A/N: This is a collab between thematsaidwelcome and I. It details Rick's return to ASZ after six years of everyone thinking he was dead. Please accept this prologue. There's more to come.

The cool water slid down Rick's throat. It hurt a little, as he swallowed too much at once; the reprieve felt almost foreign. He could not remember the last time he had been given something to drink. His captors liked to remind him that being an ingrate in their community did not go unpunished. It was not that Rick was ungrateful for the help, because he truly was. They had saved his life when he was on the brink of death. They had lifted him to safety, and, as they so bluntly put it, wasted valuable resources on him; resources that could have gone to someone else. Someone who would have appreciated the help. Someone who would have wanted to stay and work off the debt that they owed. But Rick Grimes did not want to stay. He wanted to go home to Michonne and Judith; he needed to go home to his family. He was not an ingrate, but rather, a man who wanted to be with his wife and daughter.

That was almost six years ago. Six heartbreaking, lonely years. It crushed his heart just to acknowledge how long it had been. Not a single day passed where he did not miss his girls. Not a single day passed where he had not longed for them; where he wished he had done things differently. Where he wished he would have spent more time with them, and less time at the bridge. Where he hoped and prayed that they were safe. They had to be. He knew Michonne would do everything in her power to make sure they were.

Judith. His precious child whom he swore to always protect. Whom he had hoped to be there with, every step of the way. His daughter who did not deserve this world she was thrust into. He missed her little smile. He missed the way that she felt in his embrace; how she looked at him with such adoration that it caused his heart to swell with pride, and hurt at the same time because all he ever wanted to do was live for her.

Michonne. His heart ached for her, knowing that she most likely thought he had died. She had lost so much, too much. It saddened him deeply that he was putting her through the grief of losing yet another person she loved. He missed the way she felt wrapped in his arms. How her kisses breathed new life into him again and yet again. How she was smart and strong and wanted the best for their little family.

Thoughts of them are what kept Rick going on those harsh days and those long and lonely nights. When he had first arrived, he was unconscious. He spent months in a coma, he was told. They had kept him alive and cared for him. When he had woken, he was disoriented and remembered nothing of what led to him being there.

As time passed, he grew strong, regained his memories, and healed; he recalled seeing all of the people he had cared for. The ones who were long gone, and the ones who were still living. And then that explosion. The destruction of the bridge, and the sacrifice of his life, to save everyone else. When he was feeling particularly low, he would curse himself for giving so much. But then he would regain composure and realize he had done the right thing. He had saved them.

Yet it was not lost on Rick that the cost to himself was great. Though his family was safe, they were without him, and he was without them. That is what fuelled him and his urge to leave the community. When he was well enough to work, they asked him to. Jadis asked him to. Her being allowed to stay, it seemed, was riding on Rick's cooperation and willingness to toil and sweat as a form of recompense.

He reminded her that he had a family back in Alexandria; this meant very little to her. He knew she was a selfish person, but this was another level of malice. He reminded himself that she should meet a swift end if ever he was afforded to opportunity to do so. With each failed attempt at escape; with each subsequent beating and imprisonment, Rick grew more determined to free himself of the walls of this prison dressed up as civilization. But he needed to be smart. They had locked him away for long enough, now he would convince them he was ready to join the workforce.

Presently, he found himself being given food and water. He would play the grateful prisoner for a time, even agree to work their fields, until it was time for him to make his move. Jadis stood at the other side of the small cell and watched him. He chewed the food slowly, so he did not choke, and hoped it would be enough to give his some physical strength.

"You don't have to spend the rest of your life in here," she said. He said nothing. It was the same message she delivered each and every time she visited. "There's work to be done; debts to be paid, if you're ready to do what's needed without trying to get away, they will have you. They will let you out of this shithole."

Rick washed his food down with the water she brought with her. He then looked up and met her eyes. Determination rose in his aching stomach until it seeped through his tired bones and flowed through his veins. He cleared his throat and said, barely above a whisper, "I'm ready."

…..

The sun was bright and it burned his eyes. Being locked away in the dark cell did not help to maintain his eyesight. It took a moment to adjust to being outdoors in that daylight again. A guard stayed with Rick while he went to wash up. The dirt and grime fell from his weary body and the cold water rejuvenated him. As he found his bearings, he remembered that the prison cells were near the agricultural fields, and the sprawling community was off in the distance.

Rick slicked his long curls back, and ran his hand over his thick, mostly-white beard. He would not waste time visiting a barber, for half of the day was already gone. Instead, he chose to begin to work the fields. If he did that for a week or so, maybe the powers that be would be more lax with the security detail; maybe they would be fooled into thinking he was ready to repay them for their so-called hospitality and kindness.

…..

With each day that passed, Rick grew stronger. With each day, he was able to take note of the routines of the guards, and identify if there were any structural weaknesses in the walls: There were none, but off in one of the corners, the barrier was low. What he understood of this community was that it was part of a larger network. No one told him where he was in the world; no one told how far he was from home. It was something of a security measure against those whom the community had acquired.

It was the end of another workday, a few weeks into his duties, and Rick was packing away the farming implements and chemicals he was using. The guards' watchful eyes were never far away, so there was no way he could take one of the tools back to the cells with him. As he brushed his curls from his brow, he had an idea. It just might work, too, he mused, if he could get word to the other prisoners and gain their support. Upon approaching one of the guards, he put forth his request.

"Do you think I'd be able to see the barber tonight?" asked Rick as he ran his hand through his mess of curls. "Didn't realize how much of a bitch it was to let my hair get so long."

The guard eyed him, and then nodded his head before saying, "Yeah. Don't see why not. I'll send him around after meal time."

"Thanks," said Rick as he ambled toward the mess hall to have dinner and spread a few whispers of dissent.

…..

The thing about the prison block in the community was that it was only guarded by two people at any time: One on the inside, and the other at the outer door. It was their own hubris about the fortitude of their infrastructure that accounted for this somewhat relaxed approach. Rick was going to use it to his advantage.

He waited in his cell for the barber to come; upon their arrival, Rick played the willing punter in need of a cut and shave. He backed away from the cell door when the sentry unlocked it, and took up a seat on the stool the barber brought in.

"Yell if you need anything," said the guard as he closed the door and left the two men inside the cell. Rick noticed it was not locked. They would be foolish to lock someone in there with a prisoner. There was no way they would even entertain letting a prisoner go with a hostage. Luckily, Rick had no intentions of taking a hostage.

"What'd you need?" asked the barber as he sharpened his straight razor on the leather strap attached to his bag.

"Get rid of the beard," said Rick. "But leave the curls, my wife loves them. She'll want to run her fingers through them when I break free from this place and find her."

"Eh?" asked the barber.

As quickly as he grew confused, Rick was on him and had freed the razor from his grasp. He used it to slice it across the barber's neck. His limp body fell to the dusty floor as the people in the cells next to Rick started yelling and banging on their cages. The guards were back there in no time, one before the other. Rick rammed the freshly sharpened blade into the first guard's stomach, before disembowelling him. He moved to the next guard and kicked him in the shin, effectively breaking his leg just below the knee. He cried out in pain and dropped to the floor before Rick took the razor from the other guard's still-writhing corpse, and slit his throat. He searched their bodies for the keys and took one lot for himself, and gave the others to the other prisoners.

Havoc ensued as everyone ran from the block to make their escape. They used chemicals on hand to fuel the fires; they set the cellblock and the crops alight. Some dashed for the fences and ran for the walls. Others wanted retribution for their captivity and were intent on doing as much damage as they could. It took some time before alarms were sounded and the police force came. Rick hid over near one of the tool sheds and watched the chaos unfurl. While the authorities were busy with chasing down escapees and extinguishing fires, Rick crept away to the quiet corner of the yard and scaled the fence in the place where it was lowest.

By the time the fires were put out and the prisoners were either captured or killed, Rick was running furiously through the abandoned streets of the outlying surrounds. He ran until his legs felt like they would give way. He ran until his lungs hurt. He ran until he could no longer smell the smoke from the fires. He ran until his body was so heavy that it collapsed to the soft dirt on the side of a sealed road. He willed himself to stand and figure out where he was. In the moonlight, he was able to see a sign that read: Welcome to Ohio. So much to discover…