These Things: The world's gone to hell – there's just no other way to put it. A sickness spread across the US, infecting the young and the old alike. I'm a long way from home and I may never see my hometown again, but I have to keep fighting. It's them or us; the dead versus the living. Apocalypse: 1, Iva: 0. (OC/Shane)

Disclaimer:I don't own any of the characters from the famous comic book (turned television adaptation) The Walking Dead, but sometimes I wish I was a writer on the show's staff! I will be the first to admit that the characters are a mish mash of their comic book and television personalities. Some might even be horribly butchered, but I've done my best. Iva, Libby, and a few others are my creations, so please give them a bit of respect.

Rating: This story is rating M+ for Mature Audiences. Gore, violence, language, intense situations, sexual innuendo, and sexual scenes occur throughout the course of the story. Chapters containing sexually explicit materials will be properly labeled, but it is advised that children do not read this story.

"I'm not a bad man, I'm just overwhelmed. It's cause of these things, it's cause of these things." – She Wants Revenge, These Things

These Things

~Chapter Fourteen~

"You're healing nicely, Carl, but you still need more time to recover. Do you remember anything else yet?" I prompted as I took the tray holding his lunch, soup and a peach, and sat it on the nearby bureau. He'd regained most of his color and had successfully been keeping liquids and solids down for the last few days. "It hasn't even been two full weeks."

"I know. But I just want to go outside." He peered out the window longingly and I sighed as I perched on the side of the bed next to him. "I want to help. I want to do something."

"There's not a whole lot you can do even if you are outside. I'm just being honest," I reminded him. "I will take you out onto the porch, but you're going to have to stay in a chair. The first sign I see of you moving, I'll set your mother on you."

He was heavier than I anticipated, but I managed to scoop him up like a sack of potatoes and make my way through the house and out onto the front porch. When I settled him down onto a comfortable porch chair, I half-expected him to immediately try to fight against my orders. But, he allowed me to cover him with a thin quilt and he leaned back and observed the front lawn curiously.

It wasn't his first time outside of the room, but he still seemed amazed by the progress that had been made in the last few days. I had to admit that everyone had been working very hard and that the farm itself had certainly changed.

The tractor supply had been an absolute gold mine, and the struggle to clear its interior and exterior of stiffs had certainly been worth the effort. We had raided the supplies, quickly deciding that we could do more with the countless rolls of chain link fencing. With the aid of post hole diggers, shovels, and a lot of redneck ingenuity, we'd erected a perimeter fence around the width of the immediate property. It had taken a lot of manpower and sweat, but the fence was in place.

A storm might knock it over, but its primary purpose was to alert us to the presence of the dead. Pilfered car batteries, also taken from the tractor supply, had been rigged with trial and error to create an electrical current on the fence. It wasn't enough to stun, but it hurt. We tested it on one of the stiffs, quite by accident, and discovered that they weren't particularly fond of the experience.

Additionally, we'd borrowed a John Deere backhoe and a large work truck with a fuel tank in the back and they were now housed on Hershel's farm. Though nobody was intimately familiar with using a backhoe, Dale had done enough home projects to figure it out. We'd used the large piece of machinery to dig narrow trenches further out, surrounding the farm itself with three foot trenches that would catch the dead.

"We're still working on sharpening pikes and getting them in the trenches," I offered conversationally as I leaned against the post on the porch. The front yard was a flurry of activity as everyone carried on with their chores and duties. Carol was helping Patricia with the wash and Glenn and Maggie were off in the stables, caring for the horses. Rick and Shane, I knew, were working on stabilizing the old windmill in the center of the property. Their grand plan was to use it as a watch tower for security purposes, but I wasn't willing to climb up there until a ladder was more secure. "We're putting in some late season vegetables, too. And Hershel thinks some of his neighbors' livestock might be roaming across their properties. Maybe we'll find some piglets."

Carl smiled at the prospect and leaned forward in his chair when his mom walked slowly up the porch steps. Her cheeks were a bit sunken and she swiped her hand across her forehead tiredly, but her eyes lit up when they rested on her son.

"Carl. I'm sorry, angel. I guess I lost track of time. Did you have your lunch already?"

Carl chatted animatedly, explaining the tasty soup I'd served and how I'd stated that his wounds were healing nicely. He described his stitches in minute detail and she covered her mouth in shock before she shook her head.

"Carl!" Sophia called out excitedly as she charged up the porch steps. I reached out to grab her by her shoulder when it appeared as though she was going to launch herself into his lap for a hug. She squirmed nervously. "Sorry. I forgot you were hurt. Do you want to go play?

When he cast a sharp look in my direction, I smiled. I waved my hand in dismissal. "Go ahead. The fresh air will do you some good. But, don't overdo it. If you get tired or winded – that means out of breath – sit down. Lori?"

"Sure, baby. Go on ahead." He pushed the thin quilt off of his shoulders and stood shakily, his sneakers scuffing against the wooden decking as he slowly walked across the porch. "Don't go wandering, Carl. I mean it."

We watched the kids slowly descend the steps and wander towards the little camp area that we'd set up and improved in recent days. I was secretly hopeful that a return to the tractor store was warranted. There were a couple of easy-to-assembly small sheds on the premises. If we could get everything into Otis' truck, we could assemble it on site and we could draw straws for who got to use it as housing.

"Lori?" She turned slowly and lowered herself into the chair that Carl had vacated, her palm pressed to her forehead. When she didn't respond, I strode towards her and placed the back of my hand against her forehead without her permission. "You're clammy. You haven't been eating much the last three days. Yes, I notice things. What's wrong?"

Her lips twitched and her dark eyes filled with tears. "Nothing."

I frowned and folded my arms over my chest. "It's just us here. Everyone is out and about, busy." But that wasn't true. Beth was upstairs in her room, too depressed about the world at large to participate or help. "We have antacids if you need them."

"I'm pregnant," she whispered quietly, eyes full of grief. "Dr. Jenner, at the CDC, he did a blood test on everyone. I didn't believe him when he said I was pregnant. I asked Glenn to get me a pregnancy test. I've done four of them."

I'd been briefed on their visit to the CDC outside of Atlanta, but hadn't been aware that the odd Dr. Jenner I'd heard so much about had taken blood samples from every person that had entered. "There might be options available, depending on how far along you are," I offered, wincing. "It would help to know how far along you think you might be."

She shook her head. "That's the thing. I don't know. I was on the pill forever and was always irregular. I don't remember if I've had one since all this happened." She shifted in her seat to reach into her pocket and tug out a tightly folded slip of paper. Lori handed it over silently and I stared at it for a brief moment before I began to unfold it. "I don't know what any of it means. Does it make sense?"

I scanned the results of the blood panel quickly, pausing to note that her blood glucose levels were exceptional, and frowned. Shifting around so that I stood beside her, I crouched, sitting on my haunches, and held up the paper for her examination. "Do you see this here?" I pointed to a line of data labeled hCG (miU/ml). "There are cells in the placenta that make human chorionic gonadotropin, hCG. It can be detected within two weeks of conception."

She squinted. "So this is how he knew?"

"Yes. This test is usually performed to confirm pregnancy, especially in abnormal situations. Or to screen for Down's Syndrome." I scanned the numbers again and frowned. "No idea when your last period was?"

"No."

I exhaled. "At the time of this test, your levels put you in seven to eight week range. Which means that you probably got pregnant about three weeks before the world went to shit, unless my math is off." I did more math in my head, decided it had been almost two weeks since the test. "So, about ten weeks along. Morning sickness is pretty common but should taper off soon."

"Ten weeks?" she whispered, voice full of disbelief. "Then that means – a few days before Rick got shot. We had a fight. And…"

I folded the slip of paper into small squares and handed it to her. "And? Are you saying that you and Rick had sex?"

She flushed. "Yeah. But Rick was in a coma for almost a month, and then we were apart for a few weeks. I thought he was gone," she added softly.

"I'm no mathematician, but unless you were sleeping with someone else before your husband was hospitalized, your husband's the father. I see the relief. Now that you know Shane isn't the father, do you plan to keep it?"

Her cheeks darkened and she narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"There are herbs out there that can cause miscarriages if taken promptly. It won't be easy. The fetus is already developing," I explained in a detached manner, as if I didn't have a care in the world. "But-"

"-Why did you mention Shane?" she demanded. I lifted a brow and she looked down at her feet briefly before she met my eyes. "Rick doesn't know."

"Of course he does. He just doesn't want to air it out."

"But-"

"-I'm not going to lie to you about the risks of being pregnant. You have a kid, so you know how scary it can be when you have access to hospitals filled with trained staff. But, women have been giving birth for thousands of years without the assistance of modern medicine. You can do this." Rick jogged up the porch steps and looked back and forth between us for a few short moments before I rose to my full height. "Remember, Lori. The numbers don't lie."

When I walked into the farmhouse with the intention of changing Carl's be linens, I shouldn't have paused in the shadowed corner of the front room to listen to their conversation. But, my curiosity demanded sating, and I leaned against the wall and listened to Lori quietly share the news of the pregnancy with Rick.

"You are?" he asked, delirious. "But, how can you know so quickly? We haven't had many opportunities to-" he trailed off.

"-The blood draw that Dr. Jenner did? Iva said the results tell how long since my last period." I hadn't, but it was an accurate statement. "She says it must have happened before you got shot. Remember that night that Carl stayed over at the Mitchell's and we got drunk on that wine my aunt sent us? It must have been that night."

I smiled to myself. At least it had been a happy memory.

But Rick wasn't to be deterred. I could almost picture him crouching in front of her, his hands clutching hers desperately. "Lori, I don't know what happened, but I know something did. I saw the way you two looked at each other," he whispered raggedly. "I can't be mad or hold it against you. I know that. You thought I was gone. You thought I was dead and he was keeping you safe. But-"

"-I'm too far along, Rick. I've always been faithful to you." Which meant that she'd been pregnant when she'd slept with Shane. Something that only time would prove, assuming she made it full-term. "What happened with Shane – I'll always wish that I could go back in time and take it back. I was scared, we were both looking for comfort."

Rick took several seconds to reply. "Is the baby healthy?"

"I, uh, I think so. There were times right after everything happened that we weren't getting a lot of food and water, but I've never gone entirely without." I mentally reviewed the medications that had been recovered from the pharmacy and sighed with relief. Even without realizing what they were grabbing Maggie and Glenn had retrieved enough prenatal vitamins to last Lori the rest of her pregnancy. "But I'm scared, Rick."

"Iva and Hershel are here though. They can help deliver the baby when the time comes."

"What kind of world is this to bring a child into though?" she demanded in a shrill whisper. "We don't have the means to take care of a baby, Rick. We're constantly one minute away from the risk of attack. Shelter and food and-"

"-We can do this, Lori. This baby, our baby, it deserves a chance. This is our future. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you two safe."

"I know that, Rick. But, we can't ask everyone else to-"

"-We can. We're all a group now, we're family. This baby our baby, is the future. We can do this. Please, Lori. Don't do anything to-"

"-I won't. I'm scared, but I trust you. This is our baby, Rick."

When I heard a soft whisper of skin meeting skin, I quietly scurried into Carl's bedroom and began to strip the linens. Task complete, I tugged fresh sheets into place, put clean pillowcases on the two pillows, and made the bed. I wadded the dirty linens up into a tight ball and carried them out of the room and out onto the back porch, where an ancient scrub tub had been erected for laundry – there was only so much that could be done while the generator was running, after all.

"More?" Carol inquired when I tossed the sheets into a large basket nearby. She was sitting on a low stool and rubbing clothes across the scrub board. Her sleeveless shirt revealed the flex and play in her arms as she worked. "I saw Carl and Sophia race across the backyard. It's so good to see him up and moving."

"Yeah. He's better." I cast a look over my shoulder in the direction of the front of the house and tugged my fingers through my hair. "I'll give you a hand with this."

"No. That's fine."

"Carol-"

"-I really don't mind, Iva. Cooking and cleaning? Those are things that I've done all my life. I'm not half bad at them. There's a whole lot more than you can and do do, so it's fair. I appreciate the offer, but once I'm done with those sheets I'll be finished for the day."

With any luck Rick and Lori would have finished their conversation on the front porch and I could slip by unnoticed. With luck.