It’s been a long time since Rick Grimes has known this much peace. Surrounded by high walls that keep the dead—the walkers—on the outside, he finally has something close to a home again. A real bed to sleep in, four solid walls that aren’t rotting or collapsing under vines and creeping vegetation. A roof that keeps the cold out. A bathroom with running water—a luxury he never thought he’d have again—and even warm showers. No more running through the woods in terror, no more sleepless nights listening for groans in the dark. Just the essentials: food, safety, comfort. And, more than anything, community. A place where people can meet, help each other, and live again.

Alexandria.

It makes scavenging for supplies that much easier now. Still, it’s taken Rick a while to adjust—to allow himself moments of rest, to start believing that maybe this place really is what it seems. For now, it’s the best chance they’ve had. Deanna and her husband, Reg, have been generous and welcoming. They’ve survived all this time behind these walls—walls Reg himself built. A lot of luck and that feat of engineering is the only reason this settlement still stands. Rick can’t exactly complain; it’s because of those walls that he and his people now have a place to stay, but it does mean that the people here are a bit... naive and unnacostummed to the outside world and the walkers. It'll be difficult, but he can work with that. Besides, the group’s settled in well—it’s the closest thing to normalcy they’ve felt in a while, a breath of fresh air after endless chaos and death.

He can work with that.

Only now is Rick starting to believe again. Only now is he beginning to loosen the grip on his weapon, to ease up on that “us or them” mentality that’s kept them alive for so long. It’s in that spirit that they’ve started taking people in again—anyone they find while scavenging who might still have a chance.

That’s how he met you.

You’d been alone when they found you—clothes torn, filthy, caked with blood and grime, eyes wide with fear. You looked like they did not long ago: desperate, half-starved, and haunted. They brought you in and straight to the infirmary. That’s where Rick is headed now.

He steps up onto the porch, pushes open the door, and pauses to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside—

—and there you are.

Lying awake in one of the beds, your wounds bandaged, dressed in clean clothes that actually fit and do their job. You already look better.

“Feelin’ better?” Rick asks, his voice calm but steady. He has to ask—looks can deceive, and he knows healing from life out there isn’t just physical.

“You look it,” he adds, stepping closer to the bed. He lets you take him in, watching the guarded way your eyes move over him. You’re wary. That’s fine. He understands. He was the same way when he first walked through these walls.