A/N: Trigger warning: character death.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
– – –
Maggie walked barefoot over the sun-warmed earth, her cardigan slipping off her shoulder at the warm air blowing over her. A sting of ice followed as spring was only just beginning, and she shivered somewhat before lowering herself down before the freshly placed gravestone. The glazed, firm wood stood tall, the etched flowers curling out from the baby's given last name: Rhee. Baby Rhee. Glenn had made the headstone when the snow melted from the strongest tree Daryl could find. He cut it down himself and made it all on his own for their unborn baby. The flowers were perfect, though, as he worked on the discarded wood the construction crew left behind for months. He didn't tell Maggie. He didn't tell anyone, only Daryl and Abe when he needed a tree and assistance lugging it back to the town. He surprised Maggie with it a few days after they returned from Hilltop with the news.
She was pregnant. 12 weeks today, and her risk of miscarrying had shrunken. She had no bouts of morning sickness yet, but she could feel her body changing—stretching to make room. She prayed every night for this life inside of her, Glenn and Enid by her side, and she felt...bittersweet in every sense of the word. It filled her lungs and surged through her blood. It danced along her eyelids and ran down her cheeks. It warmed her chest and froze her heart.
She held the sonogram of her baby in both hands, the tall grass hugging her legs, and her fingertips ran over the black and white image before returning to hold it. Firmly, as to keep it in her hands and not blown off by the wind.
"Hey, baby," the hushed, strained whisper came from her lips, "it's been too long since I've been to see you. Nearly...ten months, I think. Carol wasn't usin' the calendar I gave her, so she was a few weeks later than the date we set, so...yeah, just about ten months now..."
She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. "I don't know what to make of what's happened. I don't think...I ever will, but I do know that I can't lose your sibling, too. And I know it seems cruel—" her voice broke. "—to ask you to protect your sibling in a way that I—I didn't protect you, but...please, please, I need you. I know...it's a lot, and it may be too much, but I can't do this alone."
She couldn't ask God. She wasn't sure what His plan was for her, if He even had one, and God had let her down too many times to count. But her family? Mom, Daddy, Annette, Beth, Shawn—as long as they had been by her side, they had never let her down when she truly needed them. They were always by her side, perhaps even now, and she needed them to be with her baby now. Both of them, and she would pray that they would guide this baby and help it grow, help her body be stronger, and so when the time came, she would give birth to a strong and healthy baby, and the only tears would be joyful ones. She couldn't bear any other outcome. Glenn couldn't. And honestly, they shouldn't have to face another harsh end. It felt selfish, but hadn't they endured enough? Hadn't they?
A heavy gust of wind tugged at the photo in her hands, she felt she should have shuddered, but it was almost like the wind...went around her. As though someone was standing beside her, blocking the wind. She looked over and lifted her hand for a moment to see if maybe something was there, but her hand passed through. She felt a little silly, especially when the next gust blew hair in her face, and she chuckled, rubbing tears from her eyes.
"Okay." She steadied herself and set the sonogram down on the grass with a rock to weigh it down. She set a hand on the ground, palm on the cool earth, fingers on the sonogram. "My babies... I love you both, and I can't to hold you both when the time comes. Rest and know peace until our eyes meet, my angels."
––
"Are you sure this isn't...counting your chickens before the hatch?" Tara leaned against the door frame, arms crossed.
"No." Glenn shook his head, turning to face her. "It's...hope."
"Hope?" Tara entered the makeshift nursery. "How do you mean?"
"We lost our last baby," Glenn replied. "I didn't do enough, and Maggie didn't stay safe. I know it wasn't that cut and dry, but it feels like we were to blame. We put ourselves in bad situations. That's a lot of negativity, so...I'm putting positive energy into us both now with this. Hope is the strongest positive I know."
Enid looked up from her spot on the floor, pausing in wrestling to put sheets on the little mattress. It was not easier than putting it on a large mattress. Fitted sheets were utter bitches. And this might not be the right size, but it was the end of the world. It wasn't like Babies R Us was around. "That's beautiful, Glenn."
He smiled softly, bitter sweetly. "It's just me hoping hope works. Me hoping that I can put my child down to sleep in this bed. Me hoping that I get to read them to sleep and kiss their forehead. Me hoping that I can be the kind of father my mom was to me and that Hershel was to Maggie. Me hoping that...good things can still come."
Tara returned his smile. "You will get good things. I know it."
"I mean, you guys got me, so you must be pretty lucky," Enid teased.
Glenn chuckled. "Yeah, I think...our luck really turned around when we got you."
Enid smiled widely at him and hopped up to hug him tightly. "I love you, too, Glenn."
He stroked her hair and chuckled once more. "I love you, Enid, and I'm glad you're here. You're going to be a great big sister."
"And I'm gonna kill it as aunt." Tara thrust her thumbs at herself and then joined in and made it a group hug.
"Glenn!" It was a loud and panicked scream from Maggie outside the window.
"Oh, God." He flew to the window and had Tara and Enid smack into each other, but they hastily recovered and met him by the window. "What happened?"
Down below was Maggie still barefoot, still half wearing that cardigan, wearing a massive excited smile. She laughed at this question and covered it with her fingertips, palms brushing her neck. She tripped backwards a few times and lowered her hands, trying to not burst from the happiness.
"He's comin'!" she shouted up. "He's—he's comin'!"
"He's coming?" Tara frowned. "Who the hell could be coming to make her so happy—Oh, my god! He's coming!"
"Baby Dixon!" Enid gasped and ran to the door. "Come on!"
"Godson inbound." Tara laughed and lightly hit Glenn's shoulder, following Enid out the door.
"He's coming..." The bittersweet edge to all of his smiles lately faded as a genuine grin crossed his lips, and he ran after Tara and Enid.
He caught up to them at the clinic, Rick and Michonne were already there, Denise and Neva were making the expectant mother comfortable, and Daryl was hanging out in the living room with Rick and Michonne. Maggie entered the house shortly after Glenn, and they asked Daryl what was going on. He filled them in on breakfast and her contractions. They were just getting her comfortable in on the gurney, and Neva insisted they do it alone. He didn't want to fight, so he just let them.
"All right. She's all covered up." Denise opened the door and showed them in. "And still in a good mood."
"Bet that changes as things move along." Michonne smiled at Carol as she took her hand. "Still a bitch?"
"Yeah, but at least I don't have a drunk breathing on me." She inhaled.
Rick cleared his throat. "Is there anythin' you want? Or need?"
"I'd love it if you could have this baby for me," she remarked. "Save me the next...ten hours of my life. Give or take. I'm rooting for take, but...who knows."
"Yeah, Rick, you heard the woman," Michonne teased. "Have this baby boy for her."
"If I could...I still probably wouldn't," he admitted. "I wasn't built for it like y'all, and I probably wouldn't do too good."
"At least you were honest. Doesn't mean much, but points for the honesty." Carol adjusted the sheet over her hip.
Maggie smiled. "How do you feel? That's a stupid question to ask, isn't it?" She shook her head.
"No, it's not, and I'm...nervous and excited. I can't tell which is...leading, but they're both prominent." She set a hand on her belly. "I just can't wait to hold him and tell him how much I love him."
"That makes three of us." Maggie moved beside Daryl to nudge him slightly in the ribs. "Right, Dad?"
He flushed. "Don't call me that."
"But it's true." Glenn tucked his hands into his hoodie pocket. "You're gonna be a dad."
"Or a papa," Enid chimed in. "Papa Dixon."
"Pops," Rick added.
Daryl shook his head. "He ain't callin' me Pops or Papa."
"So...Daddy?" Carol said it innocently enough, but for some reason, Daryl's face turned blood red.
Maggie bit her tongue to keep from laughing. "Um...do y'all...er, have an outfit for baby boy?"
"Or a name?" Enid sat down on the stool and slid it over to the bed. "Baby boy is cute and all, but I'd like to call him by his name one day."
"Yeah, we actually do have a name." Carol reached over and clasped Daryl's hand, lacing her fingers through his. "Want to tell them? It is your name."
He nodded and looked at the faces of his family who were brimming with anticipation. "Our son's name is Greyson."
"Greyson Toby Dixon," Carol added. "Toby for Tobin. He helped bring us this life, and we wanted to honor that. Honor him."
"That's awesome." Maggie grinned. "Really, Tobin would be happy to hear you say that."
"Aww." Enid stepped closer. "How sweet."
"It's a good name," Rick tossed in. "Bet he'll come out lookin' like a Greyson."
"Well, he better, because if he comes out looking like an Ed, we're all screwed," Glenn commented softly, trying not to let Carol hear, but she did anyway.
Carol couldn't help but bust out laughing at that, a tiny spark of fear welling up inside of her, doused out quickly by Daryl squeezing her hand, and she covered her mouth with her other hand, unable to control herself. If this baby came out looking like that nightmare, she would have to pass out or cry. It wasn't possible, not even Sophia looked like Ed, but if this world was cruel...
"I'm so sorry, Carol. I don't know where that came from." Glenn instantly made to apologize. "I didn't mean—"
"No, it's okay." She composed herself. "My genes are pretty strong. Sophia came out looking just like my baby photos. Her brother likely won't be any different."
"That's how my Andre was like," Michonne told her, smiling fondly at remembering that precious face. "All me."
Rick looked at her, perplexed at that statement.
Daryl's face contorted at the tightened grip on his hand, Carol's eyes squeezed shut, her jaw screwing shut, and Maggie escorted Glenn and Enid out of the room. Michonne rubbed her knee briefly before leaving herself with Rick, saying they'd be back, and Daryl was left with Neva. She came over and grasped Carol's other hand, reminding her to breathe.
"I forgot how much this hurts," Carol strained. "Funny. I never thought I would've."
"I'm sure you've experienced more pain since then." Neva helped her sit up and ran her hand down Carol's back to the base of her spine. "Here."
Carol's pain instantly eased up, and she panted. "W—what the hell?" She loosened her grip on her husband's hand, and Daryl was grateful. "What are you doing?"
Neva smiled at her. "Pressure points. There's not much we can do to about your pain, but I can do this now and then."
"I appreciate it. Really." She peeked at Daryl. "So does he."
"I'm doin' fine," he grumbled.
"Just...lookin' a bit blue there." Neva pointed to his brusing hand.
"Had worse." He shrugged.
Neva chuckled and removed her fingers, letting Carol lean back. "I'll get you some ice. Worse comes to worse, you can throw them at the wall."
Carol smirked. "Oh, do you mean it?"
"Yes, but only because I know you won't." She smirked back. "We'll just use it to reduce Daryl's hand swelling."
"Thanks for thinkin' about me, I guess."
"Yup." She walked out.
Carol peered at him. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay." He sat down in the stool Enid had brought over. "You?"
"Praying this is over soon." She had a feeling it wasn't going to be. Sophia was about 38 hours. She hoped this didn't last that long. It had been brutal to deliver her sweet angel. It was worth it, but honestly, 8 hours would have been just fine with her.
"How long did it go on for Sophia?"
"Thirty-eight hours."
His nose scrunched, and his eyes widened, brows shooting up. "Damn."
"Yes, damn. So many damns. It was awful. It was basically me and the nurse, and it...still sucked ass." She couldn't think of any other way to word it. "Recovery was not easy."
He was instantly reminded of the story she told her about that fuckwad asshole ex of hers, and his stomach twisted. "I'll be here for you," he assured her. "It won't be...like that. You'll get to rest."
She smiled and let go of his hand to cup his cheek. "I know it won't be like before, and I'll still—"
"No." He was gentle in interrupting her. "You made a baby and are gonna push it outta you. You aren't gonna do a lot right away. I'll take over. It's my job anyway. I'm a...dad, and I'm gonna be a good one. A good husband, too, so you'll rest, and me and the little dude will fair just fine on our own."
She stroked his cheek. "Okay, but unless your breasts can produce milk, I'll need to help out, too."
He smiled. "Just with that, though," he whispered. "Least for a month."
"Wow, a whole month? No extra baby stuff? No late night diaper changing?"
"Yeah, and I mean it." He caught her hand and kissed her palm, rubbing it into her skin with his thumb. "But once it's up, it's both of us, all right?"
"I love the sound of that—you and me. Us." Her eyes flashed, and she moistened her lips. "I wish I had...more time with you."
"What do you mean?"
"I...wish I could've realized how I felt sooner. I wish...I had back all those weeks and months and just had...been with you." She shook her head. "I know we have now, but...if I could have known how happy I could have been..."
"Hey, don't." He shook his head now. "You said it: everything happens for a reason. Who knows how we would have ended up if we were together before now. And who knows if Greyson would have even happened."
"I feel like I wasted—"
"Stop." He wouldn't let her finish. "Stop. It's the past, and we're not going to dwell there. Our son's gonna be here, and I don't even want to consider any path that might erase him. Okay? Greyson is...everythin' to me, so is his mom." He smiled at her. "Don't go there. I don't regret anythin'."
She returned his smile, tears in her eyes. "With you, I have no regrets either."
He leaned over and kissed her forehead.
––
Michonne looked over the nursery Daryl and Carol had set up for Greyson, and she adjusted the sheets, feeling the soft teddy bear resting on the covers. She smiled and plucked it from the crib, holding it in her arms. She remembered all the shopping she did for Andre. She wished it had amounted to more than it had, but...that was life. You were dealt things you had no choice but to lose to either help you grow; or...to remind you that life was unforgiving and often cold, but...light and happiness could still be found after such agony. She had made peace, but...she wished she didn't have to. She didn't know where he'd fit into her life today, but God, what she wouldn't give for even a glimpse of that life.
Rick knocked on the wall. "Hey."
"Hey." She turned to him. "Any news?"
Rick had given Denise a walkie talkie to contact them when the baby was crowning. They wanted to give Carol and Daryl space. It wasn't a walk in the park to give birth, and no one wanted to crowd them. There were still things they could be doing while they waited, after all, and that was what brought Michonne here. She was ensuring the nursery was ready for the newborn—of course, it was—and Rick was here to ask about Andre. Of course he was.
"No." His hand still hovered over the walkie on his belt. "Neva thinks it'll be a while before we hear anything."
"I wouldn't doubt it." She inhaled. "Go ahead and ask me, Rick. I appreciate the small talk, I do, but let's cut to the chase."
"You had a son?"
She nodded. "I did. For three years."
He swallowed. "How...?"
"It wasn't unlike how Lori died." She moistened her lips. "Only it wasn't an asshole playing with vengeance. It was an irresponsible father and family friend and...a horde."
"I'm sorry."
"Me, too." She set the teddy bear down in the crib. "I try not to think about Andre. He was a part of who I used to be and who I am now, but..."
"I get it."
"I don't think you can." She met his eyes. "There isn't anything that compares to losing a child. It might sound selfish, given all that you've lost, but...Carl and Judy? They are still strong and breathing. They have a chance to grow up, to pass on the lessons you taught them, to...continue all that your family has ever been. My son...is gone, and all of that is too. Same for his father. An idiot or not, I loved him, and that love...filled our son..."
He nodded slowly. "I...think I've said I understand situations that I really don't, because it's...become a habit. I had to do it as an officer of the law, and...I had to do it when we brought in new people, and I could relate to it. Most, if not all of it, but what you and Carol and Maggie and Glenn went through? I hope to never...be in that position. I'm sorry if I was insensitive."
"It's all right. I hope you never are in that position." She closed the space between them and grasped his hands. "And I have Judith and Carl now, and while it's not the same as my baby boy, it's just as good and just as full of love. It means the world to me—our little family." She smiled at him. "I wouldn't change what we have for the world."
"I love you."
She leaned up and kissed him. "I love you, too."
He freed his hands to wrap his arms around her and embrace her. Her arms curled around his shoulders, and he buried his face in her neck. "We might have shared blood and unending love," he whispered against her skin, "but we weren't a family again until you came into our lives. You made us...whole."
"You all made me whole, too." She smiled widely against his shirt. "Everything I fight for, everything that keeps me on my feet and coming back each time is you and our family. At my darkest hour, you three...bring me back from the brink and give me the strength to fight everything in my way."
It was his turn to give a massive grin, and he pulled her even closer. "Me, too."
She pulled back and grasped the walkie from his belt, moving over to the crib and contacting Denise. "Any news?"
Rick cocked his head to the side.
"Nope. Her contractions aren't getting any closer, and I'm positive it's going to be...a while. I've already prepared a nap schedule for me and Neva to be sure one of us is awake and alert with Carol at all times. Why? Is something going on? Should I bring my spear?"
"No. It's all good. I...have a spear of my own to work on." She tossed the walkie into the crib and approached Rick, who was smirking until she kissed it away, leading him out of the room and helping him out of his clothes.
– – –
"Sit still you." Eric caught Eli by the waist and sat her down in his lap, wrapping his arms around her torso to keep her still. Aaron stood beside him with his hands in his pockets, and Eric figured that was as good as he was going to get. At least for now.
"No news on Carol," Aaron told Eric.
"I know." He didn't look up. "That's not why we're here, though."
"It's not?" He looked at his boyfriend. "Then why are we here?"
"Tobin was a friend of ours. He didn't...whisper about us behind our backs like we're in junior high. He was straight with us. He treated us like people. He deserves that now." He looked at the marker for Tobin's grave. "It's an important moment. His son will be born."
"Not anytime soon." Aaron crouched down beside him nevertheless. "Greyson seems to be as slow moving as his pops."
Eric smirked. "It would appear so. She's been in it for four hours and no change."
Aaron chuckled. "Speaking of four hours, do you remember when Tobin locked himself in the shed? He went to put up some tools, and it was before we fixed the lock, and he trapped himself by accident?" He laughed. "He was so thankful to be let out be almost kissed Nick? I'm pretty sure he tried to kiss the sun itself."
"Stop it." He was chuckling himself, though. "He was dehydrated and out of it."
"Still hilarious." He hugged his arms. "Aiden would have paid good money for a camera that day. Hell, me too."
Eric inhaled. "We've lost a lot of people since that day."
"It comes with the territory of the new world." He met his eyes. "But it won't happen to us."
"How can you be sure? The odds for happiness and a long life just aren't in the cards for anybody in this world."
"I'm sure because what kind of world...lets a sweet angel live and finally find a good home where she can grow up to be morally good and strong just to snatch away that family?"
"This world."
"Well, fuck this world then. It won't happen. I won't let it happen." He grasped Eric's chin and tenderly pulled him closer, kissing his temple. "Not to us."
Eric smiled weakly. "If you say so."
"I do say so, and so does Eli. It's two against one, so just suck it up and go along with it."
"All right." His smile became a bit more bright, and he hugged Eli closer. "I want to do something for Greyson for Tobin, but I don't know what to do. I thought coming here would help me figure it out, but it just breaks my heart. This world...took away a father before he could even see his child. It's so brutal."
"He has another father to help raise him and guide him. One day, I'm sure Greyson will figure out who and what Tobin is to him. All we can do is be sure he knows who that man really was."
"He was a coward who left Francine to die," Eric remarked, "but acknowledge his cowardice and stepped down so that the construction crew would have a lead that was willing and able to keep them safe. He tried his best to overcome that weakness of his, and I'm damn sure he was able to do just that in the end."
"Not all heros wear capes," Aaron mused softly.
"I think it's important that Greyson know his natural father wasn't fearless and instictively strong and a leader."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because not everyone is born with the skills and heart to lead and be both emotionally and physically strong, but that's okay. You can learn how to be strong, how to not run away, and I believe that's an important lesson for kids to learn. Being afraid is okay. It's human, but it's not...all you are. You can change that part of yourself. You can always change for the better. It's a beautiful lesson. A forgiving one. I want Eli to learn that, too."
"Then we'll teach it to her." He set his hand on Eli's head, brushing soft hairs from her face, and she whipped her head around to look at who was touching her. A big smile broke out on her little face, and she reached for him. He grasped her hand and shook his head. She made a face but accepted his hand—into her mouth. She liked to chew on him. He was learning to deal with it. To a point.
"Dad and chew toy," Eric mused.
"I didn't sign on for this, but...I'm grateful it occurred."
"Good things can happen."
"Yeah, I wasn't waiting for this. Maybe for you, but not the slobber express over here."
Eric beamed. "Oh, you were waiting for me?"
"Do you have a problem with that?" He peeked at him.
"Never." He kissed him. "C'mon, let's go find some photos of Tobin to put in the baby's room."
"C'mere." He took Eli from Eric so he could stand up, and the toddler made another face. A very disapproving face. She had gotten comfortable and did not appreciate being moved. Or having her toy taken away. "You are so expressive for a two-year-old, you know that?"
"An old soul is among us." Eric snickered and adjusted Eli's loose shoe.
"Probably. If she's anything like her mother."
"What do you know about her mother?" Eric glanced at him.
"Neva talks about her to Morgan all the time. I...was passing by, and I heard some nice things. Josephine was a sweet girl, and if this kid is anything like her, we're gonna be real lucky."
"Luckier," Eric corrected. "We're pretty damn lucky now."
"That's true." He reached down and interlaced their fingers together. "So, I'll just watch Eli while you glue it all together?"
"Ha! Cute. She's going in the pen."
He made a face now and showed it to Eli, who giggled. "Now that just ain't fair."
"Neither is life, honey." Eric led the way back to their house where tons and tons of Polaroids laid waiting for them.
––
Rosita walked across the porch to where Spencer was sitting with a bottle, and she dropped down beside him, taking the bottle from between his legs and drinking from it. He didn't even object, just sent her a look, and she leaned back, happily accepting the bottle as her own now.
"How's life on this side of town?" She crossed her legs and drank deeply, enjoying the burning it sent down her throat.
"Fine." He reached for the bottle, but she didn't let him take it. "I was working on a gift for Carol."
"Oh, really?" She arched a brow at him. "Why? You don't even know her."
"Doesn't matter if I do or don't. It's...a nice thing to do."
"Hmm. Do tell."
"She carried a life inside of her for nine months, and that boy's going to be born into the world. If that doesn't deserve a gift, I don't know what does." He snatched the bottle back as politely as he could with her refusing to give it up. "And my mom really liked her, so I'm doing it for her."
"You're still trying to live as your mother, Norman?"
He bitterly smirk. "No."
"Good." She hopped up and headed into his house.
"Hey! Where are you going?" He went after her.
"To see this "gift"." She scanned the living room and spotted a basket on the table. "This it?"
"I'm not done with it. I took a break."
"A booze break." She smirked at him. "You haven't changed much."
"So I like to drink now and then. It's not a crime."
"No, it's not." She sat on the couch and looked over the items in the basket. "You really loved your mom, didn't you?"
"I loved my entire family a lot. We were close."
"That's sweet." She sucked in a breath and pulled out the bottle of lotion specially made for newborns and toddlers. "Hmm. Where did you get this?"
"Aiden brought back some useless junk now and then. It has some use now."
"Well, lotion's not totally useless for a dude." She placed it back inside the basket and leaned back on the couch.
Spencer set the bottle on the table. "Why are you here?"
"Well, I finished my shift on the wall, and I'm not due back until tomorrow night. And everyone else I hang with is either helping Carol through contractions, or they're out doing construction until the sun sets." She crossed her arms. "And I'm bored."
"I'm sorry. I don't feel like entertaining you."
"I didn't ask you to. I came to talk." She straightened up and met his eyes. "We haven't really talked since I went off on you, and I wanted to know how you were doing since then. Still drinking, I can see, but mentally? How...are you? Honestly?"
He cleared his throat before sitting down beside her. "You...were right about me. I...I was being selfish. Obstinate and foolish. I acted like I was the only one in the world who knew that kind of total loss and isolation. I'm not the first or even the hundredth. I understand that, and I'm coming to terms with it. It's not easy. God, is it not easy, but I'm trying. I really am. I just...worry I won't get anywhere."
"Why wouldn't you get anywhere?"
"Beyond self-preservation, Rosita, I have nothing." He shrugged his shoulders despairingly. "I put on a good show for the people here, but they don't know me. I don't know them. They knew my parents, who went out of their way to get to know each and every person here, but I didn't see a point to it. I played the part of the good son, the helpful neighbor, but that's all it was. I was playing pretend, and it became so real..."
"But then came Rick who tore that all down, and that caused my family to be torn away from me. One by one, I lost the most important people in my life, and I lost myself. I still haven't figure out what's left of me without them. I'm not sure there is anything. They were my entire world, my safety net, and all of that's gone." He lowered his eyes. "I've been out there. I've seen those things and killed them. I've dealt with Pentaghast and her men. I... I just don't... I can't..."
"You can't what?" She studied him.
"How do you wake up and want to be a part of this world?" His eyes shined with tears. "I'm trying to answer that question, but nothing comes to mind anymore. I feel like I'm empty. Like I'm nothing but skin and bones, and all the human aspect we're born with, all of the joy and laughter and sense of being alive, have been ripped out of me. I'm nothing."
"You don't want to wake up anymore?"
"I hate waking up," he confessed, pressing his knuckles against his forehead. "I knew the world was harsh and vindictive, but it's too much. I can't handle it. I can't breathe from weight of it. And I'm not sure I even want to. Maybe I should just let it crush me."
"You don't mean that."
"How do you know I don't? You don't know me, Rosita. You're nothing like me. You're a natural born survivor. You're fearless when it counts, and you're resourceful. There's nothing this world can throw at you that you can't throw right back at it and still have the strength to tell it to fuck off."
"I do what I have to do, and I get pissed at the world. That's understandable. This world fucked us all over, so I have every right to say fuck you right back at it. That doesn't make me a badass. It's just me."
"And just you wakes up and has the will to want to stay, to go out there and keep us safe. You have the energy to be alive and to want to continue on. I don't anymore. I just...am here, but I'm not here, too."
"I know that feeling."
"How could you?"
"Because, dummy, I'm not as strong as you think I am. I paint a good picture, because I have to. Falling apart isn't...appropriate when assholes are setting people on fire in your town or holding you hostage. I have to push forward. I can't afford to dwell...but sometimes I do. I regret that I let myself get so far down, because the climb back up that ladder is...such a challenge. I sometimes think I won't make it. That my arms will give out, because how can I get that high just to be knock down again and again and again. It's exhausting, and I always wind up back at the same point. It can take days or weeks or even months, but eventually I end up at the same low point. And I can't breathe. I can't move, and I don't want to. I want the entire world to stop, and I want...it all over, but...it won't just be over. It'll never be over." She rubbed at her eye when tears started to form. "Getting over it all is impossible when the shit keeps coming down on you, but I can't let it hold me back from doing what needs to be done. Because if I do that...someone might die, and I can't have that on my soul. I can't take another death. I really can't."
"What...if it was mine?" he darkly mused. "You wouldn't miss me."
"I would miss you, asshole." She glared at him. "You can't just take yourself out of this world and honestly expect no one to notice, or miss you, because that just doesn't fucking happen ever."
"I was pretty sure you hated me."
"I hated myself for stooping so low, or leading you on, but I don't hate you."
He was quiet for a moment before daring to ask, "Do you still hate yourself?"
"No, but I have a lot of anger." She inhaled. "I don't know how to get rid of it. I don't know where half of it belongs. I can't assign a name to most of it. It's simply there inside of me like this massive wildfire all the time."
"Most people turn to sorrow. You turn to anger."
"I don't naturally turn to anger, but when people fuck you over so many times, you stop being sad and just plan to get even. It's normal."
"But what do you do with the leftover rage?"
"You hollow out. It has to consume something, right?" She leaned over and picked up the bottle, drinking from it.
"It doesn't have to."
"Oh, right, 'cause you're one to talk."
"I know I'm not one to talk, but you could find an outlet."
"Bring me every person whoever screwed me and my family over, and then we'll talk about this."
"Something tells me there isn't enough room in Alexandria for that." He took the bottle to have a drink himself and handed it back to her.
"You're not wrong." She brought the bottle up to her lips and tipped it back.
"I can't help you, and you can't help me. We're both better off talking to a qualified professional."
"I don't think Denise can help me."
"You never know." He rubbed his hands together. "She's a good person, and she'd make time for you."
"I know she would, but I don't think I can unload all of my thoughts onto such a good person." She exhaled. "They're...mangled and fucked up." She swallowed more booze.
"You shouldn't say no before trying."
"Why don't you talk to her then?"
"I'm going to. I can't go on like this." He locked his eyes in hers. "I woke up today and gave myself a choice: eat a bullet or make a gift basket for Carol. I didn't have a craving for lead, so here I am."
She chuckled, though a lump formed in her throat. "Good choice."
"I'm not so sure, but that's why I'm gonna speak to Denise."
"Well, then here's to you living and not just surviving." She held up the bottle and dropped it in the trashcan beside her.
"Hey!"
"The first step to recovery is throwing the temptation away." She crossed her legs. "Besides if there's no booze, I won't be tempted to come over here."
"And here I thought we could be friends."
She laughed. "Friends?"
"Just because we've seen each other naked doesn't mean we can't be friends."
"Yes, it does."
"Why?"
"Because I used you, and I'm not proud of that. I can't be friends with you until I move passed that."
"I thought you already had."
"Yeah, I had, but I think I might fall back on a bad habit." She rested her chin on her knuckles. "I'm going to keep an eye on you, and...I'm not really in the mood for conversation."
"That doesn't mean something will happen."
"Yeah, but it makes my job easier if I wear you out instead of hiding all the knives."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Then I'll just have to hide all the knives and drag Denise over here."
He chuckled. "I didn't think you cared so much."
"I'm full of surprises." She nudged his rib with her elbow and smirked at him. "C'mon, let's finish this basket."
– – –
"Is it over yet?" Carol pushed her hair back from her face, seeing the sun setting through the window.
"Not quite." Neva pulled the sheet down.
"God. Am I even close?" Carol dropped her hands and sat up as best she could without Daryl's help. "It's been hours, and I am exhausted. I don't think I can keep this up for much longer."
"You can. You're doing great." She smiled encouragingly at her. "You're dilated at about four."
"About?"
"It's going to be a bit before Greyson is ready to make his appearance, but both your vitals are strong. You're both in great shape, okay? It's just...going to take time."
She huffed. "How much more time?"
"I don't know. We'll try some physical activities in the morning, and we'll try and get that number up. For now, just try and get some rest."
Neva departed from the room, Daryl returned with food, and Carol heaved a sigh at the thought of this stretching into another day. She rolled her head to the side as Daryl offered a supportive smile, and she faintly returned it, pushing herself into an upright position, and he handed her a fork. She wasn't entirely hungry, but she might as well try and eat something, especially since she had been at this for most of the day. God, she didn't know how people did this before modern medicine. She missed the epidural.
"What'd Neva say?"
"Only confirmed that we're not going to meet Greyson anytime soon." She pushed peas around on her plate, sighing softly. "Sophia took her time, but I had doctors and medicine to make it easier."
Daryl pursed his lips. "Wish I could do more."
"You're here, and that's a lot." She smiled at him. "And...it's not something you can help me with. Childbirth is all on me."
"Is there anything we can do? To move things along?"
"Yeah, Neva mentioned doing them in the morning."
"Why not now?" Daryl frowned.
"Honestly, I think Denise is on the night shift and needs more rest." She stabbed peas with her fork and brought them to her mouth. "And honestly, I'd rather have Neva who studied to do this."
"Ain't that harsh?" Daryl didn't like the implications there.
"I didn't mean for it to be." Her eyes fell into his as she explained. "I respect Denise and trust her, but...Neva has both trained for this and actually given birth. I feel a bit more comfortable with her. And while she doesn't have drugs, she has her fingers."
Daryl snorted at that, nearly choking on an inappropriate chuckle and his dinner.
She shook her head. "I mean the pressure point thing, prev."
"You're the one who wanted me to go down on you at the prison when I was just offerin' to help you off the bus," he playfully protested.
"I was serious about that," Carol informed him.
His brows shot up. "You were? I...thought you were just teasin' me."
"Partly, but...mostly I was serious." She drank a bit of water. "Although I'm glad you didn't. I don't think either of us would have been ready for a relationship back then. Considering all that followed."
"I would've killed Rick," Daryl admitted. "When he told me about you and Karen and David. I nearly knocked him on his ass, but I really would've hurt him if he did that and we were together. Lovin' you as much as I do now...there's no way I would have just let it go."
"Rick did what he thought was best."
"He was wrong."
"I didn't say he was right," she whispered. "Everyone makes mistakes. We have to forgive them for it at some point, you know. I...came back to you all, and it's okay now. You don't need to harbor anymore feelings of anger towards him or the events that followed at the prison. It's over and done. You can't carry that with you anymore."
"I didn't know I was. I thought I'd gotten over it, but...it still pisses me off." He drew in air and sighed it out. "I guess I gotta make peace with it."
"Yes, you do."
"I don't gotta forgive him, do I?"
She laughed. "That's up to you. Forgive him or forget it, it's your decision. It's your peace. Make it yourself. I don't want to influence this decision. He is your best friend."
"Second best." He took her hand and held it. "You're my first and best everythin'."
She grinned at him, and it rapidly turned into a groan, he moved the tray further down the bed, and she tightened her grip on his hand. He lost some feeling in his hand, using the watch Rick had left behind to count down her contractions, and he would have given anything to speed time up and have their son already be here. He hated seeing her in pain, especially being in pain where he couldn't help. He couldn't control her body and urge this process along, but he damn sure was going to do everything Neva told them tomorrow to help her body naturally kick itself into gear. If he had to lecture his son out, he would.
"God." Carol panted when the contraction ceased, lying back against the pillows and releasing Daryl's hand. "If Tobin were here, I'd kill him."
Daryl laughed. "Y'know, it takes two—"
"I know," she grumpily cut him off. "But I'm getting my share right now."
"If Tobin were here, he'd probably have passed out by now." Daryl stroked her belly, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips.
"Definitely." She wiped a tear from her eye and let go of his hand. "Could you do me a favor?"
"Anythin'."
"Tell me something about you I don't know." She set her hands on her belly. "About you and Merle. Something good. I...need to not think about my current situation right now."
He nodded and thought back to his memories with Merle. There weren't a whole lot of good memories, but there were some sub par ones, and they could bring a smile to her face before the next contraction set in.
––
Maggie stretched her body outside the clinic, yawning loudly and dropping back down on the couch where Enid was already passed out. Glenn was in the armchair, and Tara was across him in the other, and Denise was upstairs napping. Neva was about to rouse her to take over the night shift. Maggie was tempted to take over so they could rest. She had helped her parents birth several babies. They were babies from the animals on the farm, but childbirth was childbirth. And if something did happen that required an actual doctor, it would be best if the doctor was alert and fully rested. Not half and half.
"How much longer is this gonna be?" Tara moaned sleepily. "I don't think Meg took this long."
"Different bodies, different circumstances," Glenn mumbled from his chair.
"I'm gonna die." She buried her face in her arms, her body coiled up like a human snake in the armchair.
"You literally have two other beds upstairs," Maggie reminded her.
"Yeah, but one is for Neva, and the other was Enid's old bed. And I like sleeping with my girlfriend. It helps me to sleep."
"Get a teddy bear," Glenn suggested, closing his eyes.
"Maybe I'll cuddle Maggie and the baby pop," Tara mused.
"Baby pop?" Maggie waved over Enid's unconscious body, assuming that was who she meant.
Tara shook her head and pointed to Maggie's stomach. "That baby pop."
Maggie smiled softly. "I'm the only one cuddlin' baby pop for now."
"Baby hog." She smirked at her. "Guess I'll have to hog Greyson from his Godparents."
"Over my dead body." This came from Glenn who was going in and out of sleep.
"What he said." Maggie wrapped her arms loosely around her stomach. "We have second dibs."
"After Daddy Dixon dibs." Tara pursed her lips. "Guess I'll have third dibs. If those are a thing."
"They are now."
"Cool. I'm inventin' new terms. Take that my graduating high school class. Class clown Tara Chambler is makin' up new terms. Suck it."
Maggie giggled. "Just go to sleep."
"I'm trying."
Maggie stroked Enid's hair, and the young girl moaned softly, burying her face in the throw pillow even more, and Maggie kissed her temple. She carefully stood up and edged her way back into the clinic. She checked in on Carol and Daryl, who were talking softly, and she let them be. She sat down on the gurney and pulled the sonogram photo out, looking it over, feeling an anchor settle on her chest once more.
"How far along?"
Maggie jumped at the older woman speaking up from the corner of the room. "Oh, God. I didn't see you there."
"Being invisible is what I do best." She apologized with a smile. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You surprised me is all."
Neva approached her. "So, do you know how far along you are?"
"Yeah, just over 12 weeks."
"That's good." She smiled at her. "Are you happy?"
"It's...a mixture of joy and nerves."
"You've lost a baby." Neva knew the look in the young woman's eyes, and Maggie nodded. "I'm very sorry. It's...difficult. You never truly are able to move beyond it, but it does become less. The weight of loss, the pit of hollowness, the...guilt and burden...become less. With time and with new hope."
Maggie smiled somberly at her. "You sound familiar with this type of loss, and I don't mean your daughter."
"I...had a hard time getting pregnant myself. Jo was my miracle. My angel. The love of my life." She blinked back tears. "I couldn't have made it as far as I have today without her, and I'm only here now because I can't tarnish her memory by ending my own life. She lives inside of my heart, and I'll keep her there until it's my time. She deserves more than that, but it's all I can offer her."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's my burden to bear." She looked at the sonogram, and Maggie let her hold it. "Your first was your angel, dear girl, but this one. This one will be your miracle. Beautiful and strong, just like you. I know it. This baby will...make this world better by simply being in it. As you and Glenn are."
Maggie snuffled. "I'm not so sure. I'm scared to hope."
"Never be afraid of good things. Hope is one of the best good things this world has to offer. Never fear it."
She nodded.
"Get some rest." She handed the sonogram back. "Your body and mind need that right now."
"Thank you."
She patted her hands. "Good night, sweetie, and may we have a sweet boy to hold in ours tomorrow."
Maggie could only nod through her tears, and she returned to the living room, snuffling. She cleared her cheeks of tears and found Glenn sound asleep in the armchair. She smiled at the sight of him and walked over to him, placing a kiss to his temple. She couldn't imagine a world without him, and she felt deep in her heart that she never would have to. One day, he would leave her naturally, but he would live on in their children. So would Hershel and Jo and herself. There wasn't an end really, just...a change. A shift. Tobin would be alive in his son, just as Lori was alive in Carl and Judith, and Josephine in Eli. It was beautiful, because she knew while their baby was gone, it would never really be gone. That baby was in their hearts and their souls, and this baby was too, but this baby would be here with them. She knew it. She felt it, and she wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
She set a hand on her belly and expelled a sigh that held most of her doubts and worries, sending them far away. This wasn't a time for doubts and worries. It was a time of great bliss and memories. A baby boy was going to be born into this world, their family was going to grow, and she was going to become a mother to a newborn when he or she was ready. Enid would become a big sister. Glenn would become a father. Those were all wonderful things to become. No tears of sorrow. No regrets. Just one step at a time and breathe.
She lowered herself down onto the couch and got comfortable, Enid shifted, and Maggie lied down, lifting her legs over the arm of the couch, her head beside Enid's. She rolled her head to the side, facing Enid, and she closed her eyes, drifting off almost immediately.
– – –
Daryl looked over Carol as she slept, drinking a cup of coffee as the sun rose, and he couldn't help but think of how soon their son would be there. He would be able to hold him in his arms and see his face. He would hear him breathing and hold his little hands as he had with newborn Judith, only this was his baby. His son to raise and guide and support.
He wasn't sure how good of a father he would be. He had no example growing up, but now...he had a few in his mind. He had Hershel to look to, and he had some moments from Rick. He couldn't piece them together to make a father good enough to show him the way, but he could use them to help himself figure out the type of father he could be. He would never do to his son what his father did to him. He didn't have to worry about that, because he knew he wouldn't do that. He had a strength in him that fucker could never dream to touch now. He had a good heart. A good head on his shoulders. He was a good man. A worthy man. It had taken him a long time on Denise's couch to realize that, but he was worthy and good and strong. He deserved this chance to be a husband and father. He deserved to be happy. He wasn't a bad guy. He never was. He made plenty of mistakes, but those mistakes didn't own him. They didn't make him. They were just in his past. He had overcome and bettered himself, and while that didn't take everything away, that knowledge that he had grown up and become better shrunk those mistakes. He was...proud of himself and of who he had become.
He had been called many things in his life. A bastard, a piece of shit, redneck trash, a pussy, a coward, a...dumbass. Perhaps they were true. Maybe he was all of those things at one time, and that maybe was okay and maybe it wasn't, but it didn't matter. They belonged to his past, to a man he no longer was, and he didn't have to carry them around any longer, because he had been called so many other greater things. A friend, a brother, a leader, a lover, a husband and now a father. His past shaped him into who he was today, and he wouldn't change who he was now for anything, because for the first time he was truly happy. He was loved. He was grateful. Lucky, too, even. Yeah, he was damn lucky to have this woman in his life.
Denise came into the room, and Daryl put a finger to his lips. She nodded her head and checked on Carol as best she could without waking her up. She pulled Daryl from the room afterward, and he topped off his coffee.
"How's she doin'?" He rested his feet on the bar underneath the stool he sat on.
"Good." Denise wrote down in the file Neva was keeping for Carol. "Pulse is strong, and her blood pressure has been good the entire time, so I'm not too worried about her. I think this rest will do her some good."
"Yeah, it's been...hours and hours of contractions and nothin' comin' from 'em. It's wiped her."
"Yeah, I'd say. It's been nineteen hours of labor pains and no fruit. I'd be out, too."
Daryl hadn't been counting the hours, but shit, Carol was a trooper. "Any way to tell how much longer it'll be?"
"I'm afraid not. This isn't my area of expertise anyway, sorry."
"Nah, it's okay. Neva has some stuff for us to do once Carol's up to try and get him out."
"I hope they work."
"Me, too."
"I'll bet." She broke out into a huge smile. "When it's over, you get to be a dad, and you get to take home a precious little boy. You're stooked, right? I mean, I am, and I'm not even as much a part of it as you."
"I am." He couldn't help but smile. "I can't wait to meet him and hold him."
"Any thoughts of him all grown up? Like...I don't know, training with him? Teaching him?"
"Yeah, actually, I've had a lot of thoughts about that. I want him to be a good man, capable and resourceful. I want me and Carol to raise him to be a survivor, but more than that, too, you know? I want him to rely on his gut and his skills but know...how to spot a good person and how to better himself once we're gone. Do you think I can manage that?"
"I don't think so." She snickered at the offense plastered on his face. "I know so."
"Oh." His smile returned to the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, Denise."
"It's what friends are for." She picked up the file. "I have to find Enid. We have a lesson today. Our last one."
"Wow, that was quick."
"She's a quick study, and...there's only so much I can teach her. She'll have the knowledge, and she'll learn more with experience."
"That's true."
"I'll be back to check on Carol when she wakes up. Let me know. I have my walkie."
He nodded and watched her leave, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand. He had a lot to work through, but he had some time before his son was born, and he wouldn't spend it staring at the walls. And imagining teaching his son how to hunt and track and fish...and set a trap. "Heh." He felt like a kid, daydreaming about all of it, but it lightened his heart to think about it. All the things a father was meant to teach his son, Daryl would teach, and all the things parents were meant to teach their child, he and Carol would teach. And all the little and big things Greyson would need to know to survive this world, this family would teach him. Just as they would Judith and Eli. Important lessons, all of them, and none would left out.
"Hey, Pops." Glenn chuckled at the cringe that passed through Daryl. "Kidding."
"You best be, Short Round."
"I see the highly covetted coffee has been broken out." He helped himself to a cup. "You look like shit. I'm guessing you didn't sleep."
"Nah, Carol was up most of the night with contractions and some leg cramps. I kept her company. She finally fell asleep a few hours ago."
"That explains why Denise and Enid are having a lesson on the porch." He leaned over the counter and drank from his cup. "Any progress?"
"No, but Neva has some ideas. We're gonna trying 'em when Carol wakes up."
"That's good. I hope they get this over with. I mean, Carol's gotta be miserable." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how she's doing it."
"Me either."
"Women." Glenn exhaled. "They're incredible."
"You got that right." Tara joined the boys. "That's why I love them. Well, one of them."
"Yes, and that one is on the porch."
"I'm not looking for her, but thanks." She moistened her lips. "I'm about to take up a shift on the wall. Eugene's been up there all night."
"I thought Spencer had morning shift."
"He did, but he hasn't shown up yet, so I'm gonna go ahead and fill in for him. I have time, so I don't mind, though I will be stopping by afterward to talk to him." She grabbed an apple from the basket and headed out for her shift.
Daryl shifted on his stool. "How's Maggie doin'?"
"Good. She went home to shower and change, but she'll be back over around noon."
"That's not what I meant."
Glenn studied his face and found an unsurprising answer. "Carol suspected she was pregnant and told you." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah."
"Well, she was right, and Maggie is. She's 12 weeks and a day today." He bit his bottom lip. "We're out of danger somewhat, but it doesn't feel like...we've made it through the woods yet."
"I think y'all made it through the woods a long time ago." Daryl squared his shoulders. "It'll feel better once the months go by, trust me. That's how I felt with Carol when I found out about the baby. I spent so many hours agonizing over the ways she could lose the baby or ways the baby could die, but it's pointless. What happens will happen."
"What if what happens is a repeat of what already happened? I can't go through that again, Daryl. I can't watch Maggie go through that again. It nearly killed us. If it happens again, it will end everything we have. I'd lose everything."
"You won't."
"How do you know? You're not... You don't know. You can't know."
"No, but I can hope," Daryl laid out. "I used to not put any stock in hope, but...it ain't all bullshit. Sometimes good stuff does come of it. You should try it."
Glenn laughed through his nose. "I never thought you'd be one to lecture me on hope. Rick, maybe, but never you."
"People change."
"I suppose they do." His lips curled upward in a warm and thankful smile. "Thank you, Daryl."
"Anytime, brother."
"Daryl." Neva came out of the clinic, and he turned to face her. "She's up."
His smile fell. It seemed like she'd only just fallen asleep. "Be right there."
She headed back inside, Glenn wished him luck, and Daryl polished off his coffee before jogging back to Carol's room. He walked in on them talking about taking a walk around town, and he was glad it had warmed up, because if Carol's expression was any indicator, they were going to be walking trenches in the ground until this child was out of her.
– – –
Michonne was on the wall that evening, Carl and Enid were playing with Eli and Judith at his house, and Maggie and Denise were changing the sheets to Carol's bed. Rick and Glenn were preparing dinner for both the clinic and their own homes, and Daryl was dying behind Carol, who wasn't going to let up on walking. They walked by Tara and didn't even say hi, though Daryl did weakly wave before hurrying to catch his wife.
Tara chuckled, thinking he was a poor fool, and she was about to continue walking back to her house when she spotted Rosita slinking out of Spencer's house. In his shirt. In the middle of the night. She heaved a sigh and intervened instantly.
"What's up?" Rosita tried to play it cool.
"Don't be cute. It works, but don't do it."
She crossed her arms. "I'm an adult. I don't need a lecture."
"You do when your actions screw up the wall rotation."
"It got covered...didn't it?"
"It did, but that's not the point. The point is you and Spencer shouldn't be doing it all night and day, because you both don't want a relationship, and you both have issues you need to work out before taking any steps forward with someone else."
"Okay, Mom." She hung her head to the side and groaned. "Fine, okay, you're right. I don't know what I'm doing."
"C'mon." Tara put her arm around her and walked her towards the clinic.
"But that doesn't mean I want to talk it out with your girlfriend."
"You're not. You're talking to me."
Ten minutes later they were on the clinic porch, and Tara waited until after Rosita got some food in her before they started talking. Tara had a lot of questions for her, and she didn't want any excuses popping up. They really needed to talk.
"Why were you over there in the first place?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
"We're all in the same neighborhood. Try again."
She gripped the bottom of the bench and puffed. "He has whiskey, and I wanted a drink. I didn't want to deal with Olivia's questions or looks, so I went directly to him. He's convenient."
"That's messed up."
"But he is."
"Still messed up. You can't use him like that."
"I'm not using him. If anything, we...are using each other. It's a good agreement."
"Yeah, if you're both stupid. Those types of agreements never work. That's why you broke it off in the first place. I thought you'd grown up some, but was I wrong? I don't think I was, so tell me the truth. What's really going on with you lately?"
"I'm lonely, all right? Are you happy now?" She shot up and groaned. "I don't have anybody, and I get that that can be okay, but it got to a point where it wasn't. I wanted somebody, and Spencer was nearby. It's not a good solution, but I'm not like you and Denise or Carol and Daryl or Rick and Michonne. I didn't find a soul mate at the end of the world. I had my heart broken, and I'm trying to deal with everything that comes along with that all by myself, because my typical support system is gone. They're dead or...the walking dead. I don't know. I never got to know, and that's something else I have to come to terms with all on my own, because everyone else...get closure or enough of it anyway."
"Rosita—"
"Don't. I don't want any pity. That's why I'm doing this all on my own. I don't want that look directed at me. I hate that look. I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're so far from fine."
"I'll manage."
"You shouldn't have to. We...fought and struggle and paid the price for this place again and again. It's time to be happy now, to...try and find some semblance of a normal life in this world. It doesn't have to be with a man or a woman; it can just be with you, but...you're...not looking for that. Are you?"
"How can I be happy when...I'm carrying so much?" Tears filled those dark orbs. "The world has shaken me, and I handled that. I became who I had to. Then Eugene tilted my world twice, and I handled that. I got over it. And now...all that's happened here... It's been so much. I don't...think I have any more room to compartmentalize all of it, and it's...pushing me to the edge. I feel like I'm...insane. Like I'm running in the same circles and trying desperately to get out, but I'm stuck in the same space, and I'm suffocating."
"And how does Spencer help that?"
"He doesn't. He just gets me out of my head for a while."
"That's not going to help you in the long run."
"I'm not sure I'll make it to the long run."
Tara flew off the bench. "Of course you will! You can't think you won't. I understand how hard life gets you down, especially in this fucked up life, but...you can't just take it. You have to fight back."
"I have fought back. I've spend so much time fighting back, and...I am worn out."
"Then let me help you fight." She gripped her shoulders. "Let Denise help you fight, Rosita. When you're down and out, tag us the fuck in, okay? You aren't alone. You don't have to be lonely. I'm right here. Your friend. Your family. I love you, Rosita. I always will."
She whimpered and lowered her head.
"You don't need a man. You don't need a boy toy. You need a foundation. You can find that inside yourself or with others. Babe, I will be your foundation for life." She hugged her. "All of us will be if you let us."
"I can't ask—"
"Bitch, please, you don't have to ask." She held her tighter. "You never have to ask."
She laughed humorlessly and held tight to her.
Tara's heart broke at the feel of Rosita shaking in her arms, and she wished she would have talked to her about this sooner. Being on your own after never being alone in your entire life was like hitting a ton of bricks. After losing her entire family...Tara knew that feeling all too well, and she would make up for not seeing this sooner.
"It's all right." Tara rubbed her back. "It'll be all right from here on out. I promise." She needed to talk to Denise, but Enid's old room was empty now, and having a roommate would be nice. They had a crowd in the house now, so it'd be great to have at least one more person in the home now.
––
Daryl was passed out cold on the chair beside Carol's bed, his face buried in the pillow Neva had gotten him, Carol stroked his hair with a soft smile on her face, and Neva used her other arm to take her blood pressure and pulse. Denise came through to collect their empty plates, and Carol asked how Rosita was doing. They had seen her on their way back in, and she was crying so hard. Tara had helped her upstairs to sleep in the guest bedroom, and they hadn't heard anything since.
"She's as asleep as Daryl." Denise smiled. "We're going to let her rest. She's...had a hard time, and I need to talk to her about it. When she's ready, obviously."
Carol nodded. "So, how is everything, Doc?"
"Even." She tucked her hands into her pocket. "You've only gotten to five, however."
"Even after all of that?" Carol didn't have the energy to be stunned. She was more pissed than anything. "Do I have to will this kid out of me?"
"I don't know, but we'll try again in a bit. Just get some rest, and I'll be back to check on you."
Carol folded her arms. "This is going to take a lifetime. He'll come out four years old and just greet everybody vocally."
Denise laughed. "I'm sure it won't be as bad as that."
"But it'll be bad." She glanced at the door Neva had departed through. "Is there something wrong, and she just doesn't want to tell me? Is he...okay?"
"Of course he is." Denise went to her side. "I wouldn't let her lie to you about how Greyson is doing."
"Are you sure?" She hugged her arms tighter. "Because I'm having doubts. I know how labor goes, and while it's been over a decade since I've done it, it didn't...feel like this."
"Carol, look at me." Denise gripped her hand. "I swear to you that Greyson is healthy and strong. He's taking his sweet time coming out, but he is safe. Nothing will happen to him."
She swallowed. "Could I just see? To be sure?"
"Well, I don't want to wake Daryl up, but Maggie and Glenn brought me a gift from this trip to Hilltop." She released Carol's hand and stepped into the other room to retrieve the fetal Doppler. "We can hear his heartbeat. Will that do?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Good." Denise turned the device on and let Carol arrange herself accordingly. "This is my first time using this, so if you know how to use it better than I do, take it from me." She pulled it from the box along with the gel. "This is probably cold."
"It always is."
Denise recalled what she'd seen Neva do the last time and mirrored it, flicking the monitor on and using the probe to locate the best angle for hearing Greyson's heartbeat. She knew the other sounds to be heard in the womb, so she tried to discern them. She fretted she might be leading the probe incorrectly and putting unnecessary stress on Carol. She didn't want to do that, but she wasn't this type of doctor. She wasn't really a doctor at all, so if she...
"Ah." She stopped at the sound of intense beating, and she recognized the sound instantly. "Got it."
Carol's entire posture relaxed at the sound of her son's beating heart, and a couple tears escaped. "There he is."
"Wow, look at that." She ran her eyes over the monitor. "He is doing strong."
"You weren't sure?" Carol eyed her.
"No! No, I knew he was, but not this strong. He—I mean, I don't—" Denise stopped. "Um, just try and forget that statement. It wasn't as negative as you thought."
She ran her hand over her face. "Thank you, Denise, and it's okay. I know you didn't mean anything negative." She rested her knuckles under her chin. "Could I keep that? Just... in case this drags on much longer?"
"Oh, of course." She handed it over. "It's pretty self-explanatory."
"Thanks." She set it on the bed beside her.
"I'm gonna go check on Rosita." She pulled a towel from the bedside table and handed it to her. "I'll be back to check on you."
Carol accepted the towel and called her before she left. "Could you bring me some paper? I'm getting bored, and I don't have the patience to read. Maybe I can doodle. Or play Dots with Daryl when he wakes up."
"Sure. I'll be right back."
Carol lifted her hand and set it back on Daryl's head as he snoozed softly beside her. She wanted to kiss his head, but she couldn't quite reach him with this belly. She would just have to make due with this for now. Once he woke up then she could kiss him, and it wouldn't taste like fruit shampoo.
"I don't know how I ever deserved you." She threaded her fingers through his soft chestnut hairs. "But I couldn't love and respect you more."
He moaned but continued to snooze.
"Hmm." She leaned back on the pile of pillows supporting her, and she waited for Denise to bring her notepad. She might as well make out a list of things to help Daryl with Greyson if he truly wasn't going to let her do anything. It was thoughtful, but she would help him out, even if he didn't want her to. Greyson was their son, and she wasn't slack on her end.
Denise returned with an unused notepad and a couple pens then looked in on Rosita. She wanted to make sure she was still sleeping, and she wasn't. She was just waking, and Denise closed the door behind her to talk to her. It was overdue.
"Hey, sleepyhead." Denise offered a smile.
"What time is it?" She ran a hand through her hair. "I mean, is it night or day?"
"It's nighttime."
She moaned. "I slept the entire day away then."
"Pretty much." She seated herself beside the young woman. "What's going on with you?"
"I already did this with Tara. I don't want to redo it with you. I don't want to redo that at all."
"Rosita, you screwed around with Spencer and came out in almost all his clothes."
"He tore my shirt." She rolled up the sleeves to Spencer's shirt. "I'm swimming in this thing, but it is comfortable."
"I don't doubt it, but that's not the point."
"The point is it won't happen again."
"Yes, it will." She locked her gaze in Rosita's. "It'll keep happening until you talk about what's bugging you. I know you can stand on your own two feet just fine. You don't need a crutch, so why are you doing this? I know you don't have feelings for him."
"He distracts me, plain and simple."
"I don't think it's simple at all, Rosita."
"It can be. I'm...a loose cannon right now, and he's a thinning rope keeping me still. Once it snaps, who the hell knows what I'll do."
"Spencer...is a good man, and he'll fall in love with you without meaning to, but you don't love him. You don't love anybody, not since Abraham."
"And look where that got me. Love and the end of the world don't mix."
"It can, if you find a healthy type of love, but you don't have to find it. You can love yourself, and you can be alone."
"Yeah, the thing about that is...I hate being alone. It's shit."
"It is, and as someone who spent a lot of time being alone, it doesn't get better. You get better. You can heal. You can...find out who you are without someone. It's lonely, but it can be what you need. Now, you don't have to be alone completely alone." She set her hand over hers. "Tara and I would love to help you through this tough time. You're our friend, our family, and...we want to be by your side."
"How?" She tried to keep the moisture from her eyes.
"You can move in with us. We have this spare room, and...it'd be nice to have someone to talk to in the mornings that isn't a total grump." She smiled. "And it'd be nice for you to not have to see Sasha and Abe next door all the time."
"You...want me to live with you and Tara? Seriously?"
"Why not?"
"You two are in a relationship. You're in love. You don't need me third wheeling your lives. I'll feel like an ass, and that won't help anybody."
"You're not an ass, and we both want you here. It's a clean environment, and it's...full of love. You can be a part of that love. You already are."
"I feel like you're hitting on me right now," Rosita mused. "Like a three way situation."
"Stop." Denise laughed. "I'm not offering that at all."
"I know. I just had to break the serious tension in here." She pulled her hand from underneath Denise's and stood up, placing her hands on her hips and inhaling deeply. "Hmm...okay."
"Okay? You mean you'll do it? You'll move in?"
"It's better than seeing that same crusty bed where Eugene used to watch me and Abe screw." She faced her. "I appreciate this, Denise. I really do. I won't...let you down."
"I won't want you to, but I don't want you to let yourself down even more." She rose and gripped her shoulders. "Make yourself proud of the woman you are, not just the warrior."
She smiled dryly and bobbed her head in a yes motion.
"I'll let Tara know." She dropped her hands. "There's some food downstairs if you're hungry."
"Thank you."
Denise smiled affectionately and slipped out of the room, and Rosita brought her arms in and wrapped them around her torso, hugging herself tightly. She collapsed onto the bed and kept her body clutched, resting her forehead on her knees, compressing her stomach she was holding herself so tightly. She closed her eyes and exhaled, shaking her head and sobbing. There were a lot of open wounds in her heart and in her mind that nobody had seen, because she wouldn't allow them, but here they were now...bleeding out and letting air in. She wasn't sure if she could take it, but she knew if she couldn't, she had family who would happily help her withstand it.
– – –
Sasha stood at the fence she had built to wrap around the pond, the moon's light reflecting off its blue surface, and she held herself to fend off the still icy night's breeze. She had finished her shift and was wandering around, killing time before she inevitably returned to her home. She wasn't sure why she was lingering, but at the same time that was a lie. She knew. She could feel it in her bones and at her ear. She had the answer to why months ago. She was only procrastinating.
"There you are."
She shifted her body slightly to face Michonne. "Were you looking for me?"
"I was, actually, yeah." She joined her at the fence. "I need you to trade shifts with Maggie at the wall for tomorrow night. She wants to be with Carol as Godmother. If you don't want to, I'm sure I can find someone else."
"No, it's all right. I don't mind to."
"Thanks. I'll let Maggie know."
Sasha tilted her head upward to gaze at the man on the moon's full surface, and she shivered inwardly. "Tyreese had to show me the man on the moon," she mumbled."
"Hmm?" Michonne leaned towards her.
"When we were kids, he used to talk about the man in the moon and how he saw him. I never did. I just saw the big, white moon. He pointed it out to me so many times, but it never really stuck. I eventually told him I saw it so he wouldn't look so disappointed." She chuckled in memory of his sullen face. "He was like a puppy, all pouty that I didn't see it."
Michonne's lips curved upward. "I can see that."
"I...see him now in the moon."
"The man?"
She shook her head. "Tyreese. I see those...gentle eyes and that affectionate smile."
"I miss him, too."
"He was...stronger than me in ways I didn't know until he was gone," Sasha divulged. "His heart was fragile...but only because he cared and loved beyond reason. He forgave...and protected. He deserved so much better than he got, and...it breaks my heart that we found this place, because he belonged here. He was made for a place like this."
"He was," Michonne agreed. "He would have been great with the kids and with the work schedule."
"He should have made it here. Noah should have survived here."
"A lot of people should have survived and made it here, but...they didn't. We did, but they didn't, and it's not acceptable. It's...bullshit. Beth and Noah should be here right now, being teenagers and growing into adults. Tyreese and Bob should be here, taking shifts and keeping an eye on our inventory. Tobin, Deanna, Reg, Aiden, Andrea, Mika, Lizzie, Karen, David...the list goes on, and it always will."
"I know, but that doesn't take the anger away. The regret."
"Tyreese...wasn't made for this world. His heart was good and soft, and he was an amazing person, but he wasn't made for a world like this."
"And we were?"
"No, but we made ourselves to be. He couldn't. It wasn't true to who he was at his core. I don't know what's out there when we die, but I know he's in a much better place. His heart isn't weighted down by all the losses, any of his mistakes and regrets. He's free now, and it's okay to mourn him. To miss, but don't be angry. It only eats away at you."
She scrutinized the lake's ripples from the breezes that occasionally blew to keep from looking at Michonne. "Carol's pregnant. Maggie might be pregnant. Our next generation."
"Yeah. It's beautiful."
"Is it?" Her voice deepened with emotion, her throat sore. "How can we bring life into this world? It's cold and calculating and seemingly always against us. How can we thrust this world onto innocent children? How can we be so selfish?"
"It's not...selfish to have a child in this world."
"Yes, it is."
"Everyone deserves a chance to have a family," Michonne stated. "To pass on their traditions and values and genes, to see their line live on."
"And how is that fair to the life they're bringing into this mess?"
"Maybe it's an uneven trade, but the world might get better." Sasha scoffed. "It might get better because we make it better. With blood and bullets or with words and treaties, we'll make it better. They'll make it better. They're hope, Sasha. Our children are our hope that this world that we fight for and that we die for will live on and all those deaths and losses will have meant something."
She dared to look at the woman beside her. "You think that?"
"I have to, because I have Judith and Carl. I want this world to be better for them, so that they don't have to fight tooth and nail like we do every single time a new threat arises. I want Judith to one day walk outside to an unknown group and not feel threatened by them, but...be able to welcome them without fear or suspicion. I don't know that it'll happen in her lifetime or not, but I have to try with everything I have to work for that goal. She deserves my every effort. Greyson deserves my every effort. Carl, Enid, Maggie's unborn babies, all unborn babies. I want to make a world where their battles aren't wars, and their struggles aren't life or death."
She sniffed. "That's an admirable goal. I like that."
Michonne set a hand on her shoulder. "Children will always be a blessing, no matter the condition of the world. They open your mind to new possibilities and keep you driven, keep you focused. They aren't a mistake. I don't know if you and Abe will ever make that decision, but if you do...remember that."
"Thank you, Michonne."
"Of course."
"Do you remember what I told you when we were making this fence?"
"I do."
"I still mean that. I just...lost myself in the pain."
"That's okay, as long as you remember that pain isn't all there is and where pain comes from." At Sasha's furrowed brows, Michonne smiled. "Love. Pain comes from love, and love is...the purest thing this world has to offer. That's why pain is so dark and so heavy. Opposites do that."
She gulped. "Pain comes from love, huh? I hadn't thought of it that way."
"You only have one viewpoint when you're dwelling in those dark emotions alone," Michonne told her. "Come inside, and we'll talk some more. It's not spring yet."
The pair made their way back home with the man in the moon looking down on them, perhaps...even smiling.
– – –
"Okay, this oughta to work." Neva handed the small cup to Carol, who disbelievingly curled her nose at the thick substance. "It's castor oil. This should have that kid outta you."
"What's castor oil?" Daryl looked at his wife's displeased expression. "What's it supposed to do?"
"It has a lot of properties, but for our situation, I'm hoping it jump starts this labor process. It's been over thirty hours, and I can't watch her struggle. I asked Abe to locate me some, and he was able to procure it from the loads of pharmacy items Daryl brought."
"You found castor oil when you found my folic acid?" Carol inquired.
"I just grabbed whatever I saw." He blushed sheepishly. "If it works, ain't you glad I did?"
"I still have to drink it." She brought the cup to her lips and downed it, praying it worked, because this was getting to be fucking ridiculous. Greyson was coming out today, if it was the last thing she did. He was going to be born. Today. Her will demanded it.
Neva went over the effects castor oil would have on her, and Daryl readied Carol to go out again for another walk. It was a beautiful day, warm and the scent of flowers on the breeze. The kids were all outside, playing now that class had let out, and even some lunches were taken outside. All the houses had their windows open to welcome the shy spring, and Carol and Daryl saw the majority of their family as they ventured onward.
Rosita was teaching a class out by the garden, showing the proper way to utilize a machete for offense and defense. Maggie and Glenn tending to the garden along with some others, laughing at their fingers finding each other underneath the rich, sun-warmed earth and sharing a few kisses. Abraham and Eugene were looking over the latest round of bullets to come from their little project, Abe shooting a dummy they had made with one and Eugene going off about how good the results of this batch were. Abe could only shake his head and be impressed.
Further down Michonne and Carl were practicing hand-to-hand combat, a new thing they had come up with a few hours ago after watching a movie. Rick and Judith were sitting nearby to monitor how it was going while simultaneously having a play date with Eric and Eli. The girls were deeply invested in their toys. Aaron and Sasha were on duty at the wall, Sasha keeping an eye out from above and Aaron by the gate, clearing off a few walkers from outside the gate.
Gabriel was holding a service outside by the solar panels, a few of the older residences of Alexandria were there, holding hands and saying a prayer. Morgan could be seen a few yards away, doing his usual morning routine, and he sent a grin to Carol and Daryl as they passed. Carol returned it thinly, worn to the bone from these past few hellish hours, and Daryl returned his grin with a wave. They would have stop to chat, but Carol wanted to keep going. There was plenty of time for talk once Greyson was born.
Spencer and Francine passed on their way to meet Olivia for the weekly inventory check, discussing a potential run outside the walls. Daryl didn't like the sound of it, and from Francine's face, she wasn't too fond of the idea either. Spencer was hopefully just talking to talk, and if not, he was going to get shut down quick. He wanted to be helpful, but helpful didn't always mean safe and smart.
On their second lap around after yet another stop by the bathroom, Tara joined with expectant parents some water and a watch to track the contractions as Daryl hadn't thought to grab one. They talked about the baby for a few blocks, but as they passed the cemetery, Daryl shifted the conversation to other topics. He didn't want to think about all those who should be here and weren't. He was interested in Eugene and Abe's project, and Tara told him to check it out, and she'd keep going around with Carol. He didn't want to leave her side, but Carol assured him she was fine and Greyson wasn't going anywhere just yet. It took a few ten minutes to convince him, but eventually he did go check it out himself. Him and a few of the kids in Rosita's morning class.
"Boys and their toys." Tara lifted her watch when Carol's grip clamped down on her hand. She was going to need so much ice. Shakespeare got one thing fight: Though she be but little she is fierce. Woman had the grip of a lioness's jaw.
They proceeded around and around and around and around. At some point Daryl had come back to them, and Tara's legs were getting sore, but she was in it for the long ass haul, because why the fuck not. They marched circles around that town, and when Carol was in the bathroom, and Daryl and Tara took those breaks to die a little in the grass. Eventually, after hours of speed walking and pit stops for water and bathroom breaks, the contractions were practically on top of each other, and Greyson was ready to be in the world.
Neva was bum rushed by them, Daryl was carrying Carol over to the bed, Tara had yanked Maggie and Glenn from their porch, and a small group of family rushed after her. Neva had Daryl and Maggie on either of Carol's sides, Denise was ready with fresh towels, and Tara had to keep the group—Rick, Michonne, Morgan, Sasha and Francine—out in their living room that was doubling as a lobby.
"All right, Carol." Neva had Daryl and Maggie holding's Carol's legs up for her. "It's time to meet your son, so I need you to push. Okay? You ready?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, push!"
This was where everything became a blur. Maggie held Carol's leg and hand an arm around her shoulder, telling her to push and also to breathe, and Daryl was on the other side, holding her other leg in one hand and her hand in the other, telling her both to push and that he loved her. Denise and Neva worked in tandem to deliver Greyson, and Carol put all of her energy into giving birth to her son, to one of two of the most important men in her life. Her heart and soul and body worked together to ease Greyson into the world...and not thirty minutes later, there he was in their world before them, crying and beautiful and alive before their eyes.
Neva had Daryl cut the umbilical cord and asked Denise to clean him off some, so they could hold him before his first bath. Maggie covered Carol's lower body and kissed her temple, crying tears of joy at the sight she'd just witnessed. Daryl had tears in his own eyes—as did the whole room, to be honest—his eyes on the life in Denise's arm, the various substances on his little body being gingerly wiped off so that his face was clean and revealed to them.
Denise handed him first to his mother, who sat up with the aid of her husband and Maggie, and Carol adjusted the blanket she had put her little boy in, only tucking in cloth by his chin to see his entire face. Good God, he was beautiful with ten fingers and ten toes, his face the almost perfect mirror of his mother's, only the jaw and golden-brown hairs spoke of his natural father. His eyes opened up as his cries all but stopped, and gorgeous blue eyes looked up at her with a lovely mix of confusion and love. It shifted slowly to love and fascination, his mouth releasing soft cooes at her, and he just looked at her.
"Hello, Greyson." Carol snuffled, tears falling from her eyes. "I've been waiting to meet you so for long. I'm so...glad...so glad that you finally decided it was time."
Daryl laughed and snuffled, wiping at his eyes.
She kissed his forehead. "You're my angel, Greyson. My sweet, sweet angel." She carefully squeezed him to her chest, rocking him for a moment then looked up at Daryl. "Meet your dad."
Daryl gulped and tenderly accepted his son from his wife's arms, holding him the way he'd held Judith so long ago, and he smiled down at the angelic face in his arms. Those deep blues were glued to his face, bubbling with trust and interest, and Daryl vowed that he wouldn't betray that trust for the world. Daryl wiped his tear on his upper sleeve and spoke softly to Greyson.
Carol looked at her boys, her heart...overflowing, and she leaned back against the pillows, smiling contently. Her entire body felt...peace, and she rested her head back. "I love you..."
Daryl tore his eyes off his son and beamed at his wife, and Greyson burbled at him. He would have looked back at his son, but something felt wrong. Something...something didn't feel...right. "Carol?" He stepped towards her.
Neva inhaled and cleared her throat, keeping the tears in her eyes at bay. "She must be exhausted." She walked over to her side and checked her pulse. "Hey, Maggie? Why don't you take Greyson for his first bath?"
Maggie's heart stopped and a frigid wave washed through her blood. "O—okay." She gently took the boy from his father and stepped back out towards the hall, her eyes on Carol's limp figure.
"Neva?" Denise's heart was pounding in her ears. "Is she okay?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I need Daryl to start chest compressions." She looked over the chart that listed their inventory while Daryl did as instructed, and Denise grabbed a breathing tube from the drawer beside Carol's bed, quickly ripping it open.
The trio worked as one to try and revive Carol, Neva wasn't one for praying, but she was praying now for Carol to wake up. She ordered Daryl to put more effort into his compressions, that if he broke a rib, it'd be okay. If it worked then she would be alive, and it would have time to heal...
"Come on, Carol, please." Denise set a hand on her cheek, squeezing the breathing bag.
There was an adage that stated anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That was the case here. From the beginning of the pregnancy onward, the worst the could happen to this baby did happen. He was almost lost due to food poisoning, but thankfully he was a tough little dude and held on. His father was brutally killed to ensure his survival and the survival of this own. His other father and birth mother were mentally and physically tormented by a nutcase who wanted to see the world remade in her design. They were able to survive that and find laughter and peace at last only to come to this point. The final wrong...
Neva's eyes moved to Daryl. "I'm so sorry..."
"No." Daryl shook his head. "No, there's gotta be a mistake. You're makin' a mistake."
"I wish to God I were, but—'"
"There's gotta be something you can do," Daryl begged. "Please, anything! There has to be some way! Some—something you haven't—haven't already..." his voice trailed off. There was nothing. He knew there was nothing. They had done everything within their ability to do.
"I can't properly analyze what happened, but I suspect it was her heart," Neva explained what she believed to be the cause of death, but Daryl toned her out, and she could see nothing was getting through to him, so she stopped trying. It would be best to give him time.
Denise removed the breathing bag, carefully pulling the tube from Carol's throat, setting them down on the table beside her. She carried herself out of the room with Neva behind her to give him a moment alone with her.
Daryl looked over the pale body of his soul mate, and the world seemed to halt in its very tracks. Her head was rolled to the side, her lips parted from having the tube removed, and she lied motionless. She would never move again. She would never smile at him again. She would never kiss him again or stroke his hair or...or just be with him, in his arms, warm and giggly. Never again. All of those things were memories now. His memories, and they wouldn't be anything else ever again.
"I love you..."
His hands balled into fists, and his heart began to race, began to pound and thrash against its cage of bone, and he wanted to see the world burn for this. He had known bliss. He had known unconditional love and support and acceptance. He had known so much that he didn't even know half of it exists and now all of it was dead. It was out of his reach, and he would never have access to its abundance again. He'd never...know all that she was to him again. The sole purpose of his life had faded out before his very eyes, and the world had lost all color. The world had lost all meaning and purpose. He had lost all point. He was nothing... Empty. Hollow. Numb. Nothing. There was nothing...
But in the distance, in the back of his mind, a whisper in his ear. A howl. A shrill howl that called to him, that beckoned him, and his fists unclenched as reality settled in around him, a thin fervent blanket on his shoulders.
Greyson was wailing from the other room, Maggie had bathed him and dressed him the cute little outfit she had found for him, but he wouldn't stop crying. Glenn had prepared formula for him, and they tried to feed him, but he wouldn't take it. He didn't want them. He wanted nothing to do with them or the bottle. His little face was red as a tomato, and there wasn't a thing they could do, because he wouldn't let them do anything.
Daryl appeared in the doorway as Michonne now tried to hush the newborn, but his wails only grew. Michonne looked up when Daryl's shadow was cast over her, and Daryl took the baby from her with the snuggest of care. Greyson didn't stop crying, and Michonne was about to clog her ears when Daryl reached into the bag that contained Greyson's clothes and diapers Daryl had packed prior to Carol going into labor, pulling out the blanket Carol had made for him. Daryl wrapped his son up in the blanket that smelled of his mother and rocked him, and Greyson grew quiet.
Glenn handed him the bottle, and Greyson eagerly accepted it. The entire room relaxed and watched as Daryl comforted his son, but all too soon the precious image of a father feeding his child crumbled as tears rolled down Daryl's cheek. He shuddered and his face scrunched up in anguish, and Maggie looked back at the doorway he had come through.
"She's gone," was all Daryl could say.
A day so sweet with life had been spoiled by death, and it reminded them all of the bittersweet birth of Judith. Rick had to excuse himself to get air and collapsed on the porch to his knees, burying his face in his hand, and he heard feet hurrying over to him. Carl and Enid had been playing nearby with Judith, and Carl ran to his father, embracing him and asking what had happened. They comforted each other while Enid held Judith in her arms and kissed her temple, trying to hold herself together at Rick's strained words.
Inside the house, Michonne curled up on the floor and became so small there against the wall, Glenn coiled up beside the armchair, his face buried in his arms, and Morgan said a silent prayer, holding strong to his staff. The room was silent save for the sound of muffled sobbing.
Maggie stood in Carol's room with her body, her knees weak, her hands shaking. She placed one foot in front of the other until she was at her side, and Maggie drank in her features. Her face fell as tears broke free, and she reached down to take her hand, falling into the chair behind her. She held Carol's hand in both of hers and wailed as deeply and as loudly as Carol's son had moments ago in the other room.
––
Greyson was fast asleep at home in his own bed and his mom's handmade blanket still with him, her scent cradling him in his dreams, and Maggie stayed with the newborn. The news of Greyson's birth, 6 pounds, 2 ounces spread around town like a wildfire, and so did the news of Carol's passing. A heavy burden blanketed the town that evening. The kids were silent for their parents, the parents were pale in their seats, and Carol's family was distraught. They were being torn apart from the inside, and no one knew how to seek, let alone find, comfort. This massive hole wouldn't be consoled.
Denise and Tara were lying back to back in bed, and they hadn't said a word to each other since the news had gotten to them. Denise had been there firsthand and couldn't breathe. She could only sob. She didn't know how to ease Tara's pain when she was drowning in her own, but Tara couldn't stand to hear her sobs anymore. She rolled over and held her tightly, telling her to her to let go, to let it out. That was the only way healing could enter.
Michonne hadn't moved from her spot on the floor, Rick joined her along with Carl, and Carl wrapped his arms around Michonne, reaching for his dad's hand, and they clutched each other. They mourned the loss of a mother figure, of a best friend, a of solider, of a damn good woman together. Their pain linking up and flowing through them and pouring out in the form of tears and snot and shivers. Grief wasn't a stranger to any of them, but they had each other. They would survive this together. As they always had.
Sasha and Abraham dug a grave for Carol and made a headstone for her using the leftover wood from Glenn's pile. Abraham glazed it so the weather wouldn't destroy it, and they left it there for the funeral. Sasha found herself by the pond once more when her work was done, and Abe stood by her side. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to speak. They simply...listened to the stillness of the night and the rippling of the water and felt the sorrow of a family member passing away.
Rosita and Morgan left town. They didn't say where they were going, only taking some food items and leaving in the night. Morgan assured Rick they would be back, but they couldn't be there right now. Everyone mourned in their own ways, and this felt right to them. They would honor Carol in some way out here and remember the remarkable woman that she was. They would find their peace and come back when the torrent waves of loss weren't so pounding.
Glenn and Enid sat in the living room of Daryl's home. Enid was curled up on the couch with her puppy and a blanket, having cried herself to sleep; the fireplace casting dancing light along the room, and Glenn fed it another log, sitting close by. His eyes were dry from his tears, his throat sore and distended, and he had nothing left in him. Maybe in the coming weeks he would be able to reclaim himself, but there was nothing now. It was dark and frozen here now. He couldn't expect anything else.
As for Daryl, he...was still in the clinic in Carol's room. He had...to be the one to ensure she wouldn't come back. It had to be him. He had been by her side this entire time now that Greyson was calm and fed, and he didn't know how to leave it. He didn't know how to leave her. He had vowed he would never do that. He had threatened Rick doing it, nearly kicked his ass for doing it, and he nearly lost his mind at Carol trying to leave. He didn't know how to handle it. He wasn't sure he was processing it. He was simply...there in her room with her, his favorite knife stuck in the wall with Carol's blood on the blade. He wanted nothing to do with it ever again. It was no longer a favorite. It was just a reminder. One he didn't want. One he couldn't forgive himself for.
He stood up, sliding his hands under her shoulders and under her knees, lifting her up and off the bed. She was so heavier in his arms than he remembered her ever being. Back at the prison when he found her in solitude, he carried her back to their cell block. She was as light as a feather then from their lack of food in the past few months, and she rested her head on his shoulder, looking up at him and smiling weakly once before dropping her head back on his shoulder. That was the first time he held her. If he had known how precious what he was holding was he wouldn't have let go.
He carried her through the house, passing family members and managing to make his way outside. He squinted at the sunlight and adjusted her in his arms, inhaling deeply. The scent of flowers caught his attention, and he pretended not to notice, because the last time she smelled of flowers ,they were happy. They had just been married, and everything was fantastic. Everything was whole and made sense. The world had since then crumbled and rapidly became nonsensical. He wasn't sure he'd understand it ever again.
"What are you doing?" This came from Michonne who hurried after him. Her voice was layered with emotional heaviness. Her words were raw.
"Buryin' her," he strained.
"All by yourself?" She neared him. "You won't let us say goodbye to her?"
"What's there to say goodbye to?" he challenged.
"Don't act like it's just a body, because we both know Carol was a lot more to all of us than just that." She gripped his shoulder and forced him to turn around and meet her eyes. "You're not burying her."
"Why delay it?"
"Because everyone who can't string two thoughts together because of her death needs to say goodbye and be with people who love them and more importantly who loved Carol. We all deserve a chance to say goodbye to her, and Greyson should see his mother one last time."
"I don't want to see this anymore." He gestured to the body in his arms. "I can't."
She set her hands on his cheeks as grief overcame him. "You don't have to look alone, Daryl. We'll do this together." She dropped an arm to overlap his under Carol's body. "We'll do it together. I promise." She soothed him as his head hung, and he broke down once more.
– – –
Denise and Maggie made up Carol's body to be buried, carefully arranging flowers around her hair to cover the knife mark on her temple, putting her once more in the beautiful gown Spencer had given to them and wrapping her in a white sheet.
Nearly the entire town came to her funeral, Gabriel said a lovely, heartfelt prayer for the departed mother and the young son and heartbroken father, and Glenn and Daryl lowered her body down into the grave. Slowly, cautiously, minding the rope so that her body evenly landed in the dirt, and one by one their family gently tossed in dirt to cover her body. Maggie cradled Greyson in her arms, waiting until the entire grave had been filled and placing a white rose on top of the flower—from a child to his mother.
People began to drift away until it was just Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, Enid and Greyson at her grave. Maggie hand given Greyson to Glenn, and she spoke to Daryl, but he didn't seem to hear her. His eyes didn't even leave the grave, and she decided to let him be. She wrapped an arm around Enid's shoulder and was about to leave when he called to her.
"Yeah?" She spun around.
"I'll be...by tonight to take Greyson," he rasped.
"Daryl...we can take care of him for however long you need. It's not a problem. We love havin' him around." She didn't want him to take on too much at once.
"You have your own baby to worry about." He faced her, eyes red and swollen. "I'll get him tonight."
"Are you sure you can do this?" She didn't doubt his ability, only his mental state.
"I'm sure that I need to be with my son," he remarked. "I promised Carol I would always be by his side, and I always will be." And just like his son needed Carol's blanket to not cry, Daryl needed Greyson to just survive.
"Okay. We'll have his bag ready."
"Thank you." He faced the grave once more, and it wasn't until they were gone that his strength fled him. He fell to his knees before the freshly disturbed earth and the newly plucked flowers, his face burrowing into his face as his entire body quaked. He couldn't contain any of it. He had...nothing to stop now, and it came loose.
"I'm sorry," he sputtered at the blurry headstone. "I'm so sorry, Carol. God... I should have acted faster. I should...shoulda done somethin'! Anythin' to keep you safe, to keep you here. I tried—I tried—I thought I tried my best, but I didn't... I didn't. If I did, wouldn't you be here? Wouldn't you be here? Right here..with me now?" He whimpered.
"You always did everythin' right. You—you saved us, but I couldn't... I couldn't save you when it mattered, and...now I'll never be able to make it right. I'll never...see you again." He inhaled and choked on the air, coughing and raising his head. "I knew this could happen...and I hated Tobin for doin' this to you. I knew if giving birth took you away, I'd kill him, too, but... I can't breathe. I can't even breathe, Carol."
He cried out as if that would release the pain slamming against his chest, wave after wave, cementing itself there, never to be peeled away. He felt as though this was all he would be. A man made of tears and heartache. A broken man who truly could not be repaired. The hole that been inside of him since he realized how much Carol meant to him—the hole that created itself the first time he thought he lost her—was expanding and stretching, and soon it'd swallow him entirely. He would be nothing, and he couldn't stop that hole from spreading and engulfing him. The blades of loss sharpened with each passing moment, and he was too weak to stop it.
He leaned back on his legs, gripping his thighs and attempting to steady his breathing. He could only shudder and gasp, and he wiped at his face, the dirt mixing with his tears and smearing across his cheek. He felt the cold sting of his wedding ring and slammed his fisted hand down into the earth over and over. Part of him hoped the ring would break, because he didn't have the strength to take it off, yet he didn't want to see it anymore. Another part of him hoped it didn't, because death couldn't part what he and Carol had. He couldn't stroke her cheek or see her ardent smile, but he could feel it deep inside underneath all the black ice of her death.
He dug his nails into the grass and screamed. "Are you happy now?" He didn't know if God was real or not, or if he could hear him, but if he was real, he hoped he heard him. If not, it just felt damn good to scream. "You ruined her life and took her away from her son! You took her away from her second chance! She was happy! You couldn't just let her be happy! What—what is wrong with you? You started her life, and you just...you just ended it, you fucker!" He let out a loud, guttural roar and pounded his fists down onto the earth again. "Damn you. Damn you. Damn you! DAMN YOU!"
With each word, he lost more and more of his voice until only a frustrated roar escaped, and he curled up on the ground, pulling his legs to his chest. He felt something stick him in the thigh and shoved away any nearby sticks, but there was nothing there. He lowered his legs and noticed a bulge in his pocket. He dug it out and was prepared to chuck it across the cemetery away from him when he saw his name written on the tightly folded slip of paper.
He flattened the slip of paper to find a letter written in Carol's handwriting, and he ran his eyes over it, absorbing every curve of her words and every paragraph, soaking in the last of her he had in his hands.
Hey, Pookie, if you're reading this then I'm sorry. If you're reading this then the worst has happened. I hate to write that, it seems like such a cliché, but I couldn't think of any other way to word it. Nineteen hours into labor, and your brain is mush. You'll have to forgive me for that. And for leaving. I doubt I had much choice in the matter, but I am sorry. I didn't want to leave you.
You are the best thing that ever happened to me. From the very first day that we met, you changed everything. It continued on after I lost my baby girl, and you stood by my side through it—through everything. When I need you, there you are, even when I don't know I need you. You are my saving grace, the love of my life, my actual soul mate. You are everything that ever made sense and that could ever bring me an abundance of joy in the darkest times of our lives. You have saved me in more ways than one and helped me to save myself. When all the fire consumed who I was, you were there to remind me of the best parts the flames left behind. I never thanked you for that, so thank you.
I've been wandering down dim roads and resting in dangerous places, because I didn't care what happened to me. I was ready to die a few times, because I had had my fill of this world and all it had taken away from me. I was done. I couldn't do it anymore. I saved our family, but it was killing me to do that. I didn't think I would be able to survive all that pain, but I did it. I managed to overcome it and have...real happiness for months. I was able to enjoy being pregnant and bringing a life into this world. I was able to savor every moment I had with Greyson and not hate it, not regret it. I was able to accept my circumstances and be more than satisfied with them. We had love, you and I, and it was genuine. It was precious, and as long as you breathe, Daryl Dixon, it won't die. Hell, maybe it never will. To feel as I do about you, I don't know how in the world it could fade.
You're sleeping right now, snoozing away at my side, and it's...peaceful. I'm filled with peace, too, watching you. You're so beautiful and brave and unyielding. You're the type of man I always wanted but didn't feel I deserved. You're the man that I would wish to have more time with, more lives with. You and me and Greyson and Sophia. Our family. What I wouldn't give to see Sophia raised alongside Greyson, her little brother, with you there to help me guide them. A perfect daydream. I'd give anything, but I suppose I already gave up a lot.
Now isn't the time for daydreaming anyway, is it? I'm gone now, and our son needs a guide. He needs you. He'll always need you, so I need you to be strong. Stronger than you've ever been before, and I know you can do it. Daryl, you have an abyss of strength inside of you. You just haven't dived all the way into it, but I know you will, and our son will learn that strength by example. He'll learn from you all the things you wanted to teach him and the all the things we had to teach him. It's okay if you mess up here and there, that's how parenting can be, and don't worry, he'll forgive your mistakes. You need to forgive his, too, and you'll know which ones need that forgiveness when and if they come. Trust your gut, because...it's your best lead. And don't forget to involve your heart, too. You have to balance out hard and soft, tough love and just plain old love. It's...awful, but you'll love it. You'll love him, and you'll take care of him. Raise him and be his dad. You'll do great no matter what path you take as a father. There's no way you could fail as a parent, with or without me, because you've been a parent to kids before and an older brother. It's difficult and loaded with struggles and tears and arguments, but at the end of the day, you have a best friend and someone to survive for.
Speaking of surviving, I know how you feel right now. I know how you can't breathe, how the agony is spreading from your heart down to your limbs, and nothing is right. It's overwhelming and yet so empty. It's like the moon and the tides inside of you, and I'm not asking you to bottle that up. I want you to work through it, but please, Daryl, please don't do it alone. We have family who love you and would never judge you. You have Michonne and Denise. You have so many people behind you, and I want you to turn to them, lean on them, because you need that support now more than ever. I know how much you love me and how deep a hole this is digging inside of you, so for your sake reach out. Maggie is always there to listen, and Glenn is ready to talk. You know that people love you and want you to be okay. It'll take time, years maybe, but you'll get there, and you'll have Greyson. You'll have a tangible piece of me with you always. Remember all of the good times when you see him. Remember our love when you hold him. Forget all of the bad and all of the regrets, because this is how...everything was meant to be. It's grievous and heart-rending, and I wish that I could be there with you so we could burn this letter and hold each other, but I can't be. I won't ever be again, and...it's devastating to consider, but I have to go there, because it's your reality now.
It's getting harder to write this, and I can't see with tears in my eyes, so if the letters overlap, that's why. I want you to know that I will always be with in any way that I can. I will always love you and our son and our family with everything I have left. I am honored to be your wife and to leave mine and Tobin's son with you, because blood or no, marriage or no, he's yours. His love for you will only grow, and you will always be his dad. You'll always be my husband and my pookie. You'll always be a good man.
Here is where I leave you in ink and paper but never in spirit and love. There, I am always with you.
A cool breeze smacked him square in the jaw, drying his tears and blowing through his hair, and for a moment...one delirious moment he could have sworn he smelled Carol and felt her lips on his forehead. He closed his eyes to relish the illusion before it was gone, remembering all the times Carol had kissed his forehead, and he quivered when he thought he felt her small hand on his shoulder.
He forced air into his lungs and opened his eyes to his new life, and he stood up, holding the letter in his hands. He folded it carefully, placing it inside the pocket of his vest over his heart, and he set his hand over, gripping it then letting his hand fall. He mustered up all his strength and walked towards home. He walked towards where his son was waiting for him.
