Author's Note: Admittedly this is a slower, filler chapter, but it is necessary and I hope ya'll enjoy it regardless. As always, please R&R!

- Holly, xoxo

"When grief is deepest, words are fewest. " — Ann Voskamp

In the days following the walker massacre, Alexandria began to rebuild. The first task was the obvious task of cleaning up; removing the bodies littering the streets, lawns, in homes and even in the small lake. The other main task, tended to by those with more of a technical know-how, was to fix the damaged section of wall that had come down with the fallen tower. Tobin and Abraham co-headed up the construction crew and went about fortifying the panels after the tower had been broken up into further pieces, and those pieces of wood that weren't charred from whatever fire had destroyed the building earlier on during the outbreak would be set aside for later use, or possibly for firewood in the homes. Almost everyone else banded together and began gathering up the bodies, loading them up into trucks and taking them outside Alexandria's walls to burn.

There were only a handful bodies that wouldn't receive that fate; but only one went unaccounted for and that was Deanna.

At some point throughout the night while the hordes of walkers were still making their way throughout the community, Deanna's body had gone missing. Most had come to the assumption that she was either completely devoured by other walkers, although there was no indication as to such a demise due to lack of evidence, so to speak. The other assumption was that she might've very well died and reanimated and somehow managed to leave the house and the community altogether as just another walker.

After Rick had returned home with Georgie and Judith the morning after the fight for Alexandria, he was pleasantly surprised to see the house was perfectly intact. No walkers had gotten inside or even made their way up to the porch. Once indoors, he led both his girls upstairs and took Judith from Georgie's arms to put the little girl down into her playard. She'd had a long night, the same as everyone. Because of the commotion, she hadn't been able to get any proper sleep and the way she was starting to fuss and thrash her body around in her father's arms was a big hint that the girl needed some serious shut eye.

Leaning down into the playard as Judith lifted her head up toward him, continuing to pout and whine, Rick simply brushed his hand along her hair and lull her with low shushing sounds until her eyes began to droop. He didn't need to do much else to urge her to sleep. The poor little thing could barely keep her eyes open no matter how hard she tried and in moments her head was bobbing and she was down for the ten count.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Rick closed the door and then looked around for where Georgie was, thinking she was still in the hall where he'd momentarily left her, only to find she was standing in the room Carl had been sharing with Tristan. Walking up behind her, he placed his hands on her upper arms and leaned his forehead against the back of her head and pressed his lips into her hair.

"C'mon, let's get cleaned up."

"He was…he was in here yesterday. We talked to him yesterday and he seemed to understand what we told him and…and he seemed okay."

Leaning back, Rick let out a quiet sigh. "I know," he remarked, giving her arms a gentle rub. "I can't say enough how sorry I am, Georgie. I really am."

Turning around, Georgie didn't even look at him as she stepped past him and walked back down the hallway to the bathroom. Rick didn't miss a beat in following behind her as he watched her open the bathroom door and walk inside without bothering to go into their bedroom first to get new clothes to change into. He entered the room moments after her and let his eyes study the way she seemed aimless in her movements. She let her fingers graze the porcelain edge of the sink as she looked over toward the shower before dropping her hands to her sides and lifting up her shirt. When she winced slightly due to the gunshot wound to her shoulder, despite being on pain medication given to her by Denise, Rick stepped up and helped her out of her shirt and she let him.

Dropping her blood and grime-soaked shirt to the floor, Rick stepped around and got down to his knees in front of her. He braced one hand on the back of her left leg to prevent her from falling over as he helped her out of her boot, and then repeated the process for the right. After setting both aside and peeling her socks off, he stood back up and stepped up behind her; focusing on the side of her face as she just stood there while he unclasped her bra and pulled it down off her shoulders. Even after her bra dropped to the floor and she stood there naked from the waist up, she couldn't seem to focus on what she needed to do. Rick, remembering the bathroom door was still open, stepped back a few paces to shut it and then stepped forward again. He reached his hands around to Georgie's front and unzipped her pants and began to shimmy them down off her hips for her; crouching as he continued to push them down to her ankles. When her pants pooled at her feet, she stepped out of the right leg and kicked them away with her left. She was left in only her underwear and she turned around to face Rick, but couldn't look him in the face. Her eyes wandered to his chest, and up to his left shoulder at the thin scar caused by Morgan stabbing him there nearly a year before.

Bringing her fingers up to the old scar to graze lightly along it, Georgie leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his chest, just under his chin, and all he could do was encircle his arms around her back and hold her there. He wasn't sure if she was going to cry or what. He just held her, knowing she needed comfort and he didn't question it.

After a few minutes like that in silence, Georgie pulled back and turned from him as she pushed her underwear off and let them drop. Rick took that opportunity to walk over to the shower and turn it on, letting his hand hover under the spray to test the water until it was the right temperature. Knowing how they were both feeling, he had figured a little hotter than normal would be the best option at the moment.

Rick let her step inside the shower by herself, watching how the steam almost instant formed a cloud around her and began to fog up the glass of the shower stall to leave her body virtually indiscernible.

"I'll be right back. I'm gonna get some clean clothes for us," he informed, loud enough so she could hear him over the din of the water.

He received no acknowledgement that she heard him, but still exited the bathroom either way. And he was only gone two minutes, give or take, for once forgoing his usual black jeans and opting for actual denim for himself since they were clean. A clean black shirt for himself he also grabbed up, along with a simple white tank top and comfy black yoga pants for Georgie. While he didn't bother grabbing underwear for himself, he did for Georgie. She only had the one bra, though, but he was sure she didn't give a shit about that at the moment. He could toss it into the washer and dryer with their other soiled clothes later. A day without wearing a bra was the least of her worries.

When he slipped out of their room and back into the bathroom, he looked straight at the shower but didn't see Georgie initially. The water was still running and the steam was still fogging up all the glass surfaces in the room. Shutting the door behind him once again, Rick set their clothes down upon the closed toilet seat lid and then realized Georgie was sitting on the shower stall floor.

Worried that she might've slipped and hurt herself, Rick pulled the glass door open and peered down at her to find she was sitting there the same as she had earlier in the room in the infirmary where Carl was being cared for in. With her legs bent at the knees and pulled to her chest, Georgie sat with her head bent down, quietly sobbing.

Fortunate that the shower was large enough for the two of them to fit comfortably inside, Rick left the shower door open as he quickly removed all of his own clothing, along with his boots. Once disrobed, he stepped into the shower stall, closed the glass door as hot water began beating down on him. Crouching down, Rick managed to sit down beside her as the blood and other dirt was washed away, and pushed her wet hair off the side of her face closest to him. When Georgie lifted her head to look at him, he took that opportunity to wrap and arm around her back and pull her up to sit down in his lap.

There was absolutely nothing sexual about the moment. Georgie welcomed his arms tightly embracing her and the hot water washing as much of her guilt and grief away as symbolically as possible. Shifting her body so that she was straddling his lap, she wrapped her arms around his back as well and dropped her face down upon his shoulder as she continued to cry. And she wasn't alone in that, either. Rick didn't say anything to her to further console her. He simply let his own tears fall as well.

By the time either Rick or Georgie had managed to clean up in the shower, the water was already starting to run cold, but neither seemed to care. They got out, dried off and got dressed in their clean clothes. Even though they were both absolutely exhausted, both mentally and physically, neither could be bothered with sleeping just yet; not when they both knew Tristan's body was out there among the deceased walkers. Neither could rest until the boy's body was recovered and buried. However, Rick knew that Georgie finding her son's body after how they'd been forced to leave him would be too horrible a thing, so he had her stay back at the house while he walked up to the infirmary once more to ask that favor of someone else.

Rick just couldn't do it either.

Tristan had become a son to him and seeing what was left of the boy would've been to traumatizing. He was lucky to pass both Daryl and Glenn on his way to the infirmary and mentioned his plight. His two friends readily offered their services without hesitation. After Rick showed them toward the direction of where they'd been forced to leave Tristan's body behind, Rick just stood there at the intersection looking down the road toward the main gate with his arms folded anxiously across his chest and squinting from the morning sun. He watched as the two men stepped around all the scattered bodies, nudging a few out of their way, until he saw them come to a stop and peer down at the ground. Rick watched the way they looked at each other and place their hands on their hips and then turn away.

Whereas Daryl just stood there shaking his head, Glenn turned away and hunched forward as if he wanted to throw up and Rick was suddenly very aware that he was shaking. Before he could stop himself, he was walking forward to join up with the other two, stepping over or around walkers here and there, until Daryl sensed him approaching and held up a hand for him to stop.

"Rick, no," the archer muttered, shaking his head.

"What is it?" Then, more specifically, "How bad does he look?"

Pushing himself upright again, Glenn clenched his fists and frowned sadly. "There isn't much of him left, Rick," he answered pitifully.

His brow angling upward and his chin quivering, the first image those words brought to mind was when he went looking for Lori after she'd died and finding nothing but her wedding ring, a blood trail and that bloated walker who had devoured her; clothing and all. As he tried wrapping his head around the fact that his surrogate son, a nine-year-old child, was nothing but bloody pieces of flesh and bone, Rick's shaking became more visible to Daryl and Glenn.

"Just stay there, brother. That's why you got us doing this. Don't look," Daryl advised.

"I'll go get a few bed sheets," Glenn remarked. Off Daryl's nod, the younger man darted around the lower end of the lake and up toward the pantry, which was always stocked with extra bedding, not just food.

"Glenn and I got this," Daryl continued, lifting his hand to shield his already squinty eyes from the sun. "You should get sleep."

Rick shook his head. "I can't sleep till Tristan's taken care of."

"And we'll take care of him."

"There's barely anything to bury though. Georgie's gonna notice, wrapped in bed sheets or not."

Daryl frowned, looking around him at the other bodies scattered around. "We could take other parts. Add them to…to what we have of him. We'll lay it out so it looks like a whole body. Wrap it up in a few of the bed sheets. Georgie won't have to know."

"I'll know."

"But you won't tell her."

Nodding, Rick turned and looked toward the infirmary. "No, I won't," he agreed. "It's better she not know the details. She's practically catatonic right now as it is."

A few minutes later, Glenn returned with two bed sheets. He and Daryl shoved a few walkers out of the way and spread the first sheet out and, after throwing on some gloves, they lifted up what was left of Tristan and laid it down in the center of the sheet. Daryl then took the machete Glenn had strapped to his hip and began hacking off random body parts from the walkers nearby, much to Glenn's initial horror until he realized why. They set the limbs here and there and then wrapped the bed sheet around the entirety of the body parts, and then lifted it all up to wrap up once more in the second sheet, knowing the blood and entrails would seep through very easily.

"Did she really shoot Tristan?" Glenn asked of Rick, quietly.

Rick, who had been observing the pair at work, nodded grimly. "Yeah."

"I can't imagine how she's dealing with that."

"I don't think she really is yet."

"Can ya blame her?" Daryl questioned rhetorically.

"She's had to do it to both her kids, though. That's just…" Glenn sighed as he began tie some rope around one end of the swathed limbs. "That's just unnatural."

"The fuck that supposed to mean?" Daryl bit out, as he bound the other end.

"Carol, Michonne, Abraham, Deanna…Georgie: parents in this world who lost their children," Glenn spoke. "Parents shouldn't be burying their children. It should be the other way around. It's unnatural."

"Abraham had kids?" Rick wondered, momentarily distracted.

Glenn nodded. "Two, from what I've gotten out of Rosita. He told her, she told me in passing. They died along with his wife back in Texas before he met Eugene."

Glancing at the swaddled body parts, Rick inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and dropped his hands helplessly to his hips before gesturing toward the east end of Alexandria. "I'm, uh…I'll meet you at the graveyard. I'm gonna…gonna start digging the grave."

"Nah, brother, we got that, too," Daryl insisted.

Rick simply shook his head. "No, he was my son, too. I gotta do something."

It was the first time anyone other than Georgie or Rick himself had heard Rick refer to the boy as his son, and Daryl and Glenn just nodded in understanding. They watched him turn and make his way up the road and then turn right toward the infirmary. Even after they lost sight of him due to the coverage of shrubbery surrounding the lake, the two men holding the remains of Tristan and a few walkers knew their friend had not stopped at the infirmary and had continued on toward the edge of the walled community and made his way to the graveyard.

Rick had barely started digging by the time Daryl and Glenn brought Tristan's "body" to the graveyard. They set it down and just stood back to let Rick do his thing. Afterward, Rick, covered in dirt and sweat, grabbed the swaddled remains and lowered it down into the shallow grave with Daryl's help, despite Rick muttering under his breath that he had it under control. However, Rick shaking from grief and looking as if he wanted to vomit suggested otherwise.

Others were starting to filter into the graveyard to bury the few others that had died when the walkers came into Alexandria and saw Tristan's small grave and looked solemnly at each other and offered Rick a nod of condolence. Rick then brushed his hands on his jeans and mumbled something about going to get Georgie while Glenn offered to go grab Father Gabriel to preside over the funeral. Daryl remained, though, as if some sort of guard dog to make sure no one covered Tristan's grave up just yet.

Once Rick returned home, looking as soiled and sweaty as he was, he opted for changing into a different shirt in the laundry room before getting Georgie from upstairs. He didn't want her to see him that dirty and give her any more of a visual than she needed about what had been going on, even though he knew she was aware of it.

When Rick walked back out toward the kitchen, he found Morgan and asked if he'd stay put and keep an ear out for Judith while he brought Georgie with him to the graveyard for her son's funeral. The other man obliged and then Rick took his leave to head back upstairs where he found Georgie lying on their bed and at first he thought she was asleep, but when he moved around to the other side and peered at her, he could see she was just staring at the wall.

"It's time, honey."

"I can't," she whispered.

"You can't sit this out. You need to bury your son," he replied. "You'll hate yourself if you don't."

"I already hate myself."

Frowning, Rick moved back around to where she was lying and placed a hand on her shoulder. "C'mon."

With a heavy sigh, Georgie sat up and stood up. Slowly, she followed him out of their room, down the stairs and ignored the look of sympathy Morgan offered as she walked past him out the door with Rick. The couple didn't walk side by side, instead Rick leading the way around the bodies lying on the street. She walked slowly, with her hands wrapped across her chest and, although she was looking forward, she wasn't really seeing. She was in such a state of shock still. It felt almost impossible to comprehend what she was going through.

She'd always thought she'd be mentally prepared for something like this, given the fact that she had spent so long on the road toying with the possibility that her son was also dead.

There was no preparing for it, though.

Losing her daughter had been traumatizing enough, but she at least had the hope of her son being alive to keep her going. Now with that rug pulled out from underneath her, she felt so lost and shattered.

Once at the graveyard, and seeing the swaddled remains of her son, Georgie's knees buckled. But, before she could drop to the ground, Rick caught her and pulled her body against his; holding her close as she forced herself to not look away. Her son deserved her full attention even in death.

As Father Gabriel stood at the foot of the small grave, he lifted his bible up and then looked sadly over at both Georgie and Rick and the latter noticed a look of guilt also plaguing the preacher's face. Rick could more or less assume Gabriel probably wished he had taken Tristan with him to his church along with Judith, and then the boy might still be alive. However, there was no point in placing the blame at the moment. What was done was done. The boy had sealed his own fate by drawing attention to himself with that damned gun, which they would eventually come to realize had been stolen from the armory.

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven," Gabriel began. "A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace…"

Gabriel turned to another spot in his bible and began to say some more words, but by that point both Georgie and Rick had seemed to tune him out. When they were nudged gently by Carol, they both looked up and saw Gabriel looking back at them with a sad smile and nodded to them, confirming he was done. Rick picked up the shovel he'd been using earlier and handed it to Georgie for her to throw the first bit of soil into her son's grave.

Taking the shovel into her shaky hands, Georgie crouched down and scooped the dirt up; tossing it down upon the white sheets wrapped around Tristan's remains. She hesitated in hand the shovel off though, gripping it tightly when she noticed there was blood soaking through the white material. When Rick took the shovel from her and tossed the next bit of soil into the grave, he passed it along to Carol, who repeated the gesture, and then Daryl, and Michonne, and Glenn, and Maggie, and Rosita.

Everyone in their immediate family took a turn and as Georgie looked up to take it all in, she realized that every single survivor within Alexandria — except for Denise who was back at the infirmary with a still unconscious Carl, and Morgan who had stayed behind with a sleeping Judith — was present. Every single person. Even the people Georgie barely knew still.

They weren't just there for the burial of the other fallen residents from their community. They were there for a fallen child and the mother he'd left behind. And, if Georgie wasn't so withdrawn from grief, she might've been moved to tears at the show of support. No matter the circumstances leading to his death, Tristan was still a child and the only child killed within Alexandria's walls since the beginning and everyone, whether they had really known the boy or not, was grieving such a loss at some level.

After the last bit of soil was thrown onto Tristan's grave and the other graves were tended to, most everyone had already begun to leave; to either go home and finally sleep, or push through their exhaustion in order to get to work at cleaning up the streets or fixing the wall.

When Rick took Georgie's hand to lead her away, she yanked her hand back and glared at him.

"No, I'm staying."

"You need to sleep," he insisted.

"I'll sleep later," Georgie replied, sitting down beside her son's grave. "I need to be here right now."

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Rick looked behind him to find Michonne nodding at him with the silent message of just letting Georgie be for now. Agreeing silently in return, Rick nodded back and then looked at anyone else was remained, telling them to head home; to get sleep or something to eat. They would have a busy few days and weeks ahead of them.

After the last person left the graveyard, Rick crouched down behind Georgie and placed his hands on her upper arms before pressing his lips into her hair on the back of her head. "I love you," he murmured, and then stood up; leaving her alone to mourn in peace.

Avoiding the suggestions to get some sleep of his own, like many were doing for a couple of hours before continuing with the beginning stages of cleanup, Rick went about loading up bodies into the back of the trucks with Daryl, Glenn and Heath. Eugene and Spencer manned the gate to let them out as they took the bodies outside to burn behind the ruined houses. By mid-afternoon, Tobin's wife flagged them down to offer them something to eat, which they did, either standing beside or on the tailgate eating peanut butter sandwiches made with homemade bread. It wasn't much but they weren't complaining.

Running on steam by that point, the group decided to call it quits for a while. Even though most of the bodies had yet to be burned, they had been moved down near the gate into piles to load up later on and take outside the walls for burning like the first batch. Until the fallen wall could be fixed, Abraham had driven the fuel tanker and parked it in front of the opening, making it difficult for anything to come inside the community. A few of the wooden boards from the fallen tower were used to line the bottoms of the truck on the outside of the wall to prevent anything from crawling underneath the truck.

Rick, ready to drop from exhaustion, having been up almost thirty-six hours, the same as pretty much everyone else, knew he had to sleep very soon. But he had things he still needed to do. He had to check on Carl, and see if there was any development with his condition, and he needed to go home and see if Georgie had gone up to sleep. Rick felt she needed it more than anyone; having been awake the same amount of time plus with her injury and her grief running her ragged.

After nearly an hour spent sitting with Carl, who was still asleep, Rick made the slow trek home. His thighs were sore from how active he'd been over the last two days and his vision was starting to blur from lack of sleep. The incessant yawning was doing nothing to help him either.

As he stepped inside the house, he found Michonne asleep on the couch with Judith on her chest, also asleep. He smiled, happy in the knowledge that so many loved and cared for his children. The saying of "it takes a village to raise a child" suddenly popped into his head and it never felt more true. Staggering up the stairs and making his way to his and Georgie's bedroom, he was stopped before he even reached the door by Carol sticking her head out of her own bedroom door.

"Georgie's not in there," she muttered.

"What?" Rick looked over at her, slightly distracted from exhaustion.

"She never came back from the graveyard," Carol clarified. "I think she's still there. I would've gone to check but I was so tired, the second I sat down on my bed I fell asleep for a few hours."

Rick hung his head and pinched his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the sleep deprivation migraine setting in. "Alright," he muttered. "Thanks for telling me."

"I'll go now. You need sleep."

"No," he shook his head, looking back up at her. "She's my wi—she's my, uh…I got it."

Carol smirked. "Okay."

"Michonne's got Judy with her on the couch. Both are asleep."

Nodding, Carol stepped more out into the hallway. "I'll grab Judith and make her something to eat. She's due for some dinner anyway."

Rick nodded back and moved back down the stairs with Carol in tow. While he headed for the door, he noticed Michonne and Judith were both now awake and he figured his heavy footsteps might've been the culprit. Retracing his steps a bit, Rick smiled down at his little girl and reached for her when Michonne passed her to him. Cradling his daughter in his arms, he inhaled the scent of her blonde tufts of hair and then kissed the top of her head.

"Hey, sweetheart," he murmured. "Been a good girl for your aunts?"

"If you call drooling all over my neck while she sleeps being good," Michonne quipped, wiping her throat with the palm of her hand and then wiping her hand on the side of her pants.

Rick chuckled a bit. "You're the one who fell asleep with her like that."

Michonne shrugged. "She's so cute though, and she loves to cuddle."

"She gets that from her mama," he remarked, kissing Judith's forehead and then leaning back to look at her little face as she looked up at him.

He saw so much of Lori in her, and it was rather nice sometimes. He no longer felt that guilt over his wife's death and had been able to move past it and looking at his daughter and seeing Lori now was like looking at an old, home video and smiling at the good memories. However, when he looked at Judith nowadays, as she was coming into her looks more and more, he knew the other features in the little girl were none of his and all Shane. He tried seeing the good in that to; forgetting the way things ended with his dead best friend and focusing on the fact that part of the man was still alive in the girl in his arms. No matter what, in his heart, despite what genetics might say, Judith was his daughter and always would be, but he knew someday he would have to tell her the truth. Not until she was much, much, much older though.

As Carol came up behind him to take Judith and give her some dinner, Rick looked back to Michonne after letting his gaze linger sleepily upon his daughter for a few more moments.

"You headed back out?" Michonne asked. "You just got back and you look like you're gonna pass out at any minute."

Rick shrugged. "I gotta check on Georgie. Carol says she hasn't come home yet since the funeral this morning."

"I'll come with you."

Rick was gonna say she didn't have to, but just accepted her company.

The two of them walked in silence out of the house and up the road until they neared the infirmary when Michonne asked if there was a change in Carl's condition. When Rick said there wasn't, Michonne mentioned taking a shift to watch over him either that night or the next morning.

"I'm sure he'd like that," Rick commented, running his fingers through his curls which were slick from sweat.

At the end of the road, they ducked between the shrubbery sectioning off the graveyard for privacy and both stopped when they looked down toward Tristan's grave to see Georgie lying down beside it with her legs curled up to her chest. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady, and she just looked so peaceful. As Rick walked closer and crouched down, he could see there were dried streaks from tears on her face, signifying she'd likely cried herself to sleep.

Moving around to pick her up and carry her home to put her to bed somewhere more comfortable, Michonne grabbed his arm and stopped him. When he looked over his shoulder at her, he saw the other woman shaking her head rather adamantly with a somewhat stern expression. Curious, Rick watched as Michonne walked over to one of the extra bed sheets that hadn't been need for the bodies buried earlier and draped it gently down upon Georgie.

Stepping back and look up at Rick, she touched his shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "When she wakes up and is ready to come home, she will." When she locked knowing eyes with Rick, she added, "Let her grieve in her own way right now."

Sometime in the middle of the night, Rick awoke from a nightmare wherein Carl, Georgie and Tristan had all be devoured by walkers the night before and he wasn't able to make it back to the church to get to Judith because there were too many walkers surrounding him and, for some reason, he had no weapons to protect himself with and Michonne wasn't there like she had been when she led their way to the infirmary. He'd been alone and was about to die and that fear is what suddenly jolted him awake to find tears at his eyes.

Sitting upright and looking to his right, he saw that Georgie still wasn't there beside him. It made him feel anxious and the residual thoughts from the nightmare weren't helping him any. Tossing his legs over the side of the bed and just staring into the darkness of the room for a while, he eventually pulled himself up to his feet and exited his and Georgie's room to go check on Judith. Peering inside, he saw she was asleep and safe, so he took his leave.

The house was quiet. Carol's bedroom door was shut, but Carl and Tristan's bedroom door was open because it was empty and not knowing when it would be occupied by his son again ate at him worse than the walkers from his nightmare ever could.

Walking quietly down the stairs, he looked and saw Michonne's bedroom door was closed and then peered around the kitchen and living space, finding it just as quiet and empty. Grabbing for his jacket, he threw it on and zipped it up halfway; the nights always seeming cooler even when the days could be blistering hot. As Rick stepped out onto the front porch, he looked to his left and immediate found Daryl asleep with a pillow from the couch under his head.

Rick smirked and kept walking down from the porch and up the street. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he remembered the first night he'd walked the same path, with his hands in his pockets. That night, however, there had been a full moon out and Jake had been on the front porch of the blue house smoking a cigarette, welcoming him to Alexandria while Georgie and Tristan were inside the house.

How differently things had changed in less than a month.

Hell, how differently things had changed in only twenty-four hours.

Seeing a light on in the infirmary, Rick felt compelled to stop inside and check on Carl again. Each time he stepped through the door there he did so while holding his breath, half expecting Denise to tell him Carl hadn't made it. Carl quickly deteriorating and dying before anyone could do anything or before Rick could get to his son's side to tell him goodbye was becoming a constant fear of his; hence his need to frequently check in, even if there was no change. He simply needed to see that his son was doing well enough with his own eyes.

Inside, he found Rosita at the desk with her feet up and painting her fingernails a vibrant shade of red. Raising an eyebrow at her, he stopped just inside the doorway and cleared his throat when she hadn't registered someone had even entered.

"Nice color," he remarked.

Looking considerably embarrassed, Rosita dropped her feet down to the ground and shifted in her seat. "Uh…thanks."

"Where'd you find nail polish?"

"Tobin's wife."

Rick nodded. "Ahh," he muttered lamely, casting an eye toward the bedroom to the left where Carl was. "How's he doing?"

"Still asleep, but Denise says he's still doing okay." Frowning, she added, "I haven't had a chance to say, but I'm sorry he got shot like that. I'm sorry about Georgie losing her son, too. I can even begin to understand what the two of you are going through right now."

"I appreciate the sympathy, regardless," he insisted. "We both do."

"How is Georgie holding up?"

Rick let out a sigh. "Not great, but that's to be expected."

"How are you holding up?"

"Better than Georgie," he replied, looking down at and purposely scuffing the toe of his boot against the wooden floor. "I can't help feeling guilty that my son survived and hers didn't. That I have both my children and she doesn't."

Rosita shrugged. "But she has you, and she has Carl and Judith, too. And all of us. We're all here for her if she needs anything."

"I appreciate that, Rosita."

"It's what family does." With a small smile, the twenty-something female lifted her legs back up onto the desk and resumed painting her fingernails.

"Yeah, it is."

"Did you want to go in and sit with Carl?" she asked, casting a brief look his way.

"No, I just came to check on him. I couldn't sleep."

"Well, if anything changes, or if he wakes up, someone will certainly come get you."

"Thank you."

"No problemo, Ricardo."

Snickering, Rick shook his head and bid Rosita goodnight, but only after ducking into the bedroom to place a kiss upon his son's head and whisper he loved him.

Once he exited the infirmary, he turned right and continued up the road toward the graveyard. Most homes were dark, except for the Monroe residence where he knew Spencer was now living all by himself; the last of his family. It didn't seem like it would be the best option for the younger man in the long run; living alone in such a big space with constant reminders of his parents and brother. Perhaps, in time, the home could be passed to someone with a larger family and Spencer could take up residence in a smaller place, or even take in roommates.

Maybe Maggie and Glenn could live there and start a family of their own. Maybe Rick would move himself in with Georgie, Carl and Judith, since he was more or less the de facto leader once again. He wouldn't mind it, he supposed. It was a really nice home. All those stairs, though, would kill his knees, so perhaps he was fine with where he was. Honestly he liked his current setup; with not only his children and the woman he loved, but also his friends who were his family, too.

Approaching the shrubbery separating the graveyard from the road, Rick slipped through them once again and found Georgie still asleep at her son's grave. Tempted with the notion of either leaving her there still or with bringing her home anyway, Rick instead opted to lie down beside her.

Lying on his side, big spoon to her little spoon, he gently draped an arm over her waist and pulled her close. She didn't wake up from the gesture, but in her sleep she seemed to sense him; snuggling back up against him in a way that brought a smile of contentment to his face.

Leaning his forehead between her shoulder blades, Rick inhaled the scent from her hair and closed his eyes, letting the sound of crickets and the random moan from a walker or two outside the walls lull him to sleep.

A few hours later, Rick was abruptly stirred away by a gentle kick to his shin. When he lifted his head, and opened his eyes, he was forced to squint from the morning sun beating down on him and could make out a pair of legs standing next to him. Scanning upward, he realized it was Carol, and she was holding Judith on her hip.

"Good morning, sunshine," she greeted with a small smile.

Rick grunted and began to sit up while looking around at where he was, and remembered he was in the graveyard. What was different about his surroundings now was that the bed sheet that had been draped over Georgie was now draped over him, and Georgie was gone.

For a moment, he felt the onset of panic deep in his chest and Carol seemed to sense it.

"Georgie came home a little while ago. She went upstairs, took a shower and changed, held onto Judith for a few minutes and then went back out," Carol explained. "When I came this way, I was sure I saw her near the wall with the construction crew. Her hair is kinda hard to miss."

Rick nodded and climbed up to his feet, balling the bed sheet into his arms and then reaching a hand out to Judith's face and cupping it gently. "Thanks for waking me up and telling me."

"Heath told me where you were. He thought he heard a walker in here," she commented, looking around the graveyard. "Turns out it was just you snoring."

Smirking a little, Rick shrugged as he adjusted his gun belt on his hips. "I guess I was still pretty damn tired."

"We're gonna get through this. All of us. We're gonna make this place better."

"Fingers crossed, right?"

A few minutes later, Rick and Carol went their separate ways; with Carol returning home with Judith and Rick heading to the infirmary again to check on Carl. Denise was there, standing at her desk, thumbing through some large medical tome while nursing a cup of coffee in her free hand. When Rick walked in, she greeted him with a shy smile and offered him a cup of coffee which he turned down at first, but then accepted when she insisted. As he ducked into Carl's recovery room, he pulled up the chair at his son's bedside and took the teen's hand in his like he had the morning before.

"Carl, it's Dad," he spoke, squeezing his son's hand. "I'm here again. I wish you could wake up and tell me you were okay, but if it means you'll heal better, then take all the time you need. No rush or anything. I'm just…I know you can hear me on some level, but I'm still scared of losing you. I hope this is something you can get through. I mean, I know it is. I need you to. Again, though; no pressure."

"Here ya go, Rick," Denise muttered as she walked into the room with a cup of coffee for him.

"Thanks," he replied, taking it graciously from her with a slight nod of his head.

"He's doing really well," she spoke after a moment of awkward silence between them. "His hands are twitch occasionally. Sometimes his head seems to turn toward the direction of whoever's talking to him."

"Have others been in here to visit with him?"

Denise nodded. "Aside from me and Rosita and you? Yeah. Daryl popped in for a few minutes last night before Rosita took over watching him for me. Enid read him some comic books. Michonne held his hand and just sat there where you are for a good hour early this morning, and Georgie, too."

"Georgie was here?"

"Yeah, I mean. I didn't see her. Rosita told me. It was literally just before I started my shift for the day. She was in here for about a half hour, sitting with Carl. Rosita said she thinks she heard her crying but didn't dare interrupt."

Rick sat back in the chair, still maintaining his hold on Carl's hand, while taking a sip of the coffee and trying to ignore how horribly sweet it tasted while focusing on the fact that Georgie had stopped in to see Carl. "Did she say anything while she was here, do you know?"

When Rick cast his eyes upon her, Denise shrugged. "I dunno. Rosita didn't tell me anything else and I was too busy checking Carl's vitals."

Rick nodded. "And you're sure he's doing okay?"

"I am. And I have a hunch he'll regain consciousness in another day or so. I mean, like I said before, this kind of head trauma with the shattered bone and destruction to his ocular cavity. He'll wake up, but until we do we won't know the extent of the damage." She seemed to be tiptoeing through her words under his steady gaze. "There could be other issues. Cognitive issues."

"Such as?"

"Worst case scenario?"

"Yeah."

Denise exhaled a nervous sigh. "Loss of memory, speech, basic comprehension and reasoning…"

Rick gripped his coffee cup tighter in his hand and clenched his jaw; not out of anger but fearing the worst. "And the best case scenario?"

"Best case is he has coordination issues with having to get used to having only one eye, and he'll definitely have an issue with depth perception, but that can be treated with PT," she answered. "When he wakes up, and I can determine the extent of the trauma, and once we can get him up and moving again, I'll work with him at getting back to as close to one hundred percent as I can."

"I appreciate it. Everything."

Denise shrugged. "Like I said: just doing my job."

"Well…you're doing pretty damn well in my book."

"Considering I'm the only option…"

"Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them," Rick muttered.

A smile formed on Denise's lips as she pointed at him knowingly. "That was Shakespeare."

Rick confirmed with a nod and a slight smile of his own. "I read a book or two in high school. I remember some things."

Fidgeting somewhat, Denise looked over at Carl and then out through the doorway to the rest of the infirmary. "Well, I'll, uh…give you some privacy now."

As soon as Denise darted out of the room, Rick turned his gaze back toward his son. Running his thumb across the teen's knuckles, he sighed and brought the coffee cup back to his lips and then frowned upon the second sip; wondering just how much sugar Denise had put in. He was used to either drinking it black or just a bit of creamer or milk. Rick could almost hear the cavities in his mouth being born.

Hunching forward, he set the cup down beside his chair and then set back again, holding his son's hand and staring at him.

After a good hour or so, Rick left the infirmary and went in search of Georgie before remembering Carol mentioning she'd seen her with the construction crew at the fallen wall.

With that bowlegged strut of his, Rick made his way toward the lower road by the solar panels and spotted Georgie almost immediately. Carol was right in that the ginger's hair was hard to miss. It was so bouncy from her naturally loose curls and as bright orange as Abraham's. And, speaking of which, that was who Rick greeted first, while maintaining a careful eye on his lover.

"Abraham," he greeted.

The burly ginger turned and smiled at him. "Morning, Rick. How's your boy."

"Still out, but Denise's certain he'll pull through. We just gotta wait to see how he'll be once he's awake." Rick shrugged and made a flippant hand gesture out of mild stress. "There could be memory loss and shit like that."

"Well, I hope not. I hope he pulls through."

"As do I." A moment later, he nodded in Georgie's direction. "She shouldn't be this active," he noted, watching as she was drilling a few screws into the beam running alongside the new panel that had been propped up. "She's still healing from a gunshot wound. She should be resting."

Just as he spoke those words, it must've been that Georgie's ears were ringing. Turning around, she looked over her shoulder toward Rick and when he lifted his hand to wave at her, she looked away and he frowned.

"Don't worry. I got my eye on her," Abraham assured. "Plus, she already ignored me when I told her what you just told me."

Rick glanced up at the larger man and just studied his face for a moment before shaking his head and turning back toward Georgie's direction. "I'm just worried for her."

"As any good man would be about the woman he loves." Slapping Rick a bit roughly on the back between the shoulder blades, Abraham continued, "She's working through her grief right now. But if she overworks herself, I'll be sure to throw her over my shoulder and bring her right home to ya; kicking and screaming if I have to."

Rick smirked a little. "I appreciate that. I do. And somehow I don't doubt that's what you would literally do, too."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've thrown a pretty lady over my shoulder and it won't be the last."

Despite his conflicted mood, Rick chuckled and it felt really good to. He needed more opportunities to find amusement and joy in his life, and right now those opportunities felt like they were seriously lacking.

Once he was sure for himself that Georgie seemed fine, at least physically, Rick took his leave and took the long way home to sort through his thoughts. He walked the inside perimeter, noting Tara manning one of the watch posts with Spencer while Michonne was manning another with Sasha. Daryl, Glenn and Heath were back at loading up the piles of walkers and taking them outside the walls and when he offered to join them, Daryl shot him down; insisting they had a handle on it and that Rick's priority right now was to take care of and be with his family.

Acquiescing, Rick eventually made his way home, waving to the Millers who sat on their porch as they had the first full day Rick's group spent in Alexandria. The old couple just sat there, watching everyone working and he couldn't help but think about all the things they must've seen in their lifetime and how living in the world now was like for them. He was also quite jealous of them. The world didn't fall apart until their twilight years. They'd hit all of life's important milestones and been able to grow old together. Everyone else in the community and in the world in general could only be so lucky.

Giving the Millers a wave as he walked by, he then focused on just going home to grab a shower and spend time with Judith.

And that was exactly what he did. Rick sat with Judith in the living room, letting her literally crawl all over him. He picked her up and tossed her into the air; the way she giggled sounding like music to his ears. He blew raspberries on her stomach which made her laugh so hard she farted, which in turn made him laugh. That was until he realized it wasn't just a fart, and that she had actually shit herself. The stench that almost immediately offended his nostrils, he was sure, was comparable to the rotting flesh of the walkers that were baking in the sun and waiting to be removed from within the community.

When it was time for Judith's lunch, he made that for her and then sat with her upstairs in her room, reading her a book until her full stomach and the sound of his voice lulled her to sleep. Carefully and quietly, he set her down in her playard and came downstairs to turn on the baby monitor so he could watch her as she slept, but his mind was quickly distracted by everything else again.

As soon as Michonne came home from her shift atop the watch post, he tasked her with staying with Judith while he went back out to help with anything by this point. Rick just really needed to feel productive, and he needed a decent excuse to keep an eye on Georgie for himself.

Since the construction crew had enough hands on deck and Daryl, Glenn and Heath had a handle on the walker removal, he joined Aaron, Eric, Olivia, Scott and a few others with a different kind of cleaning up. The blood on the streets they would leave to the next rain storm to wash away, but there was plenty of blood staining porches and inside, random debris that needed picking up and glass that need sweeping. It was enough to keep Rick feeling useful and not like he wasn't contributing when everyone else was. Plus, he could still take the time to step away and check in on Carl a couple more times and glimpse Georgie from a safe distance without seeming like he was hovering.

That night, before heading home, Rick followed after Georgie when he saw her making her way to the infirmary. Once he caught up with her, he gently grabbed onto her wrist just before she stepped inside Carl's recovery room.

"Georgie," he muttered.

Her eyes panned down at his hand and her shoulders slumped. "What?"

It was the first word she'd spoken to him since the afternoon before when he'd left her alone in the graveyard. "Are you okay?"

"Just…please don't."

"Don't what?"

"I don't want to talk right now."

Rick frowned. He didn't let go of her wrist right away; instead pulling her closer to him so he could press the tip of his nose against the side of her face. He didn't say anything. He just nuzzled her cheek slightly and then kissed her temple. As his grip sipped from her wrist, he watched as she looked briefly up at him and then turned away to head in to sit with Carl.

Looking down at his feet, Rick looked over toward the archway to one of the other rooms and found Tara standing there rather sheepishly; clearly having witnessed the exchange between the couple.

"Denise done with her shift?" he inquired.

The brunette nodded, shoving her hands into her pockets and stepping forward. "Yeah, just a few minutes ago. I was gonna take a shift to watch Carl, but Georgie stopped in earlier and said she wanted to sit with him tonight," she informed quietly so her voice didn't carry into the other room. "I was just about to head home."

"Yeah, it's been a long day."

"Yeah," she agreed. "How you holding up?"

Rick shrugged. "I've been better."

"Well, Carl will get better and then you'll be better, too, soon enough." With a nod of her head, Tara gestured to the recovery room Georgie and Carl were in. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, she added, "And she will, too. She just needs time."

"I know," he agreed, just as quietly. "I just get this impression like she's mad at me, as if maybe she thinks I should've or could've done more to prevent what happened to Tristan. And I feel like maybe she's bitter or envious about how my kids are still alive while hers ain't."

Tara shook her head adamantly. "No, you can't think that way. She sees Carl and Judith as her own flesh and blood and definitely loves them the same as you."

Rick sighed, knowing Tara's words to be true.

Without saying anything further but offering a gracious smile, Rick turned from Tara. Moving toward the doorway to the recovery room, he stole a glimpse inside and saw Georgie seated in the bedside chair. She was holding Carl's right hand in both of hers as she sat hunched forward with her head resting against her outstretched arms.

The scene was both heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time.

Knowing both his son and his girlfriend would be okay with each other for the night, Rick stepped back from the room and made his way out of the infirmary.

Only a few hours later, Rick was lying sprawled out on his bed with his left arm dangling off the edge and his mouth wide open as he snored. He was in such a deep sleep that he never heard his bedroom door open.

"Rick," a voice called out, trying to rouse him from his slumber.

When that didn't seem to work, whoever was in his room reached down and slapped at his errant arm.

"Rick, wake up."

Like he had the night before due to that nightmare, Rick bolted upright in bed and went to swing at the intruder, only to see that it was Michonne as soon as his tired blue eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Michonne?" Off her nod, he frowned. "What's going on?"

There was a glimmer of a smile in both her eyes and on her lips. "It's Carl," she replied. "He's awake."