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Rick lingered just beyond living room's doorway, one hand resting on the frame, unwilling to break the fragile peace inside.
Negan was sprawled on the floor with his back against the cot, long legs stretched out, Judith perched happily in the cradle of his crossed ankles. Negan's voice, low and rough around the edges, filled the space with a song Rick hadn't heard in years.
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word… Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"
He hammed it up, dropping into an exaggerated baritone for the next lines and waggling his eyebrows when Judith squealed and clapped her hands. She reached for his face, smacked his cheek with the fearless affection only a little kid can have. Negan let her. He caught her tiny hand and pressed a loud, theatrical kiss to her palm that made her dissolve into giggles.
Rick smiled, watching the way Negan softened for Judith, the way his eyes lit up when she babbled nonsense back at him like they were having a real conversation.
Then his chest tightened so violently he had to steady himself. The memory of him standing with a knife pressed to Negan’s throat still burning through his mind.
He could still feel the tremor in his own arm, the white-hot rage screaming at him to end it, to finish what he'd started the night Glenn and Abraham died. At moments then mercy felt like betrayal.
The truth arrived like a blow: he was glad Negan was alive.
The realization hit him like a punch to the sternum, stealing his breath. Rick was glad he'd stayed his hand.
The thought was scary.
Because what did it say about Rick that he could look at the person who'd murdered his friends in cold blood, who'd terrorized his family and feel relief that he was still here? Still breathing. Still capable of cradling Judith like she was the most precious thing in his broken world.
Rick's fingers curled against the wall, nails scraping concrete. His stomach churned with the memory of how close he'd come to taking this away.
And the emptiness, that could've taken Negan's place felt even more terrifying.
He thought of the years he'd spent hating, planning, dreaming of the moment Negan would pay. He'd built an entire world around that hatred, let it fuel him through every loss, every fight. And now… now he couldn't imagine a future without this infuriating, charismatic, impossible man in it.
Some silly toddler trick, Judith did, made Negan laugh. The sound wrapped around Rick's heart like barbed wire and velvet all at once. Funny. Beautiful. Broken in ways that mirrored Rick's own fractures.
Judith saw Rick first, reaching her small hands toward him with that impatient little grab she'd perfected months ago.
"What's that, Judy?" Negan murmured, still soft from the song. He turned, finally seeing Rick half-hidden in the doorway. "Well, damn. There's your dada, huh?"
He lifted her up carefully, cradling her against his chest the way someone who'd never quite trusted his own hands finally learned how. Judith squealed, kicking her feet, and Negan grinned. His smile was wide, the kind of grin that used to make Rick want to put a bullet between his teeth.
Now it just made the ache worse.
Negan walked toward him slow and deliberate, like he was approaching something skittish. "Not very nice sneaking up like that, Grimes," he teased gently, the same tone he'd used on Judith a minute ago.
Rick didn't answer right away. His mouth was dry, his pulse loud in his ears. He stared at Negan, at the way Judith's tiny fist had curled into the collar of his t-shirt again and at the easy way he held her like she weighed nothing and everything at the same time.
He'd almost ended this.
“Checking on my girl,” Rick managed at last, eyes dropping to Judith's sleepy flutter of lashes against Negan's shoulder. "Or do you think you're the only one allowed to play babysitter?"
Negan huffed a quiet laugh, but his gaze stayed sharp, searching. "Just didn't expect the great Rick Grimes to be the lurking-in-doorways type. You look like you're about to propose or pass out, maybe both."
Rick managed a smile, but the thought kept circling, vicious and relentless. He'd stood over Negan with a knife, with hate, that left a metal taste on his mouth, and he'd almost-
"Rick?" Negan's voice dropped lower, uncertain now. He stopped a couple feet away, close enough that Rick could smell the faint soap on his skin, the warmth of Judith’s baby shampoo. "You good?"
Something inside Rick gave way. Just a quiet snap, like a rope finally fraying through after years of strain.
He reached out before he could think better of it. His hand closed around Judith's small back, steadying her, but his fingers brushed Negan's forearm in the process. Warm. Solid. Alive.
Rick let the feeling linger.
"Yeah..." he rasped, voice rougher than he meant it to be. "I'm alright."
Negan didn't move. He didn't say a word either. He just watched, like he could see every crack Rick was trying to hide.
After a long beat, Negan tilted his head, a small, crooked smile tugging at his mouth. "You sure about that, Rick? ’Cause right now you look like a man who just saw God and the devil having a beer together."
Rick huffed a short, shaky laugh, more exhale than sound. "Something like that."
Judith patted Negan's cheek, then reached again for Rick, babbling something that sounded suspiciously like "Da-da-da".
Negan shifted her weight, offering her over without hesitation. Their hands brushed again as Rick took her, longer this time. Intentional.
"You were singing to her," Rick said. It came out quieter than he meant.
Negan lifted one shoulder. "She likes the sound of my voice."
"She likes you," Rick corrected, and the words tasted like confession.
"Yeah, well," Negan smiled at Rick softly, then looked away, down at Judith. "Guess, I'm luckier than I deserve."
Rick shifted Judith higher on his shoulder, felt her cheek settle against his neck, warm and trusting. Then he looked at Negan again. Really looked. At the faint scar along his neck, at the way his hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to reach out but didn't dare, at the quiet, unguarded thing in his expression that Rick had never seen before the war ended.
Rick swallowed. The silence stretched, thick with everything their past held. The war and rage and grief. The nights Rick had lain awake wondering if mercy had been a mistake.
It hadn't.
He was more than sure now.
Rick took a breath that hurt.
"I almost didn't let you have this," Rick said quietly. The words came out raw, stripped of everything but truth. "Almost took it away from her and… from all of us."
Negan didn't pretend not to understand. He just nodded once, slowly.
"You didn't."
"I wanted to."
"I know."
Another beat. Then Negan stepped closer.
"But you didn't," Negan repeated, softer this time. "And here we are."
Here they were.
Rick's free hand twitched at his side. He didn't know exactly what he wanted to do with it. Negan reached out first. He brushed a wave of hair off Judith's forehead, smiling at the thought of Rick having the same stray curl always sticking out. Then he let his fingers drift higher, palm settling gently against Rick's jaw, thumb tracing the edge of exhaustion and unshed tears.
Rick leaned into the touch.
"She’s gonna be hell on wheels," Negan murmured. "Takes after her old man."
Rick huffed a small laugh. “Which one?"
Negan’s eyes flickered with surprise, then filled with something achingly tender.
"Both of us, I reckon."
Judith sighed in her sleep, small and content.
Rick felt something loosen in his chest, like if a barbed knot that had been there so long he'd forgotten what it felt like without it, finally got untied. He closed his eyes against the sudden sting. When he opened them, Negan was still there, still breathing, still looking at him like he mattered.
'I'm glad you're here," Rick said, voice cracking open. "God, Negan… I’m so fucking glad you're still here."
Negan's breath caught. His forehead dropped gently to Rick's, hand still cradling his face.
"Me too," he whispered. "More than you know."
They stood there, suspended, while the house held them in quiet, steady silence.
After a moment Rick shifted Judith more securely.
"She's half-asleep already," Negan whispered. "Little dictator's gonna crash hard."
"Bedtime," Rick smiled softly, voice unsteady but sure.
Negan nodded, thumb brushing Rick’s cheek one last time before falling away.
Rick turned toward the stairs, Judith warm and sleepy in his arms. Negan followed, his footsteps quiet. His steady presence wasn't a shadow behind Rick anymore, but something closer, something beside him. For the first time in years the silence didn’t feel like a threat, and the future didn’t feel doomed. It felt like a promise.