Lori wakes slowly, listening to the slow drawl of Daryl's voice as he talks to Judith. Cracking one eye open, she sees that the baby is where she usually is when she sleeps in their room: tucked in the cradle of Daryl's arm. Judith is enraptured and intent, even cooing whenever Daryl pauses. Grinning, she watches them until Daryl's eyes flick her way and narrow.
It's not the actual suspicion he would have leveled at someone he caught watching him once upon a time, but a half-quirked smile barely hidden behind the mock glare.
"We are trying to have a conversation here. No eavesdroppers allowed."
"I'll just go back to sleep then."
That gets Judith's attention, and she wriggles, trying to find her mama. Daryl laughs and rolls the baby to her belly between them. Judith's tiny head bobs as she babbles at Lori.
"Good morning to you, too, sweetheart. Did your Da wake you or the other way around?"
She's never been entirely certain who wakes first, although the idea of Daryl actively waking Judith is whimsical. The reality is that Daryl probably wakes with the impending dawn and just lies there content to listen to their sleepy breathing. Glancing up at him, she catches the bemused affection on his face and directs her smile at him.
"Didn't want to wake you," he admits softly. "But she fusses if I don't talk to her. You okay?"
"Perfect," Lori tells him, and she means it. Reaching out, she runs a hand across Judith's soft curls before letting her hand drift to run along Daryl's arm, too. He shivers and makes that contented sound she calls a purr when she wants to rile him up.
"Good," Daryl murmurs. He covers her hand with his even as he leans in to nibble playfully at Judith's fingers to make the baby giggle. "Time for this little lady to have her breakfast so Carl can finish whatever kidnapping plot he's up to outside the door."
Lori raises up to one elbow, and sure enough, there's Carl waiting and grinning in the open doorway. "You tried sneaking up on Daryl of all people?"
Carl just laughs, crossing the room to climb over the footboard and sit crosslegged at the end of the bed. "Nah. Knew he'd catch me. Didn't think he'd rat me out before I did the snatch and grab, though. Traitor."
Daryl retaliates with a mock insult, and they descend into a happy squabble Lori is more than happy to pretend to roll her eyes at. Carl's growing relationship with Daryl is yet another delight to Lori's new life. Their mutual admiration and adoration of Judith gives them common ground well beyond the usual blended family, and Lori can't be more grateful.
Perfect really does describe how she feels right now.
"C'mon, Maggie! The water's so nice when it's hot like this!"
It will never stop being a joy to hear Beth's voice, especially when she's cheerful, healthy, and alive. Spending months thinking her sister was dead was the worst experience of Maggie's life, far worse than losing either of her mothers or Shawn. They'd all had a chance to experience life, compared to Beth's short years.
How Hershel endured it, Maggie will never understand, other than she suspects that he assumed, rightly, that Beth was safe somewhere just waiting to be found. He's always been more of an optimist, sometimes erroneously so, than anyone Maggie's ever known.
"Maggie!"
Beth is exasperated now, which makes Maggie laugh and shed the oversized t-shirt she wore over her bathing suit as she stands. Dropping it on the blanket she and Glenn were sitting on, she grins down at him.
"Gonna join us, Glenn?"
It takes him a minute to respond, gaze too intent on all that her bikini reveals. Nudging him with her foot, he laughs sheepishly. "Yeah, sure."
When he holds up a hand for her to help him up, she realizes Beth's reappearance isn't the only gift that's come her way. Glenn always looks at her like she's his every dream personified. It makes her a little ashamed, sometimes, because her initial assessment of him had been someone cute her own age to relieve some stress with. But the second things went really wrong, he had her back like no one ever has. Like Hershel, Glenn believes in miracles.
Standing here on a sunny beach in north Florida, watching Beth splash in the early summer shallows alongside her best friend and boyfriend? That makes Maggie think she should share both their faith in miracles.
She stares at him a little too long, making Glenn squirm just a little, although he doesn't let go of her hand.
"I love you. You know that, right?"
Her confession surprises her, as she's been completely stingy holding back the words she's known were true for months now. As confident as she is that he shares the sentiment, the butterflies in her stomach don't agree, not yet. Not until he reacts.
The happy shouts of the kids fades, and out of the corner of her eye, Maggie can see that Beth is watching them intently, grinning so widely it ought to hurt. Beth's always been perceptive about the emotions of everyone around. It should be embarrassing that her baby sister is present for this, but instead, it just seems right.
Glenn's stunned look fades into a smile that rivals Beth's for its joy. "I do. Of course I do."
"You're supposed to say it back!" Beth shouts, giggling.
Maggie drags Glenn in for a kiss instead, made light and sweet by the fact that he's still smiling and their now cheering teenage audience. He blinks a little when she pulls away, so she steals another little kiss before letting him go to turn towards the water.
"I love you, too," Glenn calls out, making Maggie turn and flash him an impish grin.
"I know."
She hadn't needed the words to know, because Glenn's love is evident in everything he does for her, for Beth, for her entire family. Sometimes it feels so overwhelming, to have someone love her as much as he does, to have all of these blessings in her life, but days like today?
Everyone should have this much love, to just soak it in like the sun.
Andrea finishes reassembling her gun, feeling the satisfaction of everything fitting back together. The banana scent of the gun oil is part of the soothing routine, giving her a feeling of control over what little she can do with things as they are now. She's always been this way, needing something to focus on when others would prefer to relax with a glass of wine or bottle of beer.
"Person would never believe you never touched a gun until a year ago."
Merle's rolling drawl still makes her flinch, just a little, in the back of her mind. As ballsy as she was when he threw all those insults at her, they still took up residence with every other slur that she just didn't measure up as a woman. But she doesn't let it show, finishing packing away the cleaning kit before she looks up.
"Not all of us had the training for this world from birth."
It's his turn to flinch, and he doesn't bother to hide it. A spark of guilt flickers within her, because she's friends with Daryl, and she knows the price the brothers paid for the skills they have today. She and Merle have stayed out of each other's orbits since her group came in. Apparently that grace period has finally come to an end, and she's honestly curious as to why.
He settles into the empty chair across from her at the work table, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his prosthetic out of sight behind a bicep. Eyeing the rest of the guns settled in the rack behind her, he seems curious, not ornery, at least. She couldn't sleep, waking before dawn, and she knew there's always a backlog of repairs and cleaning to be done in the armory.
"You're damn good at this for someone without military or police training. Ever thought about taking it on as your official job here?"
It isn't what she expected him to say, but the offer is intriguing. "That mean I have to sit behind that desk up front and issue weaponry all day?"
"Hell no. You'd wilt away as fast as I would, stuck indoors all day." He twists in his chair, motioning to the vast inventory they've been collecting. "Inventory would be a big part of it, but we need people who can create and assemble, not just collect and notate. Found ammo won't last forever, same for the weapons themselves."
"You want me to learn to load ammo?" Andrea's seen the supplies in one of the back rooms, and the plan is logical. "Do you know how?"
"That part, yeah. The gunsmithing, not so much. But there's an oldtimer they brought in last month that knows enough to get you started on that side of things."
All her knowledge of law is only nominally useful here, but this? This is something that will last. She thinks of the contented feeling working here this morning gave her, probably the most serene she's been since Amy died. So she nods, meeting his gaze evenly. Somehow, she thinks this is his way of apologizing.
"Alright. I'll introduce the two of you and then you can set up requisitions for whatever we need to set up that smithy."
"And the ammo loading?"
Merle chuckles as he stands. "Got a shed we're assembling on the far edge of the peninsula. Definitely don't want to start that project in the armory. Not up for going out in a blaze of glory just yet if we measure something wrong."
Despite her lingering discomfort around Merle, Andrea finds herself laughing. It feels good, like she's coming out of the darkness of losing Amy at last, and for the first time, she considers that the man before her is an older sibling himself. Once the thought that he'd understand any of her pain was foreign, but now?
Maybe they're going to be good friends.
Daryl strides through the marshes, trying his best to ignore the fact that his determined companion for the day is a six-pound Pomeranian. It's like Carl's dog senses he is completely baffled by the small ball of fluff and won't leave him alone. He'd put Wolverine back on the porch at the house three times, while Lori laughed her ass off and Judy giggled because her mama was happy.
In the end, their laughter won Wolverine the hunting trip, because Daryl can't resist his girls being joyful. He knows Carl will give him that goofy smile when he finds out Wolverine went out with Daryl, too, and he's man enough to admit that he's as dedicated to making his stepson happy as he is Lori and Judith.
Even if it means indulging a damn designer dog's weird obsession with following him around...
"Don't know why you want to follow me out here. You wouldn't be more than a snack to anything we come across, and I mean the gators, not the walkers."
Wolverine just cocks his head, turning in a circle before bouncing with a tiny yip.
He can't help it. His laughter isn't as bright and musical as his girls', but it delights the little dog into more circles and bounces. For all his tough sounding name, Wolverine is an absolute clown.
Maybe, just maybe, Daryl's figuring out why everyone likes the little puffball so much.
"Yeah, yeah, you're cute, dammit. Now show me your nose actually works and find us something good to hunt?"
As if he actually understands, Wolverine darts off into the underbrush, finding a game trail almost as quickly as the old hound Daryl's uncle used to run the mountains with. He plops on his fuzzy little backside and yawns.
"Guess your nose is better than my eyes, huh."
Kneeling to run a hand across the perky little ears, Daryl smiles. In his old life, he wouldn't have given a dog like this two seconds to prove it was more than a designer purse dog. Now? He thinks he's getting attached.
His new life is making him soft, but he's loving every minute of it.
Hershel kneels in the garden, carefully plucking the weeds that are always sprouting among their vegetables. The plants are thriving in the raised beds built to offset the near-island nature of their home. It's a soothing job, one a little less hectic and bloody than helping deliver the lambs of the past few days.
He hears the back door clatter shut, which tells him it's Carol coming outside and not one of the girls. Sophia and Beth are sweet natured kids, but they aren't as quiet as they would seem, not that he minds. Easing back on his heels, he eases his back a little before standing.
"We really do have a half dozen strong youngsters who are more than happy to keep the gardens free of undesirables," Carol says, smiling warmly as she passes him a glass of lemonade.
Taking a long drink, he pauses to identify the variety afterward. There's a tart berry undertone to the pinkish lemonade, but that could be any of several things Carol has stashed away. A second drink doesn't help, but Carol knows his habit by now.
"It's hibiscus. Do you like it?"
That should have been an early guess, since Carol ends most of her days with a cup of hibiscus tea. This is the first time it's ended up in the lemonade, though. She's smiling expectantly, though, so he owes her an answer.
"Yes. Does that mean you'll use more of your tea stash?"
She laughs and nods, leaning against the patio table they've set up near the garden. Summer is coming on strong for Florida, but mornings are still cool enough to eat breakfast outside. The combination view of a thriving garden and the beautiful harbor make him wish for cooler spring days when they could manage supper outside, too.
Coming to the island and being reunited with her daughter has done Carol a world of good. She'd figured out how to live with the devastating loss, but once Sophia was safe and back in her arms, Carol just… bloomed. Her hair is a silver halo now, grown out from the shorn locks she'd had when they first met, and nothing is mousy about the red and black tie-dyed sundress she's wearing. Hershel thinks she might be more vibrant than the riot of flowers she and the girls planted against the back of the house.
The thought makes him pause, because he's too old to mistake the interest that flickers through him as anything like friendly admiration.
Hershel has been beyond lucky twice in his life. Being blessed so a third time?
He won't know until he asks.
Setting his glass down on the table, he reaches out and takes one of her hands. The fact that her smile brightens at the contact, making her blue eyes sparkle, gives him the tiny push needed.
"I think I would like to kiss you."
"I was wondering when you would ask."
Hershel chuckles at her impish tone, wondering how long he's missed that she's been flirting with him. Leaving that question for another time, he leans in to kiss her, and it's not as chaste as he intended because she tastes like lemonade and sunshine. It feels like they've been gifted with something wondrous out of all the horror of the past year, and he enjoys the moment.
Blessings come in threes for Hershel Greene.
There was a time after the dead walked that Merle thought his biggest regret would be stupidly getting separated from Daryl and his self-amputation. Instead, when his baby brother is retrieved, alive and well, Merle finds himself with an entirely different guilty quandary. It's made worse by his own settling into a family role, he knows, but watching Daryl clean mashed avocado out of Judith's hair?
Damn it drives the point home that maybe he wasn't the worst influence his brother ever had, but he sure as hell didn't make Daryl's adult life better.
"Watching you with that little gal makes me wonder what your life would've been like if I hadn't been such a fuckup."
Daryl stops for a moment just long enough to glare at Merle with enough heat to take Merle back to the time when he deserved that sort of look. "You make it sound like I didn't choose to stay around. Could've left."
Shrugging, Merle shakes his head. "Shouldn't have dragged you into any of my messes. You could've had a family long before now."
"Coulda, shoulda, woulda, brother." Once, that probably would have ended with 'asshole' or 'jackass', but they've had enough good months to get beyond that now. Besides, trust it to take an infant who can't even talk yet to make the Dixon brothers clean up their language, at least temporarily.
Not waiting for Merle to respond, Daryl lifts Judith from the high chair, and instead of taking her to the playpen set up for Cass' grandbabies, he plops her straight into Merle's arms. "Just take a look at her and tell me she wasn't worth waiting on. The rest of them, too."
Judith stares at Merle, as solemn as Daryl ever was at the same age, before breaking into the brightest damn smile Merle's ever seen on a kid. He leans in and busses a kiss on her forehead, knowing it'll inspire giggles, and grins broadly when it works. He thinks of Cass and the family he's grown to love as his own. Maybe there's not this sort of fatherhood in Merle's future, but damn, he enjoys being Pop Pop just fine.
"Yeah, baby brother, they're all worth how long we waited for them."
Sailing across the clear waters of the Gulf on a bright summer day isn't something Rick imagined could ever happen when he woke up in the hospital just over a year ago. Finding his family at the quarry ought to have used up his share of good luck forever. It certainly seemed like it had for the months between the farm falling and finding that riverside camp in Alabama.
But today he's watching Carl adjust the sails on the small Commodore 26, and walkers and the dead world beyond their haven seem a million miles away. It's a sight that makes him regret all the years where he was a loving father, but not that good a dad. Before, he thought Lori was being hypercritical when she insisted Carl needed more than scraps of his time. His job was important, and Carl certainly seemed proud of having a sheriff's deputy father.
Pride is nothing compared to the happiness his son displays these days to spend so much time in Rick's company. They still share a room, and Rick takes each day Carl wants to continue as roommates as a gift. He doesn't know how he got this lucky, to get a chance to be a hands-on dad at the time most boys start trying to become independent of their fathers, but he's glad of it.
Carl drops the anchor and comes to stand to Rick. "Are you sunbathing, or are we gonna catch some fish, Dad?"
Laughing, Rick moves from sitting to sprawling on the seat. "Now that you mention it, maybe I do need a tan."
That earns him something between a laugh and a snort from Carl. "Pretty sure tanning isn't something that happens with the Grimes' genes."
"Yeah, you might be right on that one."
Rick stands and drags his son into his arms, hugging Carl tightly both to tease and just because he can. Carl doesn't protest, instead, hugging him back with the hint of the future strength he'll have.
"Love you."
"Love you, too, son. Let's get some fish caught so they don't think we're sailing just to get out of garden duty."
It's the perfect way to pass the afternoon together. Rick spent so many years afraid of thinking that doing the right thing was staying married to Lori and giving Carl a two-parent home. Now that the worst has come to pass with his marriage, he realizes it was never the nightmare it seemed. He's happy, Lori's happy, and best of all, Carl has an even bigger family than Rick ever imagined he have.
Rick can't ask for anything more.
There are so many events that upended Shane's life over the past thirteen months that pinpointing which one had the most impact is harder than it would seem. The obvious one is Judith's birth, of course, but as much as he adores his daughter, becoming a father seems more like the finale than the start of the race. The anniversary of Rick being shot came and went, observed with as little fanfare as any of them could manage.
Without the virus, would Rick's coma have changed Shane's entire life? Probably not. He knows he never would have flickered so much as an eyelash Lori's way without thinking Rick was dead, and the mistake that led Shane to believe that was impossible before the world ended.
There never would have been Judith.
There never would have been the adventure where he became the much beloved uncle to more than just Carl.
There never would have been Princess.
He's too self aware of his pattern with women before. Six months was his maximum, and even then, none ever lived with him. Having a key and a drawer, yeah, but never being the first thing he sees every morning and the last thing he sees at night.
Marriage had never even pinged his radar… until now.
"You're looking mighty pensive for a man being used as a baby's naptime accessory."
Lori's voice startles Shane, but not so much that he dislodges Judith from her spot drooling on his chest. She settles into the armchair opposite, tucking one leg up under her and sipping from a cup. Tea, most likely, as they've discovered even half a cup of coffee will make Judith bounce off the walls.
"Thinking about all the changes."
"Judy changes or…"
Lori lets the question fade off, tilting her head to look at him. The short hair took some getting used to, making her look waifishly young. It's a good look on her, but he thinks it's less the hairstyle and more being content and genuinely as happy as she was when they first met back in college.
They haven't really talked about the quarry or the CDC or the months she was lost. Instead, they've settled into a comfortable friendship that feels richer than the minor connection they've shared most of their adult lives of both loving Rick and Carl. Some of that is being parents to Judith, he knows, but it's also that they're each far more settled into themselves, thanks to Daryl and Princess.
"I was just thinking about how I never understood marriage back in King County."
Lori hums softly before smiling. "There's a reason for the old cliche about the perpetual bachelor falling hard when he finally falls, you know."
Running a hand along Judith's back, Shane nods. "I'm sorry it wasn't you."
He genuinely is sorry, because without the extra anchor the relationship with Lori gave him, he isn't sure his sanity would have held in those first awful months. As much as he adores Carl, there's a difference between caring for a child - and having someone care for you the way Lori did him back then. They aren't compatible, and holy hell, it would make awkward seem like a cakewalk if they were a couple now, but he does love Lori...just not like he loves Princess.
"I'm not."
Not that Shane blames her there. He knows their reasoning in the quarry was different, and guilt is a harder taskmaster on Lori than it will ever be for him. And guilt has no place in her happiness now. No one could ever deny that Daryl makes Lori happy in a way Shane thought impossible. They're the odd couple that just click.
"Do you think Princess would say yes if I asked her to marry me?"
"I think that she loves you so damn much she'd swim the Gulf in nothing but floaties if you asked." Lori laughs softly, setting her cup down on the end table and leaning forward. "In all seriousness, you're both head over heels in love, Shane. I can't imagine anything better than seeing you two get married."
Getting those words out, plus Lori's enthusiastic acceptance, makes Shane smile, but it doesn't stay just a smile for long. Just imagining the wondrous chaos Princess will conjure up for a wedding makes him grin.
"I know it's my night for Judy, but would you mind if we swap out?"
"Not one bit."
That plan drops them both into companionable silence, and Shane finds himself dozing under the sweet, warm weight of his daughter. When he was a kid, Grandma Jean often told him that dwelling on the past was never the path to lasting happiness. He's spent so much of his life in pursuit of vapid self-indulgence, but the past is the past.
It took him a long and winding path to understanding the wisdom she tried to impart, and it doesn't lie in his past mistakes, but in the dedication he has to his future.
She'd be proud of him, he thinks.
A/N: That's all, folks, after a looooong delay. Beginnings are easy, middles complicated, but endings? I just hope you enjoy all the happily ever afters!
