(you will quite literally never guess who he's glaring at LMAO)

___

A/N: Hi lovelies! I wanted to start with (yet another) thank you to all of you wonderful people who spend your time reading this fic, it is still mindblowing to me, and I will never stop being grateful :') the love on tiktok has been amazing too, a huge thank you to anyone who follows me and/or comments on there, it is so fun to share my edits with you! (and the spoilers too hehe)

For this chapter, I'm gonna ask you to suspend your disbelief for something that will happen (which is incredibly unlikely) but I'm making it happen simply because I want it to :)

Oh! Last thing, I created a Spotify playlist of songs that I either listen to a shit-ton while writing or that I associate with Cass/Rick and their story :) if you would like to listen to it, here's the link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2oU85V4SV8rpZbr07TqNzV?si=93cab1d100124d22

___

- Rick's POV -

Nervous energy courses through me as I stride purposefully past the lake, each step reverberating the rapid beating of my heart. The gravity of what I'm about to do intensifies with every passing moment. To go after the woman I love, despite both her and my brother telling me not to.

But I can't. I can't just sit here like an idiot while she's going through hell. That asshole- the loud, cruel dick has no right to hold her hostage, let alone lay a hand on her.

Just yesterday, my family was telling me that she was dead. I spent months trying to find her- I'm not going to just give up now.

Rummaging through the armory, my hands instinctively find one of the few remaining rifles salvaged after the Saviors pillaged our supplies. The cold steel of the weapon presses against my palm, its weight a stark reminder of the urgency gnawing at me. The urgency to find her. To find the Sanctuary and get my wife back.

I'm well aware questioning Daryl is a waste of time, there's no way he'll tell me. He's too loyal to Cass and her ridiculous order to keep me here, twiddling my thumbs like a dumbass. From his story, the time Cass helped him escape and the time he got here, I figure it can't be too far. I have to trust my instincts, pick a direction, and hope it leads me to her.

"What are you doing, Rick?" A voice suddenly speaks up from behind, freezing me in the midst of stuffing ammo into my pocket. I pivot slowly, meeting Morgan's inquisitive gaze. He stands in the doorway, his trusty stick in hand as always, his eyes fixed on my gun and the ammunition clutched in my hands.

"I-" I falter, uncertainty gripping me, wondering if I should make up some lie or excuse to make sure he doesn't go telling everyone else before I get a chance to leave.

But Morgan beats me to it. "You're going after her, aren't you?" he asks calmly, turning his head slightly, his dark eyes piercing into mine.

I swallow hard, conveying my resolve with a single nod as I meet Morgan's gaze. The metallic click of the magazine sliding into my gun punctuates the weight of my decision, echoing in the quiet space as I sling the gun over my shoulder.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Morgan inquires cautiously as I stride past him out of the armory, with him trailing closely behind.

"Probably," I grunt in response, pulling my jacket tight against the cool midnight air.

God knows what I'll find if I get there. All I know is I need to try. I'm not just gonna sit at home like some coward while Cass and Louise are going through hell.

"I'm guessing I can't talk you out of it," Morgan observes, as he walks beside me. I shoot him a look, and he meets my gaze with a hint of anticipation.

"Not a chance," I confirm as we stride past my home, its lights still glowing. They'll be just fine.

"Then let me come with you," Morgan proposes, causing me to stop and turn back, genuinely surprised.

"You want to come?" I ask dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Morgan nods, walking past me to unlock the gate. "I want to find Negan for my own reasons. Two people are better than one," he explains, his hand on the gate, turning to look back at me.

I blink. Wasn't expecting that.

"And I have a map," Morgan adds, holding up the folded piece of paper, eliciting a subtle smile from me as I nod.

"Alright, let's go," I confirm with a nod, trailing behind Morgan into the night, and slamming the gate closed behind us, ensuring it's securely closed.

___

From Morgan's map, we spotted three potential nearby areas where the Sanctuary could be- places with enough space to accommodate the reported number of people Daryl mentioned.

One option is a nearby college, its large campus capable of housing a significant population. Another prospect is a vast commercial farm, offering both space and resources. Lastly, an industrial complex, dotted with factories, stands as the third potential place.

Although the locations are in completely different directions, they all fall within reasonable distances considering Daryl's travel time. Our first destination is the college.

Morgan and I trudge through the woods, with him taking the lead, his flashlight intermittently illuminating the map. The silence around us is palpable as we forge ahead, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Cass.

I wonder about what must be going through her mind- what she's doing. How she's doing.

I still can't figure out why she let Daryl go but didn't bother to follow herself.

Is it because of Louise? God, Louise. It's been almost four years since I last saw her. The last I heard before I was shot, was that she was living it up in Brooklyn with a new motorcycle boyfriend to replace the last.

And now, she's with Cass. My heart pulls at the idea of the two of them together. My sister and the woman I love.

Then, a sinking feeling creeps into my stomach as I reconsider that point. My little sister, the one who relishes teasing me by telling every single one of my girlfriends about my most embarrassing memories, is now alone with Cass.

Damnit. I know she's told her the church story by now.

Despite the dread of the inevitability of my little sister's antics, a reluctant smile pulls at my face. I missed thinking about her.

I hope they're okay.

The thought of Louise being in the clutches of that sadistic bastard only fuels my determination to end his pathetic existence. He not only kidnapped and is holding my future wife hostage but did the same with my sister.

And he's going to pay for it. Fucking pay.

I've always been fiercely protective of Louise, particularly when it came to her ill-advised choices in dumbass 'bad boy' boyfriends. They all treated her like shit, and she just let them. I'll never approve of any man who wants her- who touches her- my sister. Let alone Negan.

I clench my jaw tightly, attempting to rein in the blinding rage coursing through my veins at the mere thought of that monster and the way he's ruthlessly dismantled my life in a matter of months.

Struggling to regulate my heaving chest and the vivid anger surging within me, I trudge after Morgan, my mind racing. So absorbed in my thoughts, I fail to notice Morgan coming to a stop, leading me to collide with his back.

He shushes me before I can question what's happening, making me stop. Before us, in the dim morning light, lies a camp. A recently extinguished campfire emits faint trails of smoke from charred logs, a metal cup lodged in the dirt beside it.

Opposite the fire is a single green sleeping bag, beside a large hiker's bag, stuffed to the brim with supplies.

A sinking feeling creeps up my spine. It's someone's camp... either recently abandoned or possibly still occupied.

We might've just walked into a trap.

Through my widened eyes, I spot Morgan's grip tightening on his stick, prompting me to reach for my gun, the rifle slung over my back.

Before my fingers can secure the metal of my weapon, a low, rumbling male voice slices through the early morning air, jolting me.

"Not so fast, son."

The voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I freeze, a bead of cold sweat forming on my forehead. I exchange a glance with Morgan as I realize the voice is coming from right behind me.

"I want to see your hands. Both of you," the man demands, causing me to close my eyes for a moment.

Shit.

"I'm old and impatient, do as I say or I will shoot you." the stranger orders, his voice even more firm than before. I sigh, raising my hands in surrender as Morgan carefully places his stick on the ground beside him.

Slowly, I turn my head to the right, my expression hardened as I glance behind me.

In the woods, just as I anticipated, stands an older man, in his early to mid-sixties. His sharp face is taken over by a grey beard and dark-rimmed glasses as he stares me down, his hunting rifle aimed right at my forehead.

"Now, what the hell are you two doing in my camp?" the man growls, narrowing his eyes with determination.

"Just passing through, sir," Morgan replies quickly, his voice even and calm. I glance over to see him facing the stranger with a kind and unassuming expression on his face.

"'Sir'?" the stranger echoes, his voice laced with amusement, pulling my attention from Morgan to see his raised eyebrows and surprised expression. "I really am getting closer to the South," he mutters mostly to himself, shaking his head slightly.

While the man's attention wavers for a brief moment, my eyes quickly drop to his rifle, noticing his grip easing. Seizing the opportunity without hesitation, I drive forward, deftly dislodging the weapon from the stranger's hands. A startled sound escapes him as I seamlessly flip the rifle into my secure grasp, swiftly aiming its barrel at his heart.

"Rick!" Morgan's urgent call pierces the air as I confront the older man, my chest rising and falling with intensity, my hands clamped firmly around the firearm.

In stunned silence, the man locks eyes with me, his eyebrows arching, and mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, acknowledging the abrupt shift in control.

"Where is he?" I growl menacingly, fixing a penetrating stare on the stranger. His bewildered expression meets my glare, blinking in confusion.

"W-Who?" he stammers, his eyes flickering nervously between Morgan and me. His gaze narrows as if trying to assess the gravity of the situation- to assess us.

"You know damn well who I'm talkin' about," I retort in a low, gravelly tone, my emotions adding weight to each word. Leaning in, I punctuate my demand by prodding his shoulder roughly with the end of the rifle. "Negan," I add hoarsely, ensuring the resonance of the name hangs heavily in the charged air.

After walking the entire night, I'm exhausted and frustrated. I just want to find them. I'm tired of the endless search that leads nowhere.

I can't do it again.

Blinking back the sudden hot tears of frustration begging to come out, I readjust my grip on the gun, shifting on my feet as I wait for this asshole to answer me.

The man shifts uncomfortably, glancing nervously between Morgan and me. "I'm sorry. Who?" he repeats, genuine confusion etched across his face. I fix my exhausted eyes on him for a moment, frustration and weariness evident in my expression.

This stranger doesn't exactly scream 'Savior,' and judging by his empty camp, he's probably alone.

I mutter a curse under my breath, shoulders slumping slightly with disappointment. I keep the rifle aimed carefully at him nonetheless, my grip never wavering.

"I'm sorry. We're looking for someone. We don't want any trouble, just to keep looking." Morgan explains, his voice even and reasonable like usual. His calm logic seems to ease the stranger's fear slightly, who seems more confused than angry at this point.

Blinking away my hunger and exhaustion, I nod to Morgan's words, readjusting my grip on the rifle.

The man shifts his gaze on me. "Alright, I'll let you on your way. But can I get my rifle back? It's the only weapon I got," he asks earnestly, prompting me to hesitate. I don't want to give it back only for him to shoot us.

The stranger frowns, clicking his tongue with disappointment as he seems to read my mind. "How about I whip up some breakfast? You look just as tired and hungry as I am. Maybe we can help each other," he suggests, his voice no longer lowered with anger, causing a flicker of suspicion to go through me.

Squinting at him with distrust, the man meets my gaze. What seems to be understanding glints in his eyes, slightly shielded behind his foggy glasses.

"Look. I'm searching for someone too, I get it." he continues, his expression turning somber as he deliberately looks between us. His focus lands on me, and his eyes briefly dart down to the gun still firmly clutched in my hands. "You can keep that thing pointed at me if you want," he directs to me, looking at me cautiously, prompting me to narrow my eyes in response.

Morgan chimes in from my side, "Sounds like a plan," making me whip my head in his direction incredulously. He widens his eyes subtly, coaxing an exhale of reluctant agreement from me.

"Fine," I grumble, prompting a relieved smile from the stranger.

___

Morgan, the man, and I sit around the dying fire, eating the baked beans the man has shared with us. I chew the beans as if they're cotton, staring at the charred logs crumbling into ash, my stomach twisting with dread. I hate sitting here like this- I need to keep going, keep looking.

"Thank you for sharing your food, we appreciate it," Morgan tells the stranger genuinely, with that same wise, peaceful demeanor that I'm still not used to.

The stranger smiles warmly, the subtle wrinkles by his partially obscured eyes crinkling as he does. "You're welcome... sorry what's your name?" the man questions, tilting his head to the side curiously, lowering his empty plate of beans.

"Morgan Jones," Morgan informs the stranger, who nods, looking down thoughtfully, before settling his gaze on me.

We're wasting time. We could be miles closer to the college by now.

"And you're... Rick?" The stranger asks me, making me turn to him. He looks at me, blinking expectantly for a moment.

Clenching my jaw, blinking through my haze of deep thinking, I nod once in confirmation.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Nathaniel, but my friends call me Nathan." the stranger, Nathaniel, informs us, his wide smile moving his greyed beard.

"Friends?" I retort dryly, my gaze purposefully sweeping the desolate camp around us. I swear to god if there's more-

But Nathaniel just chuckles warmly, taking me by surprise. "Touché. I guess I haven't had friends in a while," he muses with a shrug, making me squint my eyes at him, attempting to decipher the enigma before me.

What is with this guy?

"You said you were looking for someone?" Morgan asks from my right, scraping the bottom of the can of beans loudly as I continue to scrutinize the man in front of me.

Nathan's smile falters, averting his gaze to the dead campfire. "Yeah. I've been going across the country since the beginning, trying to find her," he sighs, his expression etched with momentary pain.

I gulp, my residual distrust waning as I observe the genuine emotion on his face. The same emotion that has been killing me for the past few months.

The desperation. The diluted hope that you keep twisting in vain as you tirelessly search, and search, and search.

I can't imagine going through that the entire time, since the beginning.

"Your wife?" Morgan inquires, his voice gentle and curious as he places down the empty bean container.

I watch as Nathan smiles wistfully. "No, she passed ages ago. I'm looking for my daughter. She's a doctor down in Atlanta. I'm nearly there," he explains with a heavy sigh, his smile infused with a subtle sense of pride.

A mixture of empathy sweeps over me as I study this stranger and the raw emotion creasing his face. And the feeling worsens as Morgan speaks up, reminding me of why this stranger will most likely never reunite with her.

"We're from Georgia... I'm sorry but Atlanta is gone," Morgan says softly, gingerly breaking the news, watching the stranger nervously.

Nathan's expression morphs into shock, his eyes widening as he drops his spoon to the dirt by his boots. "W-What?" he stutters, his chest heaving with panic.

I cringe, my heart aching, remembering how I felt the first time I heard the same news. "They dropped bombs. I went there in the beginning, looking for my family too. I barely made it out," I tell Nathan briefly, Morgan confirming with a nod, making Nathan sigh, pinching the bridge of his sharp nose.

"Goddamnit." The older man curses, his already raw voice cracking.

Sympathy pangs in my chest, recognizing all too well the agony of thinking you've lost someone you've been desperately searching for.

Nathan removes his glasses, grabbing a handkerchief from his flannel pocket to wipe away tears I hadn't noticed until now. I blink in surprise, fully lowering the rifle that I've had at the ready on my knees.

"Sorry, I just- I've traveled across the damn country to find her, only for her to be-" his voice cracks again as he drops the handkerchief, seeming to compose himself for a moment.

He clears his throat, facing me, his face slightly flushed. "Really- nothing's left?" He asks desperately, his watery green eyes searching mine.

I hold his gaze for a moment, a sense of déjà vu washing over me as I look into those oddly familiar eyes. With a measured exhale, pushing past the odd feeling, I shake my head slowly, observing the subtle shift in his expression as disappointment creeps in.

Morgan chimes in, "There's a chance she might have escaped," he says, offering a hint of hope. Nathan nods in acknowledgment, a soft sniffle betraying his emotion.

His brows knit together, sincerity radiating from his expressive eyes, his mouth forming a firm line as he stares at the trees for a moment. Then he abruptly gets to his feet, prompting me to tighten my grip on his rifle. But he only walks over to his large hiker's bag, rummaging through the contents. I exchange a look with Morgan momentarily as Nathan retrieves a small bag of instant coffee and a mug.

"Coffee, gents?" he offers, his voice, thick with emotion, trying to sound bright. Both Morgan and I decline, and as Nathan returns, he proceeds to pour the instant coffee powder into a mug, mixing it with water he had been boiling over the fire. My attention is drawn to the dark blue mug in his hands, with a painting of Mount Rainier and the bold, block letters saying: 'WASHINGTON STATE'

Huh.

He's from Washington. With a daughter in Atlanta, who's a... doctor. As he sits down on the log to the right of me with a grunt, his green eyes meeting mine, already staring at him.

As our eyes meet, without his cloudy glasses blocking them, I realize the green of his irises is nearly identical to my wife's.

My wife, who's from Washington.

My wife, who was once a doctor in Atlanta.

"Nathan-" I begin, swallowing hard before continuing, my stomach wrenching at the ridiculous thought passing through my mind. "What's your daughter's name?" I ask, making the sniffing man stirring his coffee turn back to me.

"Andy," he replies, his expression crinkling with fondness before turning back to his coffee. My eyes widen as a memory flashes through my mind, back to the prison when Cass was sick.

"Wait- Andy?" I question Cass, my brows drawing together with confusion.

Cass nods, "Yeah, like Cassandra- my parents both called me Andy for the longest time I actually thought that was my real name," she explains with that same fond smile.

My chest shudders. "I-" I falter, at a loss for words, unable to comprehend the situation in front of me.

Nathan's brows knit together with a hint of confusion. "Do you have kids, son?" he asks curiously, tilting his head to the side. I find myself only blinking rapidly in response, my heart racing at the realization that I nearly shot a man who might be my future father-in-law.

"A daughter and a son," Morgan confirms for me, obviously unaware of Cass's nickname.

Nathan smiles warmly at the news, looking so similar to Cass for a moment that I nearly choke.

"Ah," Nathan muses, his gaze shifting downward as he seems momentarily lost in memories. His brow furrows with concern when he looks back up. "Is that who you're looking for, your son, Negan?" he inquires, his eyes reflecting genuine worry as they meet mine.

I shake my head, still trying to process my whirlwind of emotions. "M-My fiancée. Negan is the man who took her," I manage to say, my voice carrying a hoarse edge, guilt settling heavily in the pit of my stomach.

How do I tell this man that not only is his daughter alive- but is also engaged to me, and kidnapped?

"I'm sorry, took her?" Nathan questions, his brow furrowed, eyes wide with alarm.

Pain flinches through me as I nod in confirmation, prompting a scoff of disbelief from Nathan. I watch, my heart breaking at the uncanny similarities between him and his perfect daughter. "I knew people were bad. And now they don't have the law to answer to," he mutters, shaking his head with profound disappointment.

"I need to tell you something," I confess with a gulp, causing Nathan to pause. His eyes dart to mine, swiftly deciphering my expression. As I blink back at him, my heart racing, concern seems to soften the intensity of Nathan's gaze.

"Rick?" Morgan inquires, but I ignore him, directing my attention solely to Nathan.

"Your daughter- Andy, her full name is Cassandra?" I ask breathlessly, watching as a flicker of shock goes through the man's expression.

"I-" Nathan begins before closing his mouth, his gaze hardening as he tries to read me. Cass told me she could never lie to him.

That he said she could never 'bullshit the bullshitter'

I clear my throat, attempting to dislodge the lump tightening with each passing thought of Cass. "And she's not just 'a doctor'- she's a pediatric surgeon, isn't she?" I check, my words hanging in the air as I maintain unwavering eye contact with Nathan.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he blinks at me in shock, nodding just once. I let out a quick exhale of shock, briefly looking downward. Holy shit.

Morgan mutters a small "oh my god" as he realizes the situation.

"Cass- Andy? She's alive. She's uh-" I pause, meeting Nathan's wild expression with a gulp. "She's my fiancée." I manage to articulate, despite the difficulty.

Nathan's entire demeanor undergoes a shift. Reverting to the hardened man who pointed a gun at me. Distrustful and angry.

His expressive brow is crinkled together deeply, his mouth parted with disbelief.

"I swear," I add sincerely, before doing the code- nudging the tip of my nose with my forefinger just once, as Cass told me she used to with Nathan.

Before I can react, Nathan, driven by a surge of unexpected intensity, launches himself forward. The sudden force of his tackle throws me off the log I was sitting on, and the unyielding forest floor greets my back with a painful blow. Nathan, just slightly taller than me, seizes the opportunity and effortlessly pins me down.

Blinking through the shock of being tackled to the ground, I wince, my breath catching painfully in my lungs.

"Who taught you that?!?" Nathan bellows, his green eyes ablaze with rage, his voice echoing through the trees, causing a few birds to fly away with indignant squawks.

I manage to gasp out a response through the burning pain of nearly having the wind knocked out of me. "Cass," I explain hoarsely, meeting Nathan's furious gaze with a cringe.

Morgan is somewhere beside us, and past my angry father-in-law's shoulder, I spot him holding his stick, seemingly prepared to intervene. "Morgan- it's fine," I choke out, hoping he doesn't knock Cass's father 'round the head.

With a hesitant step back, Morgan's wide-eyed gaze remains fixed on us, silently assessing the situation.

"Andy's already engaged," Nathan growls, making me fight the incredibly strong urge to roll my eyes at the memory of her previous fiance.

"That coward is long dead," I manage to grit through clenched teeth as Nathan forcefully pins me to the ground, his grip disturbingly powerful. While I could undoubtedly fight back and free myself, the prospect of kneeing my father-in-law in the groin and forcefully pushing him away isn't exactly the impression I want to leave.

And I already stole his gun and held him at gunpoint.

Nathan's expression flickers, his chest heaving as he studies my expression. "Phillip?" he asks, his voice light with confusion, and I nod, jaw clenched tight.

"The asshole who laid his hands on her, yeah. Cass killed him," I explain, cringing at the discomfort of the sharp rock beneath me, digging into my spine.

Nathan leans back in surprise, his brows raised, his grip loosening slightly. "S-She killed him?" he stammers, and I nod, pride surging through my chest.

"She fought him back. And that time, she won," I explain breathlessly, my breathing ragged, a slight smile of satisfaction pulling at my lips at the memory.

Watching her use my gun to shoot that pathetic coward, to end the power he had over her, was incredible. I had never been more proud of her.

Nathan's grip on me falters as he squints his eyes down at me. His hardened gaze searches my expression, clearly deep in thought.

My breathing ragged, I just look back up at him, waiting for what he'll do next.

"Ever been arrested?" Nathan abruptly asks, making me stop, blinking up at his unflinching green eyes in surprise.

"What?" I question, taken aback by the random question, my heart pounding.

"Just answer the question, son." Nathan orders impatiently, making me nod, my eyes wide at the sudden shift in conversation.

"I was a sheriff's deputy, so no. Never arrested," I answer honestly, watching as Nathan narrows his eyes, scrutinizing my expression.

"You go to college?" he continues, and I have to fight back a smile as I realize he's interviewing me.

"Georgia University. '96." I confirm, making Nathan let out a slow breath, nodding slightly as if processing the information

"Have you ever hit a woman?" Nathan asks next, his voice lowered slightly, a hint of concern underlying his intense gaze as he searches my expression for a response.

I maintain eye contact, refusing to flinch under the weight of his question. "Never," I respond resolutely, my voice carrying a sense of solidity to reassure him that I am nothing like Phillip.

Nathan continues to study my face, his gaze unwavering, as if searching for some hidden truth. "You love her?" he asks, his voice wavering slightly, revealing a mix of apprehension and genuine concern.

A surge of emotion tightens my chest, and I fight to contain the vulnerability threatening to surface. "Very much," I admit sincerely. I feel the tension in my throat as I manage to speak, suppressing the tears that linger just behind my eyes.

Nathan hums thoughtfully as he looks at me for a moment. His eyes have softened, his grip on me nearly nonexistent. He's thinking deeply, his green eyes roaming my expression.

"Have you two had premarital relations?" Nathan asks, making my stomach plummet, my eyes widen, and my cheeks immediately flame.

Fuck.

"I-" I stutter, trying to figure out what to say, my heart pounding, feeling the sweat gather on my forehead.

'Can't bullshit the bullshitter'

Goddammit.

Then, just like that, Nathan's expression cracks into a broad grin as he laughs deeply. "I'm messing with you, son. Come on," he laughs, clambering off me, getting to his feet, and holding out his hand to help me up.

I let out a heavy sigh of relief, the tension dissipating from my shoulders as I chuckle slightly to myself, grabbing his offering hand. Nathan pulls me to my feet and swiftly into a warm bear hug, catching me off guard. My eyes widen in surprise, meeting the equally astonished gaze of Morgan, watching the unexpected hug.

With a subtle gulp, I reciprocate the hug, finding a distant yet reassuring comfort in the connection, knowing that the man I'm hugging is Cass's father.

"Sorry about the tackle, I played college football," Nathan apologizes goodnaturedly as he pulls away, making me chuckle, shaking my head.

"No need. I have a daughter. I get it," I assure him with sincerity, evoking a genuine smile from Nathan. The mere thought of Judith dating sends a shiver down my spine, I don't even want to think about that.

Nathan absorbs my words, then there's a momentary pause, and his gaze intensifies on me.

"Wait..." he mutters, his brow furrowing in thought. "Is that daughter of yours... my granddaughter?" Nathan asks with a soft and deliberate tone, his eyes probing mine.

The warm memory of Cass and Judith in the nursery, giggling at their reflection, flashes behind my eyes. A small, nostalgic smile forms on my lips as I nod slowly.

"Yes. Not by blood, but yes," I answer succinctly, opting to steer clear of the complicated history. Nathan acknowledges my response with a nod, a warm smile crinkling his eyes, revealing his acceptance.

Happiness flickers through me. I hadn't thought Judith would ever have a grandparent.

Nathan lets out a short laugh, shaking his head in amusement. "Andy used to tell me she was never having kids, so any grandbaby is a miracle," he grins, his statement taking me aback.

"Cass said that?" I ask, tilting my head to the side, my mind reeling. "She loves kids," I mutter, furrowing my brows with confusion. To be fair, we never really had a conversation about having kids. I always assumed Cass wanted them; she loves Judith and Carl as if they were hers.

And it's not like we're planning on having any of our own.

Nathan abruptly claps my shoulder, making me blink at him in surprise. "That's exactly what I said," he tells me, his voice laced with pride, a smile playing on his lips, prompting a chuckle from me

"So, where are you staying? I'd love to see..." he begins, but his expression falters as the reality of our previous conversation hits him, making him trail off.

As his words fail him, a heavy silence falls over us, my stomach wrenching. The air seems to thicken with unspoken words, every second agonizing as my father-in-law registers what I had told him before.

I exchange a glance with Morgan, the pain in his eyes mirroring mine.

Nathan shifts in my periphery, making me slowly turn to him, watching his restlessness warily. He runs his hands over his face with a heavy exhale before placing them on his hips.

Turning to me, his eyes gleam with parental determination. "Tell me about this 'Negan'. Now," Nathan orders bluntly, breathing heavily through his nose.

Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I nod once. Then I do as he asks, telling him everything.

___

___

- Cass's POV -

Louise's glare is boring into Negan, with an ice-cold intensity that sends shivers down my spine, while he shamelessly chats with Carl. Watching the situation, my heart slams against my ribcage, terrified of what Louise might do.

"You're gonna want ta look at their titties," Negan murmurs to Carl, his words turning my stomach as I watch my sister-in-law carefully. Carl stands frozen to the left of me, his gaze fixed on Negan with a blank expression.

"It's cool, I won't mind, they won't mind, knock yourself out," Negan drawls, making me spare him a glance, trying to conceal my disgust at his smug grin. How can he talk to a teenager like that?

Carl, visibly uncomfortable, looks down, his face flushing bright red. Protective anger surges through me, even more powerful than before. Negan can hurt and humiliate me, but he can not do that to my kid. Clenching my fists at my sides, I fight the overwhelming urge to reach out and comfort Carl before pummeling Negan's irritating grin.

"Can I talk to you for a minute, dear wife?" Negan snaps, an annoyed attitude lacing his voice, making my heart lurch. Panic momentarily grips me, causing me to snap my head in his direction, relief washing over me as I realize that Negan is talking to Sherry.

Not me or Louise.

My gaze drifts back to Louise, her once hardened glare now softened as she focuses on Carl, the hint of tears glistening in her eyes. Sherry rises from the couch adjacent to Louise, walking to the window with Negan, leaving Louise behind.

Wasting no time, I hastily rush over to Louise's side, meeting her just as she stands up from the couch, c early determined. I grab her arm, pulling her to me quickly, making her widened eyes fly to mine. "He can't know," I whisper urgently, my grip on her upper arm firm.

Louise stares at me for a second, blinking past her surprise, her brows knitted tightly together with emotion. "Carl can't know about the baby and Negan can't know how much Carl means to us," I clarify, my chest heaving desperately, hoping she understands. Despite our emotions, we can't let Negan know how much we mean to Rick.

He'll kill us.

Or worse.

Louise's bottom lip quivers, a fleeting vulnerability that she quickly regains control over by closing her eyes momentarily. Glancing past her shoulder, I catch sight of Negan engrossed in conversation with Sherry, and I can't help but feel a sense of relief. Thank God he's preoccupied with her.

With my focus on the conversation behind Louise, my stomach abruptly drops as Carl's voice breaks the silence from behind me. "Cass, why'd you just-" but he cuts himself off, his eye widening as I turn around to face him, revealing his aunt.

Carl stares at Louise for a moment, his mouth parting, and his brows crinkling. "Carl, this is Louise," I say after clearing my throat, attempting to keep my voice steady and remind the two of the importance of hiding the fact that we're family.

Carl clears his throat and nods, looking down momentarily. Louise tilts her head to the side, her expression melting with emotion as she looks at him. "You're... older than I expected," Louise says quietly, her voice rasping, making my heart ache.

The last time she saw him, he was younger than the first time I met him. Even back then, he seemed like a baby.

"That tends to happen," Carl murmurs, his mouth pulling into a small smile as he glances up, his eye glinting with mischief.

Louise chuckles, shaking her head, a fond smile breaking across her face. "You little shit," she mutters exasperatedly under her breath, her words laced with affection. Carl responds with a quiet laugh, their playful banter creating a welcome reprieve that eases the tension in my chest.

"How's your dad?" Louise asks, her brows knitted together with concern as she folds her arms tightly across her chest.

Carl glances at me, finding reassurance in my eyes momentarily before turning his attention back to his aunt. "Uh, not great. He's kind of losing it looking for..." he hesitates, cautiously glancing at the nearby wives. "My stepmom," Carl mutters, and I instinctively look away, feeling the familiar pang of pain resurfacing in my chest. No matter how many times that gets said to me, it still hurts the same.

Thinking about the torture Rick must have been going through not knowing where I was. At least with Daryl coming back, he knows I'm alive now.

When I glance back, I find Louise's gaze softened, a hint of pity behind her eyes. She turns to Carl, a playful smile tugging at her mouth. "He loves her, huh?" Louise asks, her eyes crinkling mischievously.

"Oh god, you should've seen them together. They tried to hide it but they were so obvious," Carl remarks smugly, prompting a wide grin from Louise. Her eyes lock onto mine with a playful raise of her eyebrows. I feel my cheeks flush with warmth, and I shake my head, resisting a grin at their teasing.

"Flirtin' with the ladies already, Carl? You dog!" Negan interjects, suddenly appearing beside us and causing me to flinch. Instinctively, I move closer to Carl, watching as Sherry slinks by to sit down on the couch to the right of us.

Carl immediately tenses up with Negan's presence, his earlier relaxed expression quickly disappearing. He shakes his head in response to Negan's words, staring at the ground, clearly even more uncomfortable than before.

"No? Come on!" Negan eggs him on, poking Carl's shoulder. Fierce rage whips through me, and I'm about to say something when Lousie beats me to it, her expression carefully hiding her disgust.

"He wasn't flirting, he's a kid. We're too old for him and I bet we're not his type," Louise retorts, her voice a harsh edge, her eyes staring daggers at Negan, who doesn't seem to notice.

Negan's eyebrows just raise as he pointedly looks between us as we stare back at him blankly. "Darlin', you two are everybody's type," he declares, grinning like a pig, making me sigh, having to look away to stop myself from slapping him.

"Well, this has been fun, ladies. Come on Carl, let's take you home and tell your old man just how bad you were today," Negan grins, slinging his arm around Carl's shoulders. I can't help but notice how much he looks like a wolf, sneering over my beloved lamb.

Carl's wide eyes dart between us, and a surge of panic rises in my chest, wanting desperately to help him. Helplessness washes over me, knowing there's nothing I can do.

"Get home safe," I manage to choke out, my voice quivering slightly, my heart sinking into the depths of my stomach. Carl's expression crumples, but he quickly conceals it beneath his father's hat.

"Nice to meet you, kiddo," Louise murmurs softly, her gaze tracking Negan as he leads Carl away from the wives' quarters. Carl steals a backward glance as they exit.

In a swift moment, I silently mouth 'love you' to him before he vanishes around the corner.

The instant they disappear from view, Louise crumples onto the couch, burying her face in her hands with a heavy sigh. The weight of pretending not to love my kid in Negan's presence lifts off my shoulders, prompting me to let out an involuntary exhale.

Relief washes over me, but it's quickly overshadowed by severe concern for Carl and everyone back home. I worry about what Negan might do. Especially when he figures out Daryl's gone missing.

"What the hell happened to his eye? You never mentioned that!" Louise blurts out, causing me to shoot her a quick, wide-eyed look as I hastily join her on the couch.

"Louise! Keep it down, you know better," I urge her, stealing a nervous glance at the nearby wives who luckily, aren't bothered to be listening in. "And I didn't know until I saw him here. A kid back home shot him while I was here," I explain briefly, watching Louise exhale deeply, her expression reflecting deep sadness.

"God, he's been through shit, hasn't he? He looks way older than he should be," Louise murmurs, and I nod solemnly, my stomach churning at the memories of everything he's endured at such a young age.

"Yeah, he has. Far too much for one kid," I reveal, running my hand through my hair, feeling a knot tighten in my gut.

Louise and I how he ended up here- hitching a ride from Alexandria with an assault rifle. Louise is incredulous upon learning that he was responsible for the shooting earlier, and I can't blame her. If someone had told me that about the sweet little kid I first met at the farm, I wouldn't have believed it either.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. While you were gone, I met up with Marty, the cook. He's on board with the plan. He'll help us get access to the water supply," Louise lets me know, her voice barely rising above a whisper, prompting a frown from me.

"He's not going to do it?" I ask, my brows knitted together with annoyance. Damnit. That wasn't the plan.

Louise sighs, her disappointment palpable as she presses her lips together. "No. He's willing to help us, but he won't do it himself – said it's too risky," she explains gingerly, causing me to scoff and shake my head.

"Come on, Cass," Louise reasons, her quiet voice cutting through the tension in the dimly lit room, "we're talking about mass poisoning. It's fair that he wouldn't want to be the one carrying it out." Her words, calm and rational, grate on me slightly, not because she's wrong, but because I know she's right. I reluctantly nod, my mind racing as I cover my mouth with my hand, lost in contemplation.

"I know. Guess I'll do it then. That way the measurements won't get messed up," I mutter with a heavy sigh. Louise nods in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the unpleasant task that lay ahead.

"Spencer and I will cover for you," she assures me kindly, her commitment unwavering.

"Cover what?" Georgia's abrupt question catches us off guard as she suddenly appears in front of us, her presence causing my stomach to drop.

"Jesus G! You're like a damn ghost!" Louise curses, her hand to her chest, her playfulness betraying the seriousness of our conversation. I can't help but grin at her jumpiness, a momentary distraction from the seriousness of our plans.

Georgia grins, plopping on the space between us. "Sorry," she smiles, not seeming too apologetic as she looks at us expectantly.

"I don't think you want to know what we were talking about" I murmur, moving over to give her more room. Georgia's expression falls as she realizes, her mouth forming a flat line.

"Oh. It's that," she mumbles, looking down at her lap, a mixture of understanding and concern in her eyes.

"I don't know why you hate it so much. We're trying to get out of here. We can't do that with so many saviors around. If we get rid of them- decrease the population- we stand a chance." Louise tells Georgia, her low voice filled with determination, while her listener looks down at her clasped hands.

"I-I know. It's just scary. What you're doing. If Negan finds out-" Georgia begins, her voice trembling with severe worry, making me reach out to rest my hand on top of hers to offer some comfort.

Georgia looks at me, her light blue eyes meeting mine. "He won't find out. I know and have access to the right drugs that will make it look like a disease, not a positioning. Then I'll assess them and explain to Negan that the flu that was just goin' around mutated. It's that simple." I explain, making Georgia stare at me, her chest heaving.

"You're crazy," she breathes, her eyes wide.

I look at her for a moment, then shrug, a slight smirk curving at my mouth. "If it means getting out of here, getting back to my family? Then yeah, I guess I am."

___

- Rick's POV -

Nathan, Morgan, and I, having explained the situation, swiftly take down Nathan's camp and set out together toward the college campus.

Upon learning about the ordeal his daughter is facing, Nathan promptly declared that he's coming with us, a decision met with no objections on my end.

After a few hours of walking through the woods, we reached the frustratingly deserted college campus. Aside from an unusually high number of white rats scurrying around- probably escaped from the research labs- the rest of the campus is abandoned.

We expended a couple of incredibly annoying hours thoroughly searching the place, making sure to note it as a future scavenging place for the rest of the group. Disheartened, we head back home, our collective frustration heightened.

The other two locations, the industrial plant and the farm, are situated on the opposite side of Alexandria. It makes sense to just go home, especially at this time of day. It'll give Nathan the chance to meet our family. I had hoped Cass would be there. But then again, I've been hoping the same thing for months.

It's mid-afternoon when we arrive home, turning down the main road which runs straight up to the gate. My steps falter to a stop at the sight of three of Negan's trucks parked out front of the wall, with Saviors standing guard, assault rifles strapped to their chests.

Shit.

Holding my hand out, I usher the two men back from the road for a moment, my heart racing. "Nathan- those are the men that work for Negan, but you cannot let them find out who Cass is okay? That is the only advantage she has there." I quickly debrief my father-in-law, emphasizing my urgency with the gesture of my outstretched hand.

"If he's here, do anything Negan wants you to," I add, earnestly locking eyes with him to convey the gravity of the situation. His expression registers a hint of shock, but I press on, "It's going to kill you, it kills me, but you have to. For her."

Nathan's face transforms into determination as he nods, shooting a disdainful look at the men casually strolling near the gate. "Understood," he mutters, his gaze fixed on the distant silhouette of Alexandria.

"Don't show 'em how strong you are," Morgan adds wisely, his words echoing my sentiments. I nod in agreement, securing my rifle over my shoulder.

"Got it," Nathan replies, his affirmation punctuated with a determined nod. He falls into step behind me and Morgan as we proceed down the street, bracing ourselves for the challenges that lie ahead.

As we approach, we cautiously raise our arms in a gesture of surrender, catching the attention of the nearby Saviors. I take charge, announcing our presence, and they wave us forward, recognizing me.

The guard at the gate, with half his face deeply scarred from a burn, leers at me. "Negan's at your house. He brought back your kid," he declares, pulling the gate open.

I come to a sudden stop, squinting through the bright sunlight, dread creeping up my spine. "What d'you mean, 'brought back'?" I demand lowly, my eyes widening, heart pounding. The Savior just smirks brazenly in response, revealing his decaying teeth as he sizes up Morgan and Nathan, ignoring my question.

My chest heaving, I push past the gate, sprinting down our deserted street, the urgency of finding my children gripping my senses. Skidding to a stop, my lungs burning, I find myself face to face with Negan, who casually strolls down the steps of my porch, his presence casting a shadow over the once-happy surroundings.

"Rick!" Negan enthuses, his eyebrows raised in mock surprise before he holds a hand out to the nearby Saviors aiming their weapons at me, a sinister grin pulling at his mouth.

"Well, well, well, Ricky, we've got ourselves a little reunion!" he enthuses, tilting his head to the side with a mocking tone. Behind him, seated on a creaking rocking chair, is Carl, Judith on his lap. Relief washes over me momentarily at the sight of their safety, but it's quickly replaced by a chill down my spine as Carl subtly mouths 'Sorry' in my direction.

... What?

Negan continues his slow descent down the stairs, savoring the tension in the air. His irritating grin remains plastered on his face, seemingly impervious to the gravity of the situation.

"Rick, your son has been a bad, bad kid," Negan tsks, relishing every syllable. His deliberate pace sends frustration flooding through me, my mind racing with thoughts of revenge, each scenario more brutal than the last, fueled by the knowledge that he even touches Cass and Louise.

This is the first time I've seen him. Since finding out.

Trapped in a silent, charged stare-down, I grapple with the primal urge to launch a full-fledged assault on the piece of shit in front of me. My fists clench involuntarily, and the battle against the animalistic instincts intensifies, tempting me to rip his throat out with my teeth, the same savage retribution I unleashed upon the previous monster who dared hurt my family.

Or, I could reach for my machete, hanging snugly from my belt, and slam it repeatedly onto his head, giving him a taste of his own medicine.

"What did he do?" I manage to ask evenly, shooting a stern look at my son, who cringes under my gaze, avoiding eye contact.

Negan, with an air of perverse satisfaction, swaggering over and swinging his baseball bat lazily, fills me in. "He thought it was a good idea to hop on our supply truck this morning, ride all the way back to the Sanctuary, and try to shoot up the place," Negan informs me casually, shocking me to the core. My jaw drops in disbelief as I look at Carl, who remains focused on his sister in his lap, his cheeks red.

"Carl-" I begin, my voice trembling with rage, only to be abruptly cut off by Negan's interruption.

"Don't worry. I think he realized the error of his ways. And I also think you owe me a 'thank you', because despite him machine-gunning my men, I brought him home, safe and sound." Negan smiles, a disturbing juxtaposition of paternal care and sadistic satisfaction on his face. "Oh, and, I fed him spaghetti," he adds, grinning with irreverent amusement.

I let out a slow exhale, attempting to suppress the vivid anger sparked by Carl's reckless behavior. It's a struggle, torn between fury at his actions and the frustration that he managed to reach the Sanctuary before I did.

"I don't remember this guy," Negan muses, nodding towards Nathan, who I had honestly forgotten about for a moment. I spare a quick glance over my shoulder to find Nathan staring at Negan with a blank expression.

"I'm Negan, and you are?" Negan inquires, adopting a tone of mocking politeness, as if coaxing a child to exhibit good manners. Nathan's eyes briefly flicker to mine before locking onto Negan.

"Nathaniel," he answers tersely, his eyes narrowing for a fleeting moment.

"Ah, Nathaniel. Hand your gun over to my friend over there, will you, Nathaniel?" Negan requests, a deceptive smile playing on his lips.

Nathan frowns, suspicion etched on his face. "Why would I-"

"Just do it," Morgan says quietly, his voice cutting through the tension, prompting Nathan to press his lips into a firm line. Reluctantly, he gingerly hands over his wooden hunting rifle to the Savior positioned to our right.

"Ah, there you go. Nice to meet you, Nathaniel," Negan says with a wink, clapping Nathan on the shoulder. Nathan takes it, but his eyes reveal a momentary flash of the same anger that I feel to my very core.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Negan says, casually strolling back toward me, his eyes keenly searching my expression. The air thickens with tension as his cold grin twists into a manifestation of genuine anger. "Where the fuck is Daryl?" he demands roughly, his eyes darkening with rage.

My stomach plummets, but I maintain an expression of composure. I meet his gaze, squinting against the harsh sunlight. "What are you talking about?" I counter, pretending like I have no idea that I reunited with him last night. That my brilliant wife outsmarted Negan's entire compound to get him out.

Negan's heavy sigh echoes through the charged air, tilting his head up at the sky. "Are we really going to do this? We both know he got out and came running back home to Daddy," he mocks, the bitterness in his words oozing like venom. My jaw clenches involuntarily as I battle to keep the fiery rage from surfacing.

"I have no idea where he is," I assert honestly, as I genuinely have no clue if he's still here, or got out in time before the Saviors arrived. The uncertainty where he is gnawing at me, but I refuse to give Negan the satisfaction of knowing that.

Negan, undeterred, takes deliberate steps closer, his imposing figure casting a dark shadow over me. His intense gaze locks onto mine, and I meet it with a steely resolve, despite the unnerving proximity. The grip on his infamous baseball bat tightens, its presence a constant reminder of the brutality that accompanies his authority.

Staring defiantly into his eyes, I push through the burning rage, acutely aware that Cass's father is watching. Seeing me indulge this power-drunk asshole in order to protect his daughter.

"You lost him and he's not here. You got what you wanted. Just. Go," I seethe, my words laced with a bitter resolve as I glare into Negan's cold hazel irises that fuel my body with scorching hatred.

Negan contorts his expression into a mocking fear, raising his eyebrows and pulling down his mouth in an exaggerated display. "Oh! There's the Rick in the tape, the one I would have not fucked with," Negan drawls, his grin broadening with what seems to be twisted satisfaction.

Negan just gazes at me, that unsettling smile lingering on his face despite my steely silence.

Then he leans in closer, making bile rise in my throat. "I'm gonna be back. And if you don't have an answer for me? Regarding our mutual friend? I'll kill you or that badass kid of yours," Negan breathes, his calm voice carrying a subtle threat.

I just nod once, my jaw clenched, rage burning wildly through my body. The acrid taste of frustration lingers as Negan's final command echoes in the air.

"Oh, and your kitchen is a total mess, by the way," Negan adds gleefully, before turning away. "Alright, boys! Let's roll out!" Negan's shout reverberates, his menacing grin lingering as he turns away, his Saviors obediently in tow.

As the dust settles, and Negan's trucks finally pull away, a momentary sense of relief washes over me. I watch as Gabriel shuts the gate behind them, knowing that they're finally gone.

Then I immediately whirl on Carl, my eyes wild, the fire of anger still flickering in my gaze. "What the hell were you thinking?" I demand, my chest heaving with the weight of suppressed emotions as I storm up the stairs of the porch.

Carl shrinks back slightly, guilt etched across his face. "Y-You were gone, and I just wanted to end this all before anyone else got hurt. I hadn't expected..." he trails off, shaking his head.

I let out a heavy exhale, running my hand over my face in a futile attempt to ease the tension clawing at my nerves. For fuck's sake. Knowing that Carl left because of me, the possibility that he could've gotten himself killed-

"-I talked to them," Carl's apprehensive voice speaks up suddenly, the solemnity in his voice pausing my movements. I slowly lower my hand, turning to face him, my hands resting on my belt. Carl's looking up at me, readjusting Judith on his lap, a small smile on his face.

"'Them'?" I repeat quietly, my heart pounding, and Carl nods in response.

"Cass and Aunt Louise," he confirms, and I let out a shuddering breath, relief and anxiety waging a silent battle within me. "They seem okay. They're good," Carl reassures me, his words immediately soothing the rampaging emotions swirling in my chest.

The weight of it all forces me to sit down on the empty rocking chair, my heart racing with a strange mix of worry and gratitude. I lower my head into my hands, my elbows on my knees.

He saw them. They're okay.

"But you can't go there, Dad," Carl says, his tone laced with a mix of concern and insistence, prompting me to look up from the swirling chaos in my mind. "You should listen to Cass," he tells me earnestly, his gaze unwavering as it locks onto mine. I sigh, recognizing the sincerity in his words, and meet my son's eyes, admiring at the unexpected wisdom that seems to have taken root in him.

"Where is it?" I ask, determined to find out where he's keeping them, and Carl hesitates for a moment before responding.

"Some big factory," he answers, and I nod, letting out a low sigh of annoyance. The industrial complex. Sounds about right for Negan.

"Dad, seriously. We can't win against them," Carl urges me, only making me clench my jaw with irritation. I've had just about enough of people trying to stop me from going after Cass.

"There's like two hundred of them. We just don't stand a chance. You haven't seen it Dad, They'd destroy us," Carl explains, the weight of his words sinking in. I release a measured exhale, diverting my gaze to Judith's face as she blinks innocently in the warm beam of afternoon sunlight.

Judith smiles, patting her little chubby legs with her small hands, seeming like she's in a good mood for the first time in a while. Since Cass went missing.

"H-How'd they look?" I ask gingerly, my eyes still fixed on my daughter's beautiful little face, a mix of worry and curiosity knitting my brows. I can't help the subtle jealousy curling my spine knowing that Carl got to see them. I would do anything to be able to.

There's a pause, the tension thickening before Carl responds. "Dad, they're fine. If anything, Cass was mostly just mad at me for going," he sighs, frustration evident in his voice, making a warm fondness spread through my chest at the thought.

Cass being a protective mama bear. No surprise there.

"...Dad, who's that?" Carl asks, breaking the moment as he looks over at the stairs of the porch, seeming concerned. I follow Carl's gaze, finally fully looking up, and see Nathan on the stairs, approaching, curiosity etched across his features.

"You're not going to believe me," I mutter, almost laughing at the situation while Carl looks at me in utter confusion.

"Carl, meet Nathan, Cass's father."

___

- Face claim -

*Nathan*

(Steve Carrell - Nathaniel D. Adams)

___

A/N: Thank you all for 85K reads!! I'm in disbelief!!!!