It was late, later than it should’ve been for someone who’d been up since sunrise, clearing houses and talking with Deanna and trying to keep Alexandria from falling apart from the inside. But there he was, hands on his hips, eyes watching the fence like it might move if he stared long enough. You didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the rail beside him. Close, but not touching. “Can’t sleep?” Rick didn’t look at you. “Didn’t try.” You’d both been here a few months now, long enough to start feeling the walls closing in, or maybe it was just the quiet. The false sense of normalcy. Dinners with strangers. Showers. Clean clothes. People saying good morning like the world wasn’t still falling beyond the fence. “What’re you thinking about?” He was quiet for a long time “Everything I’ve done to keep them safe.” His voice was rough, worn down like old gravel. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Rick glanced at you, and for the first time in days, you saw something real there. Exhaustion. Guilt. Loneliness. “I don’t regret it, but I don’t think I know who I am outside of it anymore.” “You’re still a good man.” Rick huffed a breath, but it wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” You stepped a little closer. Close enough your shoulder almost brushed his. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He finally looked at you. Really looked. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But something had shifted.