A/N: I'm getting really bad about updating. I am so sorry. I've been busy with work and with my health issues, and I've been outlining. It's just getting it down into actual story. I worked my butt off to post this, because today is my five year anniversary on this site, and I am so impressed by how far I've come. I want to thank you guys, too, of course. You've given me ideas to use in my stories and insight I hadn't even thought of. You're all really awesome, and I know it was a rough start with this story, but thank you. I'm glad to have spent five years writing here for you to read.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

– – –

They sat in the living room of Rick's house, Judith and Enid were playing with blocks on the floor, the child called Ellie was with them, and Rick couldn't help but smile inside at how precious she and Judith were together. It was the first time either of them had been around another toddler, and it made his heart melt. He couldn't let that show right now, as he had official business to attend to, thanks to a late conversation with Daryl and Morgan and Michonne. He would join the girls in a bit.

Michonne entered the room, strolling over to Rick with a nod, and Rick approached Neva, who was nervously sitting on the couch.

"I'd like to you ask you some things," he spoke.

"Okay." She rested her hands in her lap. "What kind of things?"

"How many walkers have you killed?"

She pursed her lips. "How many walkers...? Uhh...I dunno. It's not a lot. Fin kept me out of the fighting, because I was their only doctor, so I didn't...uh, get around to killing walk—walkers." She cleared her throat.

"How many people have you killed?"

"People?" She exhaled and closed her eyes. Hundreds likely, but that was her guilt speaking. At her own hand, well, that was a smaller number yet still too big for her heart. "Four." There was no hesitation.

"Why?" That came from Michonne, who had moved closer to Rick.

"Um, well...the first three were extremely sick. They had eaten some mushrooms that...weren't meant to be eaten, and I couldn't risk my daughter. I killed them. I'm not sure it counts, because they weren't breathing, not...not really." She exhaled again. "And there was one out of mercy."

"Mercy?" Rick cocked his head to the side.

"One young man... One boy was chosen by Pentaghast about two or three months after Ellie was born. He was about...thirteen. He was so young and so...scared. There was no way I could get him out. He was under watch, constantly being...poked and prodded by Pentaghast, being tortured, and I couldn't bear it anymore. I...overdosed him. It was the only way I could save him." She lowered her eyes. If that even counted as saving him...

Rick looked over at Morgan, who gave a nod, and Rick set his hands on the butt of his gun that rested in its holster at his hip. "All right then... How would you like to join us?"

"Join you?" Her brows shot up. "You mean...live here? With all of you?"

"We could always use another doctor," Michonne remarked. "And we can't ask you to leave with a child as young as Ellie. She needs food and a safe place to grow. We know what it's like to be on the road with an infant. You won't survive."

"So, you're offering this to me for her?"

"And for savin' Abe and lettin' the others go," Rick added.

She looked at Ellie who was playing with the young girls named Enid and Judith. "What if she stays and I go?"

"You'd leave your granddaughter?" Michonne eyed her. "Just like that?"

"No, but I don't know how I can live out my life in the town where my daughter was killed." She swallowed. "I'm grateful, don't get me wrong. I just...don't know if I can handle it. For Ellie, yes. A million times yes, she needs a home and food and safety. But...give me time on what I can handle, please."

"You have the day," Rick told her. "Michonne and I will be running patrols of the town, and Maggie and Glenn are at home. They'll be in the office till dark. Morgan will be on the wall. Come to any of us."

"Thank you." She rose. "I'll get some air and think on it."

Rick cut a look to Michonne once Neva was gone, and Michonne returned it with an unspoken answer. They would have Francine follow her just in case. They trusted her to do right by the child, but they didn't trust that Pentaghast didn't have some insane backup plan. Grief did twisted things to people, and this woman already admitted to killing a child out of mercy. She might try and do that here. Grief an false hope did...unspeakable things to people sometimes, so it was better safe than sorry.

– – –

"Look who I found." Enid came into the office with the puppy in her arms, Maggie smiled widely at the sight of the puppy, and Glenn was a little curious. "Morgan swiped her when she wandered out of the gates. Pentaghast's men had left it open when they invaded, and he found her."

"Aww, how lucky." Maggie rose out of her chair and scooped the puppy up, kissing her head.

"That sounds like a good name." Glenn pointed out, swiveling his chair towards them. "And fitting."

"It really is, actually." Enid stroked her back.

"Lucky Rhee," Maggie teased. "Yeah, fitting."

"She doesn't have to have my last name." Glenn stood up. "She can be a Greene."

"Lucky Greene sounds like a cigarette brand." Maggie handed the puppy over to her husband. "Rhee is fine."

Glenn accepted her and got his face attacked by her tongue. "Ahh, stop."

Maggie chuckled and wrapped an arm around Enid's shoulders. "She loves you, Dad."

"I did not ask for this." He held her away only to have her whine and look at him with big eyes. "You are so not fair." He pulled her back.

"I think she's pretty fair." Maggie put her hand on her hip and smiled.

"And since she's so taken with you, I'll change Maggie's bandages." Enid picked up the first aid kit. "And you oughta be around if Nevaeh comes by."

"Yeah, Nevaeh." He set Lucky down on the couch and wiped his chin off with his sleeve. "I'm not sure how to feel about it."

"You were with her most." Maggie crossed her arms loosely. "Daryl approves. Aaron is okay with it, but he's mostly been at home with Eric. Abe is still drugged up to keep him from screaming in pain, so he doesn't really have a response."

"She was all right. She was kind to us, but...kind only goes so far. After all that happened to you and to Enid, I just don't trust anybody in that group. I know I should give her a chance. She did help us, but knowing she let this happen in other places doesn't sit well with me. I'm all for keeping Ellie. She's just a baby. She can be brought up to be better than her blood, but I don't know what to think of Neva. I can't help but...feel if she'd acted sooner, you two wouldn't have been hurt."

"We were all hurt," Enid said. "We were starved and sleep deprived and treated worse than prisoners. I get that you don't trust Neva yet, but...I didn't trust any of you when you first came here. I've learned since then, and I know locking everyone away and keeping this place just ours sounds awesome. We'd be so safe, but...we'd be so alone, too. We'd cut off opportunities to grow. We won't improve as people or as a community without trusting others, like the Hilltop and Jesus. We'll meet bad seeds, people who only want to use us or kill us, but we're prepared. We're strong and smart. We've got this. We can handle it."

Glenn smiled softly at her then walked over and hugged her. "All right, fine."

"You taught me to not give up on people and on this place," Enid whispered against his chest, "so you can't give up either."

"Trust doesn't come easy, but...I'll try." He smoothed her hair down and stepped back, grasping his wife's hand and squeezing tightly. "I'll finish up the expansion plan and keep an eye out for Nevaeh."

"We'll be back shortly." Maggie kissed him and cupped his cheek before following Enid upstairs. She doubted Neva wanted to be greeted by the young doctor cleaning up a pretty nasty gash. It might make her turn tail in guilt.

Glenn put his hands on his hips, looking back at Lucky who waggled her tail at him, and he pursed his lips, rubbing the back of his neck. He believed in people. He believed in doing the right thing, because it was who they were, but honestly he'd been worn down. He and Maggie and Enid were toys to these people, and they were almost abused in a way that would leave such a scar. Enid was too young for that, and he couldn't bear for her to have endured that. He would have...slaughtered that asshole had Flissa not. He couldn't let him live, and the mere rage that brimmed up inside of him at that thought scared him. He'd never considered taking a life so easily.

He sat down on the couch, Lucky jumping into his lap, and he closed his eyes. Taking a life meant more than simply killing them. It would take part of him with it. No matter how foul that life was, he'd still take it. Him. He didn't want the action to change him, but he knew it would. Of course it would. He wasn't looking to be like Morgan by any means, but...it just wasn't him. The killer. That was Rick and Daryl and Maggie even. They could kill and still be themselves, but...and maybe he didn't have the stomach for it, but it just wasn't him. So to feel this rage still inside of him, this need for blood, this need to make somebody—anybody—who knew that fucker pay, unnerved him to his core. He wanted to be better than this, but he was human. He wasn't able to pick and choose his reactions, to pick and choose his recovery, even. He'd have to take it one day at a time. Maybe talk to Denise about it. Maybe Maggie, too.

He scratched behind Lucky's ear. One day at a time. That was all he could do. There was no promise for tomorrow, as the last few days had proven, so he'd take it in stride.

Upstairs Enid moistened a new cloth with warm water to wash away the small brownish bubbles of bacteria the peroxide had brought to the surface. She'd been practicing cleaning wounds on those injured, so she made quick work of it. She still suspected Maggie needed stitches, but she said it'd be fine. She would just disinfect it and wrap it up tightly so nothing got into make it worse. It was all she could do without begging Maggie to let Denise stitch the wound.

Maggie sat on the edge of the tub with her shirt rolled up and in only her panties with a towel over her thighs to keep her dry and to catch any blood or liquid that slipped free during the cleaning process. She gripped the tub as Enid dabbed on ointment. It stung slightly, but it was a fresh wound, and it was still trying to close itself. She didn't help anything when she tackled Glenn to the ground the day they were freed.

"Oof." Maggie exhaled.

"Sorry." Enid finished and wiped her fingers off, picking up gauze from beside her.

"Nah, it's all right. Cuts sting." She met Enid's eyes. "You're getting better at it, though. I saw you in the clinic that night. You busted ass. Considerin'."

Enid chuckled softly. "I've been shot before. It was nothing."

"You were reckless."

"Look who's talking." She applied the gauzed and reached for the medical tape. "It was just a graze anyhow."

"That doesn't mean it couldn't still hurt you later on."

She nodded. "I know. I just...had to help. I could do something other than kill for you all, and I wanted to. Denise needed the aid. Neva was distraught, and the kids needed Denise's attention, so I had to pick up her slack."

"You did well, but you need to let people help you, too."

"I know." She bit off two strips of tape and secured the gauze. "I'm trying."

"Have you tried talking to Carl yet?" Maggie inquired.

"No." She swallowed with difficulty and ripped off another sliver of tape. "He didn't want to see me, and I didn't want to see him."

"Why not? I thought you two..."

"Sorta." She finished with Maggie and stood up, heeding her own injury. "We both went through a lot. I don't want to rush him into seeing me. I'm not ready to see him. He tries to play my hero, and if he sees me like this... I just don't want to deal with his anger. I already have my own and yours and Glenn's."

"I'm not angry."

"Yeah, right."

"I'm not. He's dead and gone, and you're all right. I've moved on. I have this town to think of. And healin'."

"Glenn shouldn't be angry," Enid blurted. "It had nothing to do with him. It was me and that asshole. I fought him off till Flissa ripped him off of me. I just got smacked around. It'll heal."

"Glenn cares more about the people he loves than himself," Maggie informed her. "He...doesn't know how to channel this anger just yet, but he will, and so will you." She stood up. "It takes time, Enid. He loves you so much, as much as I do, and...we're a family. We protect each other, and we feel like we failed to protect you."

"I can do that myself."

"Yes, but we can help," Maggie shot back. "We weren't able to. He wasn't able to. He fought his battle, but he couldn't help you with yours. He'll make peace with being there after. After is just as important as in the moment, and he's learned from...past afters."

Enid sensed a story, but didn't press. "I'm not used to having someone...feel they're to blame for my injuries is all. My parents...haven't been with me for a long time, and nobody cared enough until you all. It's all...skin deep. Even with Olivia. Kind as she is...I was just a kid she put under her wing, nothing more."

"She loves you, Enid." She lifted the young girl's chin. "We all love you, and we'll get used to what that means. We've never had...someone like you in our lives, and we're grateful, because you...bring us so much happiness. You're a missin' piece we didn't know needed filled. Don't forget that."

"I won't." She smiled a little.

She nodded. "Okay then. Sit. It's your turn to be disinfected." She slashed warm water on her face, and Enid squealed at the sudden wetness thrown on her. Maggie laughed lightly.

"Real mature," she flicked water on Maggie, "Mags."

"You're laughin', aren't you?" She wiped her cheek off. "C'mon, I won't do it again. And we should get down there to meet Neva should she come."

Enid jumped onto the counter, Maggie scolded her, and Enid rolled her shirt up, trying not to also roll her eyes. They were changing the bandage anyway, but Maggie was right. It needed to heal, not be torn open every other second. She'd be more careful, especially as the young doctor of the group. She had a lot more to learn, but apparently they all did.

– – –

Daryl carried two empty bowls downstairs to the kitchen. He rinsed them out and softly sighed, dreading the conversation that was about to unfold. It'd been hours since Pentaghast and her men had been killed and taken out of Alexandria, since Spencer brought over a heaping pot of venison stew, since Carol had woken from her rest at the scent of that stew. He wanted to rest more, but it had been...a day? Two days? He'd lost track from sleeping and relaxing in bed with Carol. They'd had so much stew and no conversation really. It...was nice, but what was about to come wouldn't be nice.

He filled a glass with water and chugged it, putting it down on the counter with more force than he needed.

"Must have been a good drink."

He spun around to find Carol standing there. "I was about to come up..."

"I know. I just didn't want to talk up there. And I was worried you might run." It was meant to be a joke, but Daryl had considered running off to help Rick or Abe.

"I just...don't know what to say."

"You can tell me anything, Daryl. You know that, right?" She met his eyes. "Right?"

"Yeah, I know that, but for all I remembered nothin' happened!"

"But something could have. You could have told me, remembering what happened or not. It's something that obviously affected you, and that's what's important." She stepped towards him. "So why didn't you tell me?"

"I just told you why I didn't."

"That's not the whole story."

"What good would tellin' you have done?" he demanded. "You couldn't make it better if she had. You couldn't make the memories come back if she didn't. You weren't even there. There was nothing you coulda done or said then or now. It doesn't matter."

"Obviously it does, or you wouldn't be yelling at me."

"I ain't yellin'."

"Yes, you are. Even our son can tell you're yelling."

He scoffed and turned his back to her. He felt her boring holes into his back, but he couldn't get the words to come out. He didn't want the words to come out. He didn't want to remember it. It felt too much like his past. He didn't want to reopen old wounds. They weren't even fucking healed wounds. There was little to reopen, he'd only gash it more, and it might consume him whole. He couldn't... He simply couldn't do it.

"Okay." Carol walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. "The importance of telling me what might have happened is this." She inhaled, and he clenched his jaw. "Let's say we're in our bedroom, the ground is covered in snow, and we're staying in. One thing leads to another, and we're having sex, and all of sudden you remember things. Bits of it float in from your subconscious, and you have a panic attack. I wouldn't know what to do, because touching you might make it worse. It might invite more unwanted memories in. I couldn't soothe you, and...it'd break my heart, Daryl. Seeing you in that state...it'd kill me."

"Thanks for the guilt trip."

"It'd kill you too, because you wouldn't be able to talk about it," she added. "And it'd kill you if that little bitch was infected."

He turned his head slightly to look at her, frowning. They were all infected.

"A sexually transmitted disease, Daryl. If she was infected—which wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility given her history and her...choices—and she had...raped you in hopes of getting pregnant then you'd be infected. And if we had sex, unprotected sex, it would infect the baby, Daryl. It might...really hurt him, or worse. Not to mention what it'd do to me."

He couldn't swallow. He hadn't thought about that. It was ironic too. Merle had STDs what seemed like every other week, so he was used to all that shit, but he'd forgotten. Merle wasn't here. He had nothing to worry about, because he wasn't with anybody, and it slipped his mind. It slipped his mind, and it could have caused complications for Carol and his son. Could it have killed his son? Changed his son into... Fuck.

"It would have left us all hurting, and in the end, you'd be suffering the most, because you'd blame yourself. You didn't tell me. We weren't careful. It happened how it happened. That'd be it." She reached out and set her hand over his on the counter. "But it didn't. We didn't. She didn't. It's not over, but it didn't happen."

"If it didn't happen, how is it not over?"

"She drugged you, held you against your will and tried to assault you," she stated. "That kind of powerlessness, that kind of rage, does a lot of damage on its own. It's clear to see it's affecting you." She reached up and touched his cropped hairs. "She tried to break you, Daryl. You can't say that left you unscathed."

He studied the countertop hard.

She moved closer, her belly pressed against his arm now, and he felt his son shift underneath. "If you don't want to talk about her attempt then let me talk about mine." He looked at her the moment those words left her lips, and her grip tightened on his wrist. "Sophia was probably two weeks old. I was recovering from giving birth, and I was exhausted from taking care of her pretty much all by myself. I wasn't in the mood for any physical contact, just a shower and some sleep.

"That wasn't good enough for Ed. He went off on me, about how it was my job as his—not his wife, not someone he loved, just his. Just property." She didn't meet Daryl's eyes as she spoke. "I didn't want to fight, so I turned around to go upstairs, and he shoved me against the steps. It knocked the wind out of me, I couldn't believe he'd done it, and in my surprise, he undid his pants, ripped mine off and had his way with me right there on the steps. I couldn't move from his body being on mine and the steps being right there. I couldn't do anything but dig my nails into the shag rug and cry, hoping he'd...finish soon."

Daryl's stomach dropped, and he didn't like the hollowness in her eyes.

"When he did finish, he got a beer and went back to watching TV. I stayed there for...an hour? Half? I honestly couldn't tell you, but when I finally was able to move, I took a shower. I kept trying to reason it out in my head, kept trying to make sense of it—make it okay—but it wasn't okay. He had no right to do that to me. I was his wife, but I wasn't his property. I said no, but he took it anyway." There wasn't a single tear in her eyes. "And when I got ready to shower, I found I was covered in bruises—the first of many more—and there was blood in my panties..."

"Stop," Daryl pleaded softly, a whisper of the word. He couldn't take it—her voice, her eyes, the images in his mind. He couldn't take it.

"I couldn't get the blood stain off, so I threw them away. I wish...it'd been so easy to deal with the stains on the steps."

"Carol," he urged in a louder voice, "stop."

"I got used to it. I shouldn't have, but I did. I tried to find some pleasure in it at first, but all I could think about that night on the steps, that fight, his hot breath by my ear, the bruises on my hips and my wrists...how much it hurt." Her eyes widened. "I gave up on trying to please myself and started trying to please him so he'd stay calm. So his temper would stay calm. It didn't always work, but I had to try. It was all I could do—"

He whirled around, grasping her shoulders and locking his eyes in hers. "Stop." One word spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes were tearful and pleading, and his hands shook on her shoulders. "Stop."

"The memories never stop," she replied. "I still have nightmares about those days. It comes back to me now and then, and...I can't forget it. I want to. I've tried to burn away that woman, but I can't. Don't you get my point? The past will always be there, but it doesn't have to have power. By ignoring it like you are, you're giving it power. You need to talk about it or find some way to...get those thoughts and feelings out."

"She didn't do anythin' to me."

"But someone did," Carol remarked, setting a hand on his shoulder, tears rising in her eyes. "Someone did hurt you. I remember the scars, Daryl. I've tended to your wounds many times. I know it's eating at you. You've come so far, but do you know that? Do you truly know that?"

He dropped his eyes.

"Talk to me." She pressed her hand into his shoulder. "Pleas—"

He cut her off by kissing her, by forcing her pleas and her statements back into her mouth, and he felt her tears break free from her eyes as they met his cheeks. He could taste her broken heart, and it was the final straw. He broke away from her and flung himself against the cabinets on the floor, pulling his legs up and gripping the short strands of his hair, his eyes welling up.

"Daryl?"

"I can't," he ground out, his face twisting, the light tan of his skin reddening as he struggled to breathe. "I just can't."

"You picked up that book from the shelter. You want to."

He dropped his eyes, inhaling through his mouth to dry the sticky moisture there, his eyes burning as Carol's figure began to blur, and he shook his head. He sputtered something out neither one could quite understand, and he ducked his head down as tears began to flow from those gaping wounds.

"This isn't a battle you have to fight alone." She lowered herself down beside him, knowing getting back up would be a challenge, especially since getting down wasn't a pretty picture. "You don't get very far by going alone. You said that once, not those words, but the same meaning."

He rocked himself side to side once, and he tossed his head back, exhaling sharply, his chest a weave of sorrow and truth. He choked on the inhale, coughing, and Carol tried to ask if he was all right, but he flung himself on her before she could get the words out. He minded the baby, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, the other across her belly to her hip, and he buried his face in her neck. He sobbed so deeply, his entire body quivering, and he stopped holding back.

Carol stroked his hair. Tears were a good sign. They were a first step. She thought he might pick anger, break a few lamps and pant heavily as he screamed out what happened to him as a child, but no. No, the sorrow and confusion chose this path for him. She was happy. It'd finally taken a form, and it'd taken control. He couldn't ignore it, and it was time to air out those feelings, to rip off those drapes of doubt and toss out pictures of pain. She was happy, because they could do that together, and because he'd made the choice himself. He'd made it that day he'd picked up the recovery book, and he was finally ready to start.

––

Rick patrolled the street that night with Michonne. They'd just checked in on Neva, who was staring at the lake in the snow, and Rick thought she might jump, but she didn't move one inch. She just stared, lost in her thoughts. Morgan was watching her from the shed he and Abe had built near by, and Michonne urged Rick to let Morgan handle it.

They patrolled on, Michonne linked her fingers through his, and he glanced from their linked hands to her face, gingerly squeezing them. It was the first real moment they'd had alone. They had been going since Pentaghast and her men had been killed, and the fatigue was settling in. Morgan had rested, hence Michonne pushing Rick to let him handle her. He was more...able than they were at the moment. Should danger arise, they would be on it, but a woman who might take her life? They would be slow to the draw, so it was better Morgan than them.

"What do you say we finish this last part up, turn it over to Francine and Eugene and get some rest?" Michonne suggested.

"I'd say hell yes." He kissed her forehead and stepped up his pace, making her laugh.

"I can't wait to fall into bed." She sighed. "It's been too long."

"We'll have to move Ellie in with Judith," he commented, "to keep an eye on her with the monitor."

"Actually, Eric came by and took her around two." Michonne fell into step with his quick stride. "I haven't seen her since."

"Why did he take her?"

"I don't know. He just told Judy he was taking her playmate for bit, but she'd see her in the morning." She peered at him. "I saw him talking to Neva earlier, so she might have asked him to take her."

He shook his head. "If she's in that place, I don't know if there's anythin' we can do to stop her."

"There's not. You either have the will to live, or you don't. Or you figure out a reason to stay. If Ellie isn't enough...I don't know what would be."

He inhaled the cold winter air. "How's Abraham doing?"

"He's still out of it, but Sasha tells me his heart is strong. His blood pressure is good, according to Denise, and he's recuperating. He just needs time."

"That's good."

"It is. It's really good how much damage Pentaghast and her people did that we can reverse. The babies are all healthy and happy, and people are regaining their strength. We have more food from them hunting, and we have more weapons. We might even acquire a doctor." She shrugged a shoulder. "It's a big win for us."

"That it is." He released her hand and slid his arm around her waist. "I'm glad the boy's all right."

"I know. I was worried about him as well." Michonne tucked her free hand into her jacket pocket. "It mostly worked out. I just...can't get Carol's face out of my head when Neva told us the sex. She didn't look happy. She looked...shaken."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. It wasn't like, "Oh, darn, I wanted a girl". It looked like more than that. I wonder what caused her to make that expression."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Do you really think she'll tell me?"

"Girl talk," was all he said.

Her brows rose, her lips pursed, and she snickered. "You did not just say that."

"What? She used to talk to you all the time."

"Yeah, about a lifetime ago."

"She'll talk to you again, if you just...prompted her."

"I can always try." She wrapped her arm around his back. "After we sleep and check on Carl."

"He hasn't left his room since we cleared the road." Rick rubbed her side with this thumb. "He's kept Judith with him most of the day, too."

"We should talk to him."

Rick shook his head. "No, I should talk to him. You have a lot to say to him, I know, but...there're some things I need to tell him. You can talk to him after."

She smiled. "Okay, but only because someone has to start breakfast. I can't eat another bowl of stew. It's good, but after nearly three bowls, I can't even look at it."

He chuckled. "I'll stop by the pantry in the morning."

––

"Are you considerin' it?" Morgan approached the small woman who was holding the wooden rail to the fence surrounding the pond.

"Jumping onto the ice until it breaks and drowning, or considering staying in the town where I lost the love of my life?" She turned to him.

"Both, I suppose." He set his hands on the railing.

"I don't know. I can't stop thinking about my daughter. She really was the love of my life, you know. Everything she taught me, everything she gave me...was just...the whole reason I was born, I'm sure. She was my heart. I feel...nothing, not the cold, not the guilt, not the anger. I'm just tired."

"I know the feelin'."

"Do you?"

"I lost my wife and my son," he told her. "First my wife, and I tried to stop her. I tried to kill her after, but I couldn't. I couldn't and because of that I lost my son."

"I'm sorry."

"It was my own fault. I should have taken that shot. I should have...done so many other things than what I did, but it's in the past. He's gone. She's gone. I'm still here, and I don't fully understand why. I just know that I'm here, and I'm doin' what I can to...truly grasp that."

"What is life after the loss of a child?" She shrugged her shoulders. "Is there a point to even trying?"

"There is."

"Says you."

"And Carol," he add. "Abraham, Michonne, Maggie and Glenn."

"I don't know how they go on. I don't even want to survive beyond this moment."

"Not even for the baby?"

"She's...not my grandchild," she confessed. "She's Pentaghast's child."

Morgan didn't see phased.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I saw her with the child," he confirmed. "And she doesn't favor you at all. They didn't see your daughter, so they'll assume she favors her or father. They won't press."

She rubbed her neck and chuckled once, not a trace of humor in the dry sound. "I just don't care. I want her to be alive. I do want that, but caring about it? It's...impossible. It's all like a bad dream, and I can't feel anything, and I just want to wake up. I want to open my eyes and be with my daughter." Tears sloshed down her cheeks, one after another, seeming to know no end. "I don't want this to be real. This can't be my reality."

"Yet it is. It's bitter and no one you expect, certainly not one you could ever want, but it is your life now. You have to decide what to do with it."

She shook her head and let it drop into her hands. "How can I decide anything?"

"You mourn," he answered, "and then you decide."

– – –

It was morning when Daryl opened his eyes to find the most important woman in his life asleep in front of him. The warm light seeped in through the parted curtains, Carol was breathing gently, and he felt like he'd actually rested too. He couldn't help but feel refreshed. He wasn't...thrilled, wasn't elated, wasn't ready to bounce up and down with joy, but...there was a wall gone. The hidden part of him was naked and revealed now, and it felt...paralyzing and nice. Life and air flowed through that once empty space, and he felt renewed. It was a start he'd meant to begin months ago, but better late than never.

He reached out and caressed Carol's stomach, smiling her hand moved to his in her sleep, and he scooted closer, burying his face in her hair and kissing the top of her head. She murmured something incoherently and drifted deeper into sleep, and he closed his eyes, smiling widely. Yeah, better late than never.