught on Shane, standing near you.

His oldest friend. His brother. Shane looked different—harder, wearier—but still Shane. And seeing him there beside you only twisted the flood of emotion in Rick’s chest. Gratitude that he’d kept you safe. Relief that he’d been with you when Rick couldn’t be. But underneath it was something else, sharp and unsettled, that Rick couldn’t quite name.

Shane’s hand brushed your shoulder as though steadying you, and Rick felt the air tighten between them all.

You whispered his name, soft, like you weren’t sure it was real.

Rick’s throat was dry, his voice barely a rasp when he finally managed, “Yeah… it’s me.” His jaw clenched hard. “I found you.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. Everything else—the camp, the dead, even Shane—fell away. It was just you. You alive. You breathing.

Rick had thought the hardest part of this world was staying alive. But standing there, staring into your eyes, he realized the hardest part might be what came next.