𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"DAD! Watch out!" Casey shouted.

Rick had only turned his back for a second when Morgan suddenly lunged at him. He'd been watching over Morgan while Casey sat nearby, both of them bored after waiting around for too long. But now, Morgan had attacked, catching Rick off guard while he was examining a rifle.

Rick shoved Morgan backward, sending him crashing onto a pile of boxes. He gripped the rifle tightly in his right hand while extending his left to keep some distance between them.

Casey jumped to her feet, her small hands shaking as she pulled out her gun. She cocked the hammer back, her wide eyes locked on the fight in front of her.

"Do you know who I am? Do you see who I am?" Rick shouted. He turned, only to find Casey standing there with her gun raised.

"People wearin' dead people's faces!" Morgan yelled.

Casey grimaced. That was disgusting.

"Morgan, listen to me," Rick said, his voice firm but calm.

"No! I don't know you!" Morgan snapped.

"You do know me!" Rick insisted.

But that only made Morgan angrier. His eyes burned with fury as he pushed himself up from the boxes and shoved Rick hard.

"I don't know you!" Morgan shouted.

Rick barely had time to react before Morgan came at him again, a knife now clutched in his hand. Rick caught his wrists, slamming him against the wall covered in Morgan's frantic scribbles.

"You saved my life, Morgan! You know me! Look at me!" Rick yelled, holding Morgan's arms tight.

Morgan let out low, animalistic grunts, struggling against Rick's grip. Then, suddenly, he broke free and threw a punch, knocking Rick to the ground.

Before Rick could react, Morgan was on top of him, his knife pressing into Rick's chest.

"You don't clear, man! You turn! You just die!" Morgan ranted.

Casey's heart pounded as she ran up behind him, raising her gun with both hands.

"Drop it!" she screamed, her small voice trembling.

Morgan froze as the cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.

"I said drop it!" Casey's breaths were quick and uneven. She pressed the gun harder against him, her finger tightening on the trigger.

But Morgan didn't drop the knife. Instead, he drove it into Rick's shoulder.

Rick gritted his teeth and shoved him off, just as Casey fired her gun.

Morgan hit the ground, stunned. Rick groaned, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder as he scrambled back to his feet. He aimed his gun at Morgan, fury flashing in his eyes.

"You know me! You crazy son of a bitch!" Rick shouted.

Morgan lay there, looking up at Rick with wide, pleading eyes. Casey expected him to beg for his life. But instead...

"Please," Morgan whispered, grabbing Rick's wrist trying to pull the gun to his head. His voice cracked. His eyes were desperate, broken.

"Please kill me..."

Morgan kept pleading, his voice breaking with every word as Rick tightened the zipties around his wrists. His hands trembled, but Rick remained steady, his face unreadable. Casey, meanwhile, was already digging through a worn-out first aid kit, her small fingers fumbling as she searched for bandages. She knew Rick was hurt bad, the knife had gone deep.

Her heart pounded as she pulled out a roll of bandages, pushing her tangled hair behind her ears before hurrying back to Rick.

"Here," she said, her voice small but firm.

Rick took the bandages, giving her a quick nod of thanks. He peeled his bloodied shirt off, exposing the deep wound on his shoulder. Casey sucked in a sharp breath. It looked even worse than she thought—red, raw, and bleeding.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her wide eyes filled with concern.

Rick started wrapping the bandage around his shoulder, wincing slightly as he pulled it tight. "I'm alright," he muttered, though the pain in his voice was obvious.

But Morgan wasn't done. He was still on the ground, bound and broken, his body shaking as he whispered the same desperate words over and over again.

"Just kill me. Just kill me. Just—just kill me."

Rick pulled his shirt back on, his movements slow. His eyes locked onto Morgan, his expression a mix of pity and frustration.

"You found me last year in my front yard, Morgan," Rick said suddenly, his voice calm but firm. "You found me. You fed me. You told me what was happening. You saved me. My name is Rick Grimes. You know me. I'm not wearing a dead man's face."

Rick reached into his bag and pulled out a small, scratched-up radio. He held it up in front of Morgan, his grip tight.

"I gave you this," Rick said, his voice quieter now. "I said I'd turn it on every day at dawn so you could find me."

Morgan stared at the radio, his breath coming out in shaky gasps. Something flickered in his eyes—recognition.

Casey sat nearby, hugging her knees to her chest, her fingers twisting the fabric of the bandana wrapped around her wrist. She let out a tiny sigh when she saw the way Morgan's face changed.

"Rick?" Morgan whispered, his voice raw. "I know you—Oh, man. Damn it, I—I know you. I know who you are."

Rick stayed silent, waiting.

"You said you'd turn yours on at dawn. That's what you said," Morgan continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I mean, I hadn't worked up to it yet, and—then I did. On the roof. Every morning. For days. For weeks. Me and my boy. And then... just me. Nothing but static. Nothing but nothing."

Rick lowered his gaze, guilt settling deep in his chest.

Morgan's expression hardened. "You weren't there. You weren't never there."

Rick's jaw clenched. "I was."

"No, not when I tried!" Morgan snapped, his voice rising. "You said you would turn on your radio every day at dawn!"

Rick tried to explain. "Morgan, I—"

"You said you would turn on your radio—"

"I did!"

"—every day at dawn, and you were not there!" Morgan screamed, his whole body shaking.

Rick stared at him, stunned into silence. His throat tightened, and he wiped his forehead, looking down.

When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy. "I kept gettin'—I kept gettin' pushed farther out. I had to. I didn't have a choice. I found my wife and my kids. I had people. I—I had to keep them safe. We kept getting pushed back, deeper into the country. I swear to God, I didn't have a choice."

Morgan's eyes darkened, and without warning, he kicked the radio across the floor. It skidded to a stop near Rick's feet.

"You can have your radio back, 'cause it looks like I finally found you!" Morgan spat, his voice filled with anger and pain. "You found your wife, your son, and your daughters. That's what happened, right? You found them."

Rick just nodded. The room was deathly silent.

Morgan tilted his head. "And did they—did she—did your wife—did she turn?"

Rick didn't answer at first. Casey, who had been staring at the floor, tensed at the mention of Lori. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to push away the memories.

Rick's voice was barely above a whisper. "No. She died."

Morgan let out a humorless chuckle. "So you didn't have to see that, then. Of course not. Not like me. No."

Casey bit her lip hard. She hated this conversation.

Morgan's eyes went distant. "Not like me. Not like my wife. You remember what happened to her? You remember what she was?"

Rick didn't move. Morgan let out a deep, shaky breath.

"Oh... You gave me the gun. You tried."

Rick frowned. "What did I try, Morgan?"

Morgan laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "What did I try?" Rick asked again, crouching down.

Morgan's voice broke. "You tried to get me to do it 'cause I was s'posed to do it. I was supposed to kill her. My Jenny."

His whole body trembled. "Knew I was supposed to. But I let it go. Let it go like there wasn't gonna be a reckonin'."

His breaths grew uneven, his fingers twitching as he spoke.

"We was always lookin' for food. You know it always came down to food. And I was—I was checkin' out a cellar, and I didn't want Duane to come down there with me. And then when I came up..." His voice cracked, his face twisting in pain.

"She was standin' there. Right in front of him. And he had his gun up, and he couldn't do it."

Rick's face remained unreadable, but his eyes softened with sympathy. Casey sat still, hugging her knees, barely breathing.

Morgan's voice turned hoarse. "So I called to him. And he turned. And then she was just—just in him."

His breath hitched. "And I see red. I see red. Everything is red. Everything I see is red! And I do it! Finally. Finally was too late."

He hunched over, his face full of guilt. "I was supposed to. I was selfish. I was weak." He shook his head before looking at Rick. "You gave me the gun."

Silence.

Then Morgan's voice dropped. "Hey, your boy—your girl, they dead?"

Casey's stomach twisted. She felt sick.

Rick didn't hesitate. "No."

Morgan scoffed. "No? They will be."

Casey swallowed hard, looking up at Rick.

Morgan's voice was eerily calm. "See, 'cause people like you—the good people, they always die. And the bad people do, too."

His eyes darkened, filled with grief. "But the weak people—the people like me... We have inherited the earth."

Tears rolled down his face, and Casey clenched her fists. She didn't want to hear any more. She just wanted this all to be over.

It was quiet up in Morgan's place. Casey sat there playing with her bandana again. Rick walked over to the window, buttoning his shirt as he looked out. "I'm not gonna kill you." He broke the silence before walking over. "I don't think that's what's s'posed to happen. I think you're s'posed to come back with us." Morgan laughed as Rick cut his zip ties from his wrists.

"After all that? After me tryin' to blow your head off, stab your heart out, happily ever after together?" Morgan asked him.

"You couldn't kill me, I couldn't kill you. I'll take that as a sign." Morgan sighed.

"Your girl nearly blew my head off-" He laughed, Casey took a deep breath.

"Murderer." She heard the voice in her head repeating. She bit the inside of her lip, clenching her fists.

"We found a prison. The fences can keep 'em out. " Rick told him, wanting him to come along.

"Is that where your wife died?" Rick stayed quiet. "Just go. Don't go back. Don't stop. Just get yourself some more time..."

Rick crouched down in front of him. "Look, I can help you. You can come back with us. You can heal." Rick tried to convince him.

"You're takin' a lot of guns, Rick. No Im just sayin' that that all is a lot of guns. Why do you need the guns, Rick? 'Cause if ya got something good, that just means there's someone who wants to take it. And that is what is happening, right?" Morgan asked him.

"We're gonna win."

Morgan chuckled again.

"You can be there. You can help."

"You will either be torn apart by teeth or bullets. You and your kids. Your people. But not me! Because I am not gonna watch that happen again." Rick stared at him in disbelief. "Man, you take the guns." He got off the floor. Casey glanced at him, making sure he wouldn't go crazy again.

"You know there's a chance. That's what you can't square. That's what hurts! You know there's a chance." Rick told him.

"I don't think you heard a damn word that I said!"

Casey held her breath in the silence. She didn't know what to do or say. She stared at the bullet hole she left in Morgan's floor. She pursed her lips, listening to what else Rick had to say. "We both started out in the same place. Things went bad for you things went bad for me. But you're not seeing things right. I don't blame you, what you've lost, what you've been through. You're not seein' things right, but you can come back from this. I know you can. You have to. This can't be it. It can't be. You gotta be able to come back from this." He told Morgan, stepping forward and facing him. The floorboards creaked below him.

"No!"

"Morgan please."

"No! I have to clear. That's why I didn't die today. That's the sign. I have to man, I have to. I have to clear." Morgan shrugged, earning a stare and a nod from Rick. He walked away, picking up a bag of guns. He patted Casey on the back, a motion for her to get up. She followed behind him, not sending any last glances.

The two walked out, down the stairs and outside. Morgan was outside, clearing our walker bodies. "Let me take something," Casey commanded, seeing as Rick was trying to carry too much. He sighed, handing her the bag on his back.

"Thank you," Casey nodded, putting the strap over her shoulder.

She looked up seeing Michonne and Carl walking over with a crib. "Hey. We were just about to look for you."

"Sorry," Carl apologized.

"It's alright. You're here now." Carl seemed to notice the blood on Rick's shoulder and he furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh, it's nothin'." rick handed Michonne another bag, thanking her.

The three walked to the car, past Morgan.

"He's okay." Michonne says, Rick shook his head.

"No, he's not." Rick told her, Casey nodded her head in agreement.

"Wait." Carl stopped suddenly. "Hey-"

"Carl,"

"Morgan! I had to shoot you. You know I had to, right? I'm sorry." Morgan nodded his head, staring at him. He walked over to Carl, stopping in front of him.

"Hey, son. Don't ever be sorry." He turned away and got back to putting a walker back down. Casey walked to the car with everyone, filling the trunk up with them.

It had been a long day...

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