When Lori was pregnant with Carl, she was never allowed to go into labor. After he persisted in a breech presentation, the doctor simply scheduled the c-section. She had Braxton Hicks contractions like any normal, healthy pregnancy, but nothing resembling the real thing.

There's simply no comparison of her first round of childbirth to this one.

The sheer intensity of her body trying to bring her daughter into the world is overwhelming. It's not just the pain, because Dr. Stevens won't attempt an epidural and anything else she can do could reach the baby, but the fact that now they're at the end stage. Sixteen hours of labor spiraling right to this moment, where she's on her knees and clinging to Daryl like he's her only port in the storm.

"You got this." His voice is low-pitched, meant only for her ears despite Dr. Stevens being at the foot of the bed. "Just push. Your body knows how to do this."

Lori's only response is a whimper that turns to a deep groan as her body wrenches, the sensation feeling as if she's being simultaneously torn in two and about to explode at the same time. The old Lori would be so damned embarrassed by the sounds she's making. Now, she just wants her baby here safely.

As the pressure feels almost too much to bear, Dr. Stevens makes an excited noise. "We've got rump, Lori. She's on her way."

Panting, Lori braces against Daryl again, glancing up just long enough to see the bright blue of Daryl's eyes as she catches her breath. The urge to push overwhelms her again and she drops her head, rolling it against the bare skin between his collar and neck. After an odd sensation almost like a pop, there's a rush of shifting weight that her mind finally identifies as the bulk of the baby sliding free and into the world.

"I can see her feet, Lori," Daryl says, sounding completely awed. "Ten toes, so fucking tiny."

Dr. Stevens finally moves, and Lori isn't quite sure what she's doing other than hovering. She'd told Lori before the birth that she wouldn't touch the baby at all unless she determined the cord was tangled in some dangerous fashion. There had been some conversation about certain ways to support the baby's body and rotate to ease delivery of the head if necessary.

It isn't, because on the next push, one with nearly as much pressure as the one that brought the baby's bottom into view, everything eases with a sudden rush that makes Lori cry out more than the pain made her do. Then a frisson of alarm shoots through her, because the baby isn't crying at all. Carl hadn't cried, and they'd taken him away to the NICU for a day, and suddenly, Lori is terrified that she's failed somehow to bring her daughter into the world safely.

Before she can begin to hyperventilate, Daryl's moving, hands leaving where he's been rubbing her back. Suddenly, a slimy, squirming baby is pressed against Lori's chest, still wet from birth fluids and blood and supported by Daryl's big, calloused hands.

"Oh." Every bit of fear flees as Lori automatically brings an arm down to cradle the baby to her. There's still no crying, but distinct sounds of the baby breathing reach her ears, and Lori sobs in relief.

"Look at her. Knows her mama like she ought."

Daryl doesn't move away, kneeling patiently where Lori has one arm circling his shoulders, helping her keep the baby safely against her chest. Finally, there's a tentative cry, then a louder wail as if the baby startled herself with the noise. Tiny fingers bloom pink from their initial bluish tinge, and Lori can feel the rapid flutter of newborn heartbeat against her bare skin.

Dr. Stevens is at their side for a minute, speaking softly to Daryl as she checks the newborn as best she can. Before Lori truly absorbs the miracle of her daughter breathing and crying in her arms, the cord is clamped and cut. By the time the birth is truly over, the baby is already nursing, strong and healthy despite being a few weeks early.

It takes everything she has to let Daryl take the baby so she can clean up with Dr. Stevens' help an hour later. She can hear him talking softly the whole time, that same quiet tone he uses with Mittens and any kid in the camp younger than ten.

"Man like that, I'm just surprised he doesn't have a dozen kids of his own," Dr. Stevens remarks, arching a brow and smiling reassuringly at Lori.

"Me too," Lori admits. The sponge bath isn't as good as a shower, but it'll get her clean enough to pass the time before she can take her daughter and Daryl home and shut out the outside world. As she wobbles a bit unsteadily back to the bed they didn't use for the birth, she realizes what Daryl had been up to.

Instead of the absorbent pad and blanket that had been tucked around the baby for the hour after her birth to give her as much skin-to-skin time with Lori as possible, the newborn's skin and hair have been wiped carefully clean and she's wearing a diaper on her tiny little backside. He's just finishing tucking the blanket in a neat swaddle when Lori returns, smiling down at the baby like the most precious treasure in the world.

Accepting her daughter settled against her chest again, Lori smiles up at him. "You telling her all the secrets of the world already?"

"Got started on the most important. Gonna take a few years for the rest." Daryl quirks that little half-smile Lori's way. "You decided if she looks like a Judith or a Hazel?"

Lori thinks of the fact that Carl would have loved this baby more than life itself. "Judith Charlotte."

Although Daryl had deemed Charlotte a heavy load for Judith to carry, being named for the brother who died before she was born, Lori feels like there needs to be something there. Judith is a nice everyday name with a cute story related to Carl, without the constant verbal reminder that there's a gaping hole in Judith's family tree.

"Judy it is. You like that name, Lil Asskicker?" Daryl asks, leaning in to draw a work-roughened finger across Judith's soft, dark hair. Judith doesn't seem to have an opinion, slate blue eyes fluttering closed as she falls asleep, warm at last, belly full, and no longer frightened by the strange new world she's been delivered into.

Daryl doesn't move away, edging himself close enough on the hospital bed to curl against them both. "You should get some sleep while Doc's still monitoring."

"I'm afraid I'll drop her. Or squish her." Old world statistics of the dangers to babies when a caregiver fell asleep dance into her head, but it's a sluggish fear. Weeks of being worried about the birth have worn her out too much to worry much about everything else just yet.

"Nah. You ain't gonna do anything like that, and I'll be right here to make sure you don't."

He's got to be as tired as she is because it's just past noon and he didn't leave her side throughout the entire labor. But she also knows if he says he won't sleep, he won't. As much as she hates why he's hyper-aware, at least it's a skill that pays off in their current world.

She presses a kiss to Judith's dark hair, which has just enough of a wave that she thinks it'll curl in time. Carl had been nearly bald, and at that thought, she's hit with such an overwhelming sense of grief that she can't help sobbing. Daryl doesn't even ask, just tugging her closer and easing Judith into his other arm. Sleep does come eventually, but not before Daryl's shirt is soaked with tears.

Lori is alone in the bed when she wakes, which panics her until she realizes she can hear Daryl nearby. Wriggling to a seated position, she realizes he's at the door to the little infirmary, Judith in his arms, while he talks to Miranda Morales and Dr. Stevens. Miranda looks concerned, but more puzzling is that Daryl is both happy and conflicted.

"What's going on?"

They all three turn when she speaks, but both women look to Daryl to answer. He crosses the room, tucking Judith back in her arms.

"Got some military at the gate, looking for survivors. Miranda recognized a couple of the folks with them and came running."

Come to think of it, Miranda does look flushed in a way that's unusual for her. If the woman ran all the way from the barrier built as a secondary barrier wall, that's damn near a mile.

"Who is it? Is it Merle?" She can't think of any other reason for Daryl to look so damned happy, although imagining Merle with any regimented military is both weird and not. Daryl's told her about his brother's service, after all. World ending probably negates the man once punching a superior hard enough to serve time.

"Yeah." He hesitates, looking back at Miranda. "You absolutely sure on the other man? You didn't know him long."

"It's Rick, Daryl. He's not exactly generic looking, and beard or not, I remember what he looks like." Miranda sounds exasperated.

"Just them?"

Lori knows she should be happy that Rick is alive and healthy enough to be searching for survivors, but guilt crashes into her like a tidal wave. They stopped looking, or rather, she stopped Daryl from looking, once the weather turned seriously to winter. He hadn't seemed to mind, but his faith in Merle is proven if it really is his brother at the gates. And while Miranda might get confused about Rick, who she'd known for all of three days, Merle's unmistakable.

"I didn't get a headcount, but I'd say at least a dozen others, probably close to twenty." Miranda shrugs. "No other familiar faces when I scanned over them. Weird as hell, seeing Rick and Merle getting along, but they seem to have left the past behind them."

Daryl's snort makes Lori wonder how likely that is, but it's not the primary mystery. "We should go out there," she suggests.

"No, you aren't going to traipse all over the camp three hours after giving birth," Dr. Stevens orders sternly. "Your family members can do all the walking."

Judith sighs against Lori's chest and a different kind of panic surges. Lori hasn't had time to even consider how she explains her daughter to Rick. He lost Carl, too, and now here she is, with a child that is not Rick's.

It shouldn't surprise her that Daryl figures out her panic. "I'm gonna go meet up with them. Miranda can stay here with you and Doc, right?"

"Like I'd pass up a chance to be the first one to sneak a peek at that precious baby." Miranda's halfway to the bed before she finishes speaking.

Daryl leans in to press a gentle kiss to Lori's lips, for once not caring about an audience. "It's gonna be alright. I'll make sure of it."

As much as Lori dislikes someone else taking the brunt of the surprise she's dropping into Rick's lap, there's a part of her that is so completely grateful she didn't even have to ask Daryl. He's always been good at letting her stand on her own two feet, but today of all days, she doesn't think she's as capable as she wants to be.

Once he's gone, Dr. Stevens gives Miranda a moment to admire Judith and be introduced before whisking the baby away temporarily to weigh her. She's concerned when she returns, but not enough to alarm Lori. "Five pounds, six ounces. We'll keep an eye on her weight, but it's not underweight for thirty-six weeks. Her Apgar was seven at one minute and nine by five, so she's doing really well."

Miranda nods. "Eliza was smaller when she was born and I was further along. Judy's a strong girl."

Judith is also a hungry girl, because the examination had woken her, and she's grumbling and snuffling. Feeding her at least distracts Lori for half an hour, and after being burped, Judy just watches her with the calmest expression Lori has ever seen on a baby. It's almost enough to make her forget that somewhere nearby, Daryl's breaking the news to Rick of Judy's existence.

Dread fills her when she hears voices outside the door, even more so when Rick is the one who crosses the threshold first. He looks torn between amazed and upset, approaching hesitantly and taking Lori's hand. But she knows he knows the truth about Judith, because he doesn't look at the baby at all. She expects some sort of chastisement, but Rick floors her with something even more shocking.

"Lori, Carl's alive."

Tears threaten along with anger, and Lori jerks her hand away from him, clutching Judith closer as if to protect her from this cruel joke Rick is proposing. The baby squalls at the unexpected movement, finally drawing Rick's attention.

"Why would you say something that cruel, Rick? I saw the bloody clothes." Her face is wet now, and she wants to get as far away as she can, but she's trapped by the bed.

Rick gapes, looking back toward Daryl, who moves so fast to the bedside that Lori at least feels like she's not alone. Daryl will put a stop to this, she knows. It's proven true when Daryl roughly orders Rick to back the fuck off before sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Let me take Judy. She's scared."

As much as she hates to let go of the baby, she knows Daryl's right, so she lets him ease Judith into his arms and rock her to settle her back down. Knowing that hormones are part of her surging emotions doesn't help settle them. Carl's been at the forefront of her thoughts since Judy was born, and now her mind is screaming with the impossibility.

"He's not lying, Lori," Daryl says softly, wrapping one hand around both of hers. "Look at me."

Blinking away tears and hiccuping with the effort to stop crying, she focuses on Daryl's intense expression.

"Merle says it's true, too. All the kids made it. Carl and Sophia and Beth. Walsh kept them safe."

When Merle clears his throat, it jerks Lori's attention to him, and the burly man nods. "I swear on my baby brother's life. Your boy is alive and well and missing his mama."

"He's alive? My baby boy is alive?" How do these miracles keep happening to Lori? Rick returned from the dead, Judy survived despite limited medical care, and now Carl is alive? It's more than she's ever deserved.

"Yeah, Lori, Carl's alive. I swear to God, I had breakfast with him yesterday morning before we went out to search again." Rick doesn't approach the bed, looking warier than he ever has of Lori being emotional.

Relief dries her tears as she tries to leave the bed, an urgent need to be wherever Carl is seizing her. "Where is he?"

It's Daryl who answers, giving her a lopsided smile over Judy's dark hair. "Your boy's got himself a beach in Florida, Lori. Just imagine that. Merle says he can get you to Carl by bedtime."

Somehow, Lori can picture it like she's on the beach herself. If miracles exist to keep her son alive, then having him safe on a beach like he dreamed of as a small child seems like a perfect setting for a miracle. She can almost smell the sea air, reinforced by the memory of those days she and Daryl spent in Florida before traveling west to look for medical care.

A smile blooms on her face. All her sorrow that Carl would never know his sister, and tonight, he'll meet Judith. Nothing else matters in the face of that.


A/N: There eventually will be more to Daryl/Lori, but these two are making a career of slow burn. No missed scenes, I promise. Poor Beta was expecting something entirely different than a graphic birth scene after last chapter, though. :)

For those needing a date reference, the current date is January 28, 2011 for Judy's birth. If you've read RBM, you'll know the significance of the date (although Swim and Walk also reference it at least once).