Carl and I went down to the baby store and found a really cute crib that should be perfect. We made some chit-chat during, talking about the members of his group, keeping it light. He told me about a girl named Beth and her sister Maggie, their father Hershel who's the kind of doctor and grandpa of the place, and a guy named Daryl, who seems pretty bad-ass by his description of him. He says that the two of us would like each other.

By the time we make it back, Rick is there with what looks like an angry Michonne. He has all of our stuff ready and is holding the bags. "I was just about to look for you," he says.

"Sorry," says Carl.

"It's all right. You're here now."

"Let's get going. Now." says Michonne, the both of us grabbing bags from Rick. "Thanks," he says, all of us walking out. We see the man from before. "So, he's okay?" I say.

"No. He's not," Rick says as we walk away.

"Hey!" yells Carl. "Hey, Morgan!" he looks up from his work.

"I had to shoot you. You know I had to, right? Sorry," Morgan nods slightly, walks up and says "Hey, son." We all stop again. "Don't you ever be sorry." he says. Carl nods, and we keep walking, finding our way back to the car, Carl and Rick putting the crib in the trunk while Michonne and I wait in the car.

"What'do you think of her? She all right?" I overhear Rick say to Carl.

"She might just be one of us, dad." he says back, and I find myself smiling at the boys words.

Michonne gets back out of the car as Carl gets in, going to put some things in the trunk and talking to Rick. "What're you so smiley about?" I hear Carl ask from beside me in the backseat.

I look over to him, and he's smiling as well. "I should be asking you the same thing, Mister!" I laugh, lightly punching him in the arm. "Oh, shut up," he laughs, punching me back. Michonne and Rick get back in the car, driving off, and we all sit in a comfortable, and for once in a very long time, happy, silence.

Eventually I see a clearing that has a giant grey building, a giant fence around its boarders. "Whoa..." I say, not even realizing it.

"This is the prison," says Carl, pointing in the obvious direction of the mass of brick and metal fence in front of us. I see some people on the opposite side of the fence, opening it up for us to come in. Once we're in and the gates closed, we start piling out of the car. I look around taking in the scene. "Emma!" I turn around at the voice of Carl. "Help me take care of this crib, will ya?" I nod and smile, making my way over and lifting the crib out of the car on the count of three. I hear a woman behind go, "Who's that?" Probably asking Rick.

"Maybe you should go get introduced to everybody, first, Emma," says Carl. "I'll catch up with you later," he says, getting Michonne to grab the other end of the crib for him when I hear Rick call for me.

I turn around and walk in his direction, where a blonde teenage girl and an older, maybe in her twenties, girl stand. "Hi!" The younger girl says. "I'm Beth." She leans over to shake my hand, very enthusiastically. "And you are?" she asks.

"Beth, Maggie, This is Emma. Emma, this is Beth and Maggie."

"I thought picking up strangers off of the side of the road wasn't allowed," says Maggie, not caring if I hear her or not.

"The girl's fourteen. She's been on her own for almost two months, killed four people, countless walkers. She can easily pull her weight. I'm not accepting her into the group, just wanted to get her off the streets like she was. I wouldn't want Carl out there like that. She needed to come with us," he says, doing a good job of defending me.

Maggie doesn't seem very convinced and walks away, arms crossed in front of her, Rick leaving as well. "Ignore her. She's jusst having a hard time right now, that's all," says Beth, giving me a sad smile. "Here, let me introduce you to the rest of the group," she says, linking arms with me. "I've been needing a girlfriend my age around here," she says chuckling. I laugh along with her, as we make our way to the prison walls.

We find our way up some stairs and into a cell block, along with what looks like a mess-hall, that's holds a few more people that I haven't seen before. When Beth and I come in they all look up. "Who's this Beth?" asks an old man, what I imagine is the Hershel Carl was talking about. "Daddy, this is Emma. This is my dad, Hershel." she says, un-linking with me and pushing me forward a little to go shake his hand. I do, and then she goes around the room pointing to a few people.

"That's Glenn, Maggie's boyfriend. Maggie is my sister, by the way. You obviously already know Michonne, Rick, and Carl," she says, enthusiastically counting off on her fingers. Another man walks into the room. "And this is Daryl! His brother Merle is around here somewhere, too, but I wouldn't bother trying to introduce you to him." She mumbles the last part so only I can hear her.

"And who is this little lady?" Daryl asks, his accent strong. Beth is about to introduce me to him when I walk up and offer my hand. "Emma." I say, looking up at him. He smirks, taking my hand to shake. "Quite the shake you got on you," he says, letting go and grabbing my shoulder. "Thanks." I say as he lets go.

"So why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself, Emma?" asks Hershel. I take a seat at the long table. "What do you wanna know?"

"Well, why were you all by yourself?" asks Beth, sitting down across from me.

I take a deep breath, ready to tell these people everything about me and my life, hoping that maybe opening up will help my chances with sticking with them. "Well, I was with my parents for a long time after the apocalypse started. We found a nice house that was near a few supermarkets, so we were all set for a long time. Then, one day, my parents were out on a run to get some more supplies and my mom came back holding my dying dad in her arms. He had gotten bit. That was about six months ago. After that it was just me and my mom, and she tried to remain optimistic about everything but that didn't work very well. About a month and a half ago, she got shot in the chest by somebody. They almost shot me, but I stabbed them and they backed off. I would have killed him if he had stuck around a little longer, or if I had a gun. He ran. My mom died. I've been on my own ever since."

I really spilled my guts. When I looked up, silence filling the air, Beth was on the verge of tears. She reached over to me and grabbed my hand trying to comfort me. "You an only child?" I hear Daryl ask.

"Uh, no. I have an older sister. Her name's Delilah, and she's twenty-three. I don't know where she is, though. She was gone off to college, so she was far away. I haven't seen her in years. I don't know if she's alive or not." Beth squeezes my hand, wiping her face with her free sleeve.

"Well. You seem like you've been through quite a lot," says Hershel. "Beth, why don't you get her settled in here? Find her a cell to sleep in, show her around, give her the rundown of how things go around here."

"Does that mean I'm allowed in?" I chime in.

"I don't have a problem with you being here. Rick apparently doesn't either. We'll take a vote tonight or tomorrow morning, but I don't think there should be anything for you to worry about." he says, smiling at me. I feel Beth wrap her arm around me andlead me out of the room, walking up some stairs and leading me into a cell. "This can be yours. Mine is to the left and Carl's to the right on the corner. You're lucky we have an extra for you," she says, smiling at me. "You got a bag?" she asks.

"Yeah. My bag is in the car," I say, sitting down and moving up and down on the bed, hearing it squeak slightly. "Okay, if you need anything I'm here. And I don't mean just right now or around the prison. If you need anything I'm here. I'm gonna go check on Maggie. You should go get your bag and just hang out. Maybe go find Carl. He can show you a few things you can do around here. Maybe sharpen your skills on shooting or something," she says, smiling. "Is that supposed to be saying something about my shooting skills?" I say jokingly, a smile on my face.

"Hey, I didn't say nothin'," she says, laughing and backing out of the room.

I look around my cell. There really isn't anything much here, but I haven't had a bed in such a long time. I mean, a real bed. Blow up mattresses, cots, medical beds, you name it. But not a real bed. Not in months.

I walk out and to my left, into Beth's cell. She has a few pictures hung up of what looks like her and Maggie, and a small grey dresser like I have in my room. Except she has one more thing. A mirror.

I haven't looked in a mirror in six months. I walk in front of it slowly. My hair is just as red as ever, but I look older. Losing my baby-face a little bit, and my complexion is clearer than it's ever been. My clothes are a mess, but that much doesn't really matter. I look at my face and just stare. I look so much older than I did six months ago. My eyes are just as hazel as they've always been, a color I was lucky to get. My chest is bigger and I'm a little taller, which is amazing considering how ridiculously short I am.

I walk away from my dirty reflection and slowly into Carl's room. I'm not sure why. I'm just curious. His room look exactly the same as mine, besides that the bed isn't made. He has the picture frame of him, his mom and Rick on the small dresser. He must have come in here and put it down sometime when I wasn't paying attention. I pick up the photo and look at it again. This woman, she's pretty. Beautiful, really. I wasn't lying when I said Carl looks like her.

"I heard what you said back there," I hear a voice form behind me says, startling me. I whip myself around and see who's face belongs to the voice. Carl.

"What do you mean?" I ask, setting the picture down on the dresser.

"Everything about your mom and dad." He looks down at his shoes, leaning against the door frame and playing with his hands. "I'm sorry," he says looking up as I slide onto the floor.

"It's fine. It doesn't bother me." I say, really nonchalantly. He looks at me like I'm crazy, walking towards me but not bothering to sit. "What do you mean it 'doesn't bother' you?" he asks, as if I'm out of my mind.

"I mean, it doesn't bother me." he looks at me again, as if asking for some kind of clarification.

"I promised myself that I wouldn't be sad about it... it would only make me depressed, and being by myself like I was, I couldn't do that to myself. I just decided I wouldn't think about it. People die all the time. Especially in a hell like this. There's nothing I can do about it."

I look up at him, and tears are pricking at his eyes. "How could you say that? They were your parents! And what, after all of those years, after all they taught you and all they gave up for you, after the bonds that you made and, hell, just being with them, they just mean nothing to you?" he asks, his voice threatening to yell.

"Hey," I say, sternness in my voice apparent, pissed off that he would say I didn't care. "They don't mean nothing to me. They, themselves mean something. It's just this world that means nothing to me. Their deaths, those goddamned monsters and crazed people trying to kill everyone they meet is what means nothing to me! I don't give a damn what you think about the way that I choose to live, but ignoring my feelings about the matter has worked out just fine for me up until this point, and I'm not gonna sit here and let you critisize the way I choose to live in a fucking zombie apocalypse!" I yell at him, not even realizing I had stood up, was pointing my finger at his chest, close enough to his face that I could feel his breath on mine.

He just stood there, and I watched the shock and anger on his face turn into sympathy. Then he wraps his arms around me. I'm so stunned I just keep my hands in the air around his back, but I can't bring myself to hug him. "I don't want your sympathy," I say into his shoulder.

"Don't think of it as sympathy, then. Think of it as a common interest."

"Common sadness," I say, chuckling into his shoulder. I wrap my arms around him and close my eyes, taking in the feeling that somebody else cares.