She isn't sure how long they sit there, tangled up in one another on the ground surrounded my heaps of scrap metal and. Rick is the first to pull away, but his hand lingers on her cheek as he turns back to the group. They've all moved off to a campsite that is a few lawn chairs and car seats arranged around a small low-burning flame. They're speaking in hushed tones that don't reach across the distance well enough that she can make out what they're saying.

"Lori," Rick says her name and she realizes how strange it sounds to her now after so long. Lori. Jane. Whore. They all kind of linger around her without exactly… fitting. Like a shirt that is the right size but just doesn't feel right. "Lori, I don't understand."

She looks down to where his hand has covered hers and wants to tell him everything. As though it could all be that simple.

"Mom?" Carl speaks this time and she is surprised again by how deep his voice is. "Can't you-," he starts to ask.

Rick eases his arm around her back and she anticipates his movements before they happen to work in tandem at getting her to her feet. "She just needs time, Carl. To adjust to things."

"No shit," her son mutters, jamming one hand into his jean pocket.

She catches his other hand as they approach the camp where the whispers immediately halt and all eyes fix on her again. Their stares make her want to crawl out of her skin or run away but Rick is already guiding her onto a bench that looks like it could clip into the back of a minivan. As though glued to her, Carl sits next to her, his side flush with hers and she thinks that maybe he hadn't grown up so much after all.

She strokes his too-long hair back from his forehead to distract herself from having to deal with all of the eyes on her. They'd thought she was dead… Baby'd be- he'd been telling the truth. They hadn't been looking for her at all. She can see it on their faces plain as day. But… where had they'd thought she'd gone?

"We should check on that arm," Rick whispers, reaching out to touch where a wound is still oozing steadily.

"Bullet must have grazed it," she looks up to catch Michonne shoot the red-haired man a death glare. "Lori has some wounds on her back too that need to be cleaned. Is there anything for that here?" The name sounds even stranger on when Michonne says it, maybe to both of them because the other woman hesitates on its second syllable.

Glenn gets to his feet and picks up a backpack. "We don't have much in the way of supplies. But we have some wet wipes… and some duct tape."

"No gauze, bandages?" Michonne is already approaching him and Lori notes how comfortable they seem together. She wonders how long they have known each other, and how, and why it hadn't come up before.

"This look like an infirmary to you?" The red-haired man stalks around towards the fire and nudges it with his boot before walking away again, his weapon in hand.

Arms full, Michonne approaches where Lori is seated. "Doesn't look like an asshole parade either, yet here you are…" she mutters, crouching down.

Carl snorts and moves to the side to let Michonne work though he keeps his hand twisted in the fabric of her shirt. The other woman unclips her knife and opens it. She uses one of the wet wipes to clean off the blade and Lori watches curiously at the process as she sinks the blade into a… diaper. The baby.

She finds Beth on the other side of the camp, a bundle of blankets on her lap that don't quite conceal an infant whose legs are draped over the young woman's knees. The baby is clearly asleep, the blanket pulled up over its head to protect it from the sun. She wonders if.. A sudden sting draws her attention back to her arm as Michonne wipes the graze with a swipe.

"What's up with him anyway?" she asks, inspecting the gash before placing a piece of the diaper over it. "Hold," she mutters and Jane lifts her hand to hold the make-shift bandage in place while Michonne looks for the end of the duct tape roll.

"Abraham?" Glenn asks, picking up a toolbox and heading towards a vehicle that someone has been working on. The white vans open hood creates a gaping mouth where the engine is exposed. "His plans didn't work out so well," the young man fills her in vaguely. "He thinks we're headed in the wrong direction."

Michonne continues to work on taping Lori's arm without another word, but Lori can see her friend's mind working.

Turning her attention back to the baby, Rick must catch her because his face cracks into a smile and the look in his eyes answers the flood of questions that disorient her. "Judith," he tells her, getting to his feet. Beth's smile is a shy smirk as she eases the sleeping baby into Rick's arms and Lori shifts nervously in her seat as her husband approaches with the bundle. The baby is big… maybe seven or eight months, she guesses. Had it been that long? Had she missed that much?

When Rick stops in front of her, their toes touching, she isn't sure what to do. "We called her Judith," Carl pipes in. "She's, uh," he falters too under the tension and seems to forget where he was going with the sentence. "Pretty cool," he finishes and hangs his head.

"Do you want to..." Rick gestures to pass the baby and before she can say no he has transferred the tiny girl into her arms. She is heavier than she looks and Lori's arm protests the weight, but she lowers the baby gently to her lap to compensate.

The baby is a little brunette with cheeks that Lori can tell already have been inherited from her side of the family. Soft brown hair sweeps across a curved forehead and Lori wonders what the baby's eye colour is. She looks like Carl did as a baby, down to the button nose and the shape of her chin, like Rick's.

"She's been kind of grumpy all day," Beth concedes lifting one shoulder, her fingers twisting around the end of her ponytail as though she isn't sure what to do with her hands now. "I think she misses Carol."

At the other woman's name, Lori glances around the camp and realizes she is absent. Maggie too.

"Oh, no," Beth quickly interjects, her cheeks tinged red. "Nothin' like that. She and Maggie jus' went to look for supplies. Formula for Judith, maybe somethin' for us too, you know…supplies. They just aren't back yet, is all."

Lori turns back to the baby in her arms as she stretches, her tiny hands closed into fists and her eyes open to reveal blue eyes that match her father and brother. The baby looks interested for a moment as she peers back at Lori, and then her lower lip quivers and her face morphs as she collapses into tears and tries to sit up. Lori helps her into and upright position but the volume of the infant's cries immediately set her on edge and she finds herself shoving her back into Rick's arms as she gets to her own feet and backs away.

"It's alright, she's-," Rick hands the baby to Carl and takes a few steps towards Lori, one hand extended as though he is trying to talk a jumper off a ledge. "She's just hungry and she doesn't know who you are yet."

Judith's piercing cries rattle through her and she finds herself backed up against the side of a crushed car with Rick still closing in. She knows on one rational level that it's just Rick; he'd never hurt her. But on another level, the one that seems to be winning, her heart is threatening to pound clean through her ribcage and she lifts her hands to block out the sound. Hands close over her own but they aren't stronger than hers – they don't dwarf her own. They don't fight to stop her but instead press harder, helping her to block out the sound as she slides down the side of the car, her knees finding her chest.

It takes her a few moments to get her frayed nerves back under control, but when she does she slowly opens her eyes to fall into the endless dark ones before her. "You good?" Michonne pulls her hands away and eventually Lori does too. She drops them onto the ground beside her and her knuckles connect with the compacted dirt. She's physically and emotionally exhausted.

"You good?" Michonne asks again. When Lori offers her a tentative nod she accepts it easily. "Why don't I clean up your back, okay?"

Lori finds Rick by the fire sitting on the edge of his seat, a still watery eyed Judith propped up on his forearm, her tiny fingers tangled up in his beard. Carl is gone and it takes her a second to locate him over by the van with Glenn, his hands closed around a wrench.

"Just us two," Michonne adds and Lori nods, grateful. She isn't ready for Rick to see her yet. When Michonne slips away to collect the medical supplies, Lori drops her head, her cheek resting on the bony curve of her knee. She'd never allowed herself to hope, not for a long time at least, that maybe one day she'd find her family again. That she'd hold her son or meet her baby. That she'd hear Rick's voice again. After she'd discovered the prison destroyed and abandoned she'd figured they were gone for good. And the baby, lifting her eyes she watching the tiny girl for a moment, unsure of how she was supposed to feel towards her. Instead of the fierce protectiveness that she felt for Carl she found herself numb and empty.

The sound of footsteps approaching her makes her look over to Michonne who is returning with the supplies. Moving stiffly, she pushes herself away from the car to give her friend access to her back. Shivering, she rests her chin on her knees as she feels her shirt slide up to expose her sore back.

"I'm going to have to clean it good," Michonne mutters, tearing open a wipe. "It isn't gonna feel like a trip to the spa."

Nodding her consent, Lori braces herself, sinking her teeth into her lip, her forehead dropping forward as she buries her face in her lap. A small whimper escapes her lips and an apology falls from Michonne's lips. The alcohol in the wipe stings badly enough that tears blur her vision and she finds herself gripping the fabric of her pants desperate for something to hold onto.

"You're good," Michonne assures her and saws off another piece of diaper. "Lot more where that came from. We're gonna have to do this a couple times a day."

Can't wait… Jane grits her teeth and glanced over her shoulder to catch the shape of Michonne's cheek and the thick ropes of her hair draped over her shoulder. "Don't give me that look," Michonne breathes tearing a piece of duct tape free from the roll.

Lori keeps her eyes on what she could see of her friend. They sit in silence for a few minutes while Michonne works, her fingers feather-light on Lori's skin, even when she pressed the tape into place. "So… crazy," the woman finally says, her voice steady.

Turning her head, Lori returns her eyes to Carl, her chest tightening. That was one word for it, she supposed.

"You ready to go back over there or should I keep pretending to be busy?" Tearing her eyes away from her son, Lori takes a deep breath to collect herself. She hadn't even noticed that Michonne had stopped working. She wonders how long she'd blanked out for.

Getting to her feet she takes a moment to dust herself off before approaching Rick again. He watches her carefully, his brow pinched in confusion and hurt as he pulls Judith closer, his hand cupping the back of her head to guide it into his shoulder. She wants to apologize, she means to, but her throat seizes like a fist, gripping her words before they can even form.

"Shhhh, kitty." Hot hands on her face, pushing her hair back off her brow, a clumsy pinky jabbing her in the eye , hot puffs of sour breath against her cheek. "Not a fucking word or I'll slit your fucking throat."

Something brushes the back of her hand and she looks down to find Rick's fingertips skimming over her skin, seeking her palm until she allows him to thread their fingers, locking them together.

"Lori," he swallows, his brow wrinkling as he leans forward to capture her eyes. "I- I don't know what happened… Jesus, I don't even know if this is real or if I'm just," he shakes his head slightly, as though he'd changed his mind about what he was going to say. "All I know is that if you're here this is a goddamn miracle"

It didn't feel like a miracle. Or not more than a sorry excuse for one.

"But whatever it is, whatever happened," he rises, the baby in his arms shifting to twist around to face her mother. "You're here and that's all that matters, right?"

The crystal sincerity in his blue eyes makes her heart hurt as she recognizes the man before her for the first time in a long time. After everything that had happened between them she wasn't sure if there was any hope for them left inside him. After all the months in the dark it was almost like a lighthouse across stormy, violent ocean that she'd been treading water in for too long.

"Incoming," Abraham calls out and Daryl gets to his feet immediately.

The two men jog over to the large rusted gate with its shredded black canvas cover, their feet kicking up dust in their wake. She turns to watch them undo a heavy latch and a thick rope of chain. Turning back to Rick she reaches for her machete before realizing it isn't strapped to her belt. Eyes darting around the camp, she locates her weapon propped up against a green duffle bag. Rick follows her eyes, his mouth settling into a barely-there smile.

"Won't be needing that," his thumb stroking her finger. "I'll be the others returning. Maggie, Carol, Sasha and her brother Tyreese."

The baby in his arms sighs and lays her head onto his shoulder, one pudgy cheek squished as she settles into him, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, blue eyes glazed over and sleepy.

Behind her the gates grind open and she turns to watch an SUV pull in enough to clear the gate and then come to a jerking stop. Glenn has already abandoned his tools before the first door opens and darts past her to scoop Maggie into her arms the second her feet his the ground. Others pile out, two people that she doesn't know – a bear-sized man and a slender woman. She has already forgotten their names.

Her eyes settle on the driver and she turns away from Rick to stare at the short-haired woman straight on. The other woman's movement have stilled, her fingers white-knuckling the top of the door, her greyish eyes widened on her stricken expression. A silent word falls from her lips but she doesn't move as she looks to Rick, her face paling until her skin looks almost transparent.

Maggie stands stock still too, Glenn's hand closed around his forearm as he whispers something in her ear. The young woman looks shaken - understandably – as her eyes slide towards Carl questioningly.

The camp is a tableau, and it seems like no one is willing to move first. Until Rick does, his hand settling onto her shoulder so suddenly that it startles her but she doesn't pull away and instead sinks her teeth into her cheek and bears the weight of it. Glenn says something to Carol as she slides the door closed and she pauses mid-step, then continues forward until she is within arms reach.

"I can't believe this is real," she whispers. "How is it possible?"

Eyes falling away from the other woman's to Rick's hand still on her shoulder, she feels shakes her head, unsure exactly what she is trying to say.

She winces as Carol's hands lift, but doesn't move away. Lowering her eyes again she watches nimble fingers slide under the hem of her shirt and lift it slowly, exposing her. The other woman's face remains placid but her eyes give her away as they well and glisten with a thin sheen of tears at the jagged scar that stretches like railroad tracks across her own abdomen. She doesn't have to see it to know how ugly it is.

"I wanted to save you," Carol's voice is tight and gravelly as she skims her fingers over the scar. "I thought-," she lifts her eyes, "Lori," a lone tear slips free and traces a tiny river down her cheek. "God, things never work out the way you think."