TWD: Awakened As Rick

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:

10+ Chapters

patreon.com/Jayzero

________________________

The clang of hammer on steel echoed through the clearing like church bells in a dead city.

T-Dog wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and adjusted the welding goggles on his face. He knelt beside Joel, both of them working on reinforcing the east gate hinges with salvaged metal plates. The weld sparked and hissed like an angry viper as he pressed down.

The job wasn't glamorous. Wasn't heroic. But it was necessary.

And T-Dog had always believed that the little things—the ones no one praised you for—mattered most.

He stood, rolling his sore shoulder as the afternoon sun baked the dirt beneath his boots. The gate was stronger now. Another piece secured. Another day that The Right Arm held against the rot trying to eat its way inside.

He stepped back and surveyed their work. Joel nodded.

"That'll hold for now."

T-Dog smiled faintly. "Good. We'll check the west gate next. Can't let these folks sleep with holes in the walls."

Joel headed off to grab more tools. T-Dog stayed behind, eyes scanning the community as it moved like a living, breathing thing.

Women carried buckets from the well. Kids ran barefoot between rows of beans and tomatoes. Daryl was sharpening his arrows by the smokehouse. And Rick Grimes… well, he was always somewhere.

That man didn't rest.

And neither did T-Dog.

He remembered Atlanta.

The screams. The chaos.

He remembered swinging a pipe against a walker's skull while crying and praying at the same time.

He remembered thinking, This is how I die.

But now, as he stood within the sturdy walls of a place he helped build, something had changed.

He no longer felt like he was waiting to die.

He was living.

And more importantly—he was contributing.

Later that afternoon, he helped Jacqui move supply crates from the stockroom to the infirmary. She was organizing the next aid distribution with Sarah, and he was more than happy to lend muscle.

"Careful with that one," Jacqui warned, smiling. "It's got painkillers and gauze. The last time Morales dropped it, we spent an hour picking up crushed pill bottles."

T-Dog chuckled. "Don't worry. I got it."

They walked side-by-side, weaving through the dirt paths between tents and storage sheds.

"Rick says we'll start teaching first aid to the next group of recruits," Jacqui said. "He wants a rotating med team."

"He always thinking two steps ahead," T-Dog said. "Makes you wonder if he's sleepin' at all."

Jacqui sighed, her tone turning somber. "He carries a lot. More than he lets on."

T-Dog nodded. "That's the weight of being right too often. People start expectin' miracles."

They dropped off the supplies, and Jacqui thanked him with a smile. He waved her off and headed toward the south wall. Patrol duty next.

The quiet walk gave him time to think.

He hadn't always been useful.

Back at the quarry, he'd felt like a ghost half the time—always on the edge, always worried about stepping wrong. He wasn't a leader. Wasn't a hunter. He wasn't loud like Merle or sharp like Glenn. Just a man trying to stay alive and do right by others.

Now?

Now he had purpose.

He trained recruits. He patrolled. He welded, he taught, he fought. He even cracked a joke now and then.

But what surprised him the most?

People listened.

Rick trusted him to watch the gate.

Guillermo asked his opinion on defense strategy.

Even Shane—gruff and impatient as he was—had nodded once and called him "solid."

It felt… good.

At sunset, T-Dog sat on the guard tower watching the horizon bleed orange into purple. The wind carried the scent of roasted corn and river water. Down below, Carl was laughing with Sophia near the fire while Carol tended the stew pot.

Rick climbed the ladder and joined him, binoculars slung around his neck. He said nothing at first, just stood there, scanning the woods like always.

"Quiet night," T-Dog said, breaking the silence.

"For now," Rick replied.

T-Dog glanced over. "You ever stop looking over your shoulder?"

Rick chuckled dryly. "No. Not since I woke up in that hospital."

A pause stretched between them.

"You built something here," T-Dog said. "We all did. But it started with you."

Rick lowered the binoculars. "I didn't do this alone."

"No, but you made us believe we could. That matters."

Rick didn't smile, but his eyes softened.

"You've stepped up, T. More than anyone. You don't ask for credit, but I see it."

T-Dog looked out toward the woods again.

"I don't need credit," he said quietly. "I just want to do right by people. We've seen what happens when the wrong voices get power."

Rick nodded. "That's why I want you training the new batch of guards. With Guillermo handling logistics, we need someone solid on internal security. That someone is you."

T-Dog blinked, surprised.

"I mean… yeah. Of course. I won't let you down."

Rick nodded once, then climbed down without another word.

T-Dog leaned on the rail, letting the weight of the moment settle.

He'd never seen himself as a leader.

But maybe, just maybe, that's what made him fit for the job.

Later that night, he sat alone near the fire pit, hands clasped, staring into the flames. The stars blinked high above. Somewhere out in the dark, walkers still roamed. The world was still broken.

But here, within these walls, something new was being born.

Not just survival.

Community.

And T-Dog wasn't on the edge anymore.

He was part of the core.

_____________________

If you enjoy my work, consider supporting me on Patreon for early access, exclusive chapters, and more:

10+ Chapters

patreon.com/Jayzero