Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: Another of those: 'because I needed to speak to my feelings after 6x03,' of fics. *This fic is based around the AU that Nicholas and Glenn both survived the walker horde but where delayed a few days and by the time they made it home, Alexandria had been overrun and destroyed.

Warnings: spoilers for 6x03 to the mid-season finale, 6x03 AU where in which I fix one thing and break everything else. Sexual content, angst, depression, loss, hurt/comfort.

Grow (inside the fracture of my heart)

"I guess I'm losing hope that you can hear me, but there is always that chance isn't there? That slim chance. It's all about slim chances now. I try to do everything right. Keep people safe. I tried Morgan; I tried. Our group's smaller now. We lost another day before last. It was her choice. I won't say I blame her. She lost faith. The CDC was a dead end. I met a man there…a scientist…he told me something. He told me…it doesn't matter. What matters is we're moving on. Atlanta's done. We're going to try Fort Benning. We're facing a long hard journey. Maybe even harder than I can imagine. But it can't be harder than our journey has been so far…can it? Hundred and twenty-five miles, that what lies ahead. And I'm trying hard not to lose faith. I can't, if I do the others, my family, my wife, my son. There is just a few of us now, so we got to stick together. Fight for each other. Be willing to lay down our lives for each other if it comes to that. It's the only chance we got. Be careful out there Morgan. I hope you and Duane are okay."

He learned Nicholas in fractions.

He learned him after they'd both lost everything.

After the blood and guts splattered thick across their clothes stained through.

After their water bottles drained empty.

After Nicholas collapsed in the dirt on the ridge overlooking the toppled walls.

Eyes blank and half-dead as his curled his fingers into the loamy dust.

Covering his ears as he stood next to him and screamed Maggie's name.

Calling out again and again only to get slapped by the echoes.

He lost it for a little while after that.

Sinking the bloody hatchet they'd found abandoned by Eugene's packsack on the side of the road into walker after walker. Dissociating until he stumbled, streaming brackish red down every inch of him as the axe slipped from his fingers. Looking back at the sprawling piles of bodies blankly before he started recognizing faces. Seeing them in his mind's eye as his vision devolved into black bursts and uneven static. Surprised in spite of himself when Nicholas was there to catch him before he fell.

When he woke up, Nicholas had them all burning in a pyre. Filling the air with the sickly-sweet smell of burning flesh and new death. Robbing him of the chance to mourn and come to grips with what he'd lost on his own time. Taking the decision out of his hands, along with any chance of seeing her – seeing any of them – one last time as Nicholas handed him the ring he'd given Maggie that day at the prison like a consolation prize.

He split the man's cheek open with his fist and they never spoke about it again.

It wasn't until later that he realized it was just another facet of the fall.

Another way Nicholas had caught him before he'd hit the ground.

It had taken them almost four days to make it back to Alexandria.

Or what was left of it.

They only had each other after that.

Well, almost.

They found Judith by accident as they were packing up what was left of the supplies into one of the cars. Barricaded up in one of the rooms upstairs like a last stand. Whimpering and dehydrated, but surprisingly fine.

Alive.

He didn't really remember what Nicholas had lost until the man reached into the crib with shaking hands and pulled her out. Cradling her in the crook of his arm as he knuckled at the salt tracks of half dried tears on her chubby cheeks. Closing his eyes into her messy hair as she buried her face into the curve of him and murmured wordless babbles of relief into his skin.

It reminded him of everything he could have been.

Everything Nicholas had been.

Everything they weren't anymore.

What did you call someone who'd lost a child?

Was there even a name for it?

It ended up being a thread of loss that connected them in a way neither of them were really ready for. Something that gave them the strength to drive out of Alexandria's ruined walls, away from the still burning pyre and pick a direction to nowhere. Helping each other put one step in front of the other as Judith burbled to herself in the backseat. Looking back at them with Lori's warm eyes - endlessly patient as they faced the open road together.

This was what life looked like now.

The first time Nicholas stroked his fingers down the column of his throat – host to just enough pressure to make him feel vulnerable – his first instinct had been to bare his teeth and snarl. It had been more animal hurt than anything. Or at least it had been until Nicholas had growled right back, dug his nails into the stiff of his neck and held him there.

Then it turned into something else.

Something that ended with them slamming each other into walls and office chairs.

Something that curdled like sick-up and need in the back of his throat.

Something he found himself screaming for before he really understood why.

Something that made him forget to be nervous - to pull away - and instead just feel.

Something that end with Nicholas' cock hot and pulsing in his hand and the taste of unfamiliar blood pebbled across his lips.

After that there wasn't a kiss Nicholas ever hesitated to turn filthy.

He didn't tell him about the dreams.

About how in his head it sometimes played out a different way. That it had ended and started with a gunshot. With the taste of iron on his tongue and the sound of tearing flesh echoing under the metal of the dumpster. Fading to black as Nicholas' dull, dead blue eyes stared back at him through the darkness. Reminding him of all the reasons why the crimson-red of fresh blood was his least favourite color.

Sometimes he felt like he was going to drown in it. Choked alive as he watched Judith wobble shakily to her feet and take her first steps towards Nicholas' waiting hands. Forcing himself to smile and swallow it back as Nicholas swung her around above his head excitedly when she finally figured it out. Laughing with her as she squealed in glee. Patting at his lips with her grubby little hands until he pecked her cheek. His dark curls curtaining over her face as he set her down and repeated the entire thing until they were both exhausted. Napping side beside side on the stale smelling futon in the back of the camper van as he remained cross-legged inside the half-open door. Trying to understand the physics of what he'd lost versus the good of what he'd gained as they breathed quietly behind him.

Still, he didn't say anything.

Nicholas didn't need that weight.

Nicholas kissed like a thunder storm. Hard, wet and viciously-sweet, just like you'd figure a dangerous storm should be. Even when the moment was lax and all they were braving was the stale taint of morning breath – noses twitching at the dust motes in yet another stranger bed - Nicholas tried to own it.

It wasn't about dominance or control. Not really. It was just an expression. Everything Nicholas figured he lacked, everything he kept bottled up inside always came exploding out whenever they had the chance to be like this – together. Devoting every inch of himself in a way that never failed to make his knees go weak every single time.

It was a heady thing that he'd learned to appreciate as the months sipped past and they stopped looking for reasons not to sleep side by side on the only bed. For reasons why they shouldn't - couldn't – and every excuse in between.

Nicholas was different.

New.

What they were didn't remind him of what he'd had with Maggie.

It didn't remind him of anything or anyone other than what was right in front of him.

And that was a good thing.

It was only through hindsight that he realized that was exactly what moving on was.

You don't forget.

You don't try and replace it.

But you do start to protect the memories.

You pack them away in bubble wrap and foam in the back of your mind.

Keeping them close, but not letting them hurt you in the same way anymore.

You start trying again.

He figured that these days, that was more than anyone could ask for.

"I burned his last picture of me, because I said he wasn't going to need it anymore. Because I was never going to be away from him again. I'm pregnant. He didn't want me to go out there and I said yes. And if I would've gone… if I was with him, maybe I could've helped him. I don't know if he's alive. He would've shown me by now. That's what Michonne said. I just want to see his face. I can't. I won't get to know what will happen. I won't get to know why it happened, what I did right or wrong. Not now. I have to live with that. You do, too."

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.