Kit could be an early riser when she wanted to be and this was one of those mornings. She tiptoed over to her pack, unzipping it slowly so Daryl wouldn't hear, to pull out the test from her run with Glenn, though she was already pretty sure what the results would be.

Finding an empty cell at the very end of the cell block, she took the test, only having to wait on the results, now. The anxiety killed her – not just the anxiety over whether the result would be positive or negative, but also over what would happen if it came back as the former. She wasn't at all prepared for the former. The minutes ticked by slowly, Kit counting each one out exactly in her head, before the time finally came and her eyes drifted to the little plastic stick she had left on the other side of the cell. She picked it up, nauseous with apprehension now, and saw exactly the result she had been expecting: the former.

Sliding to the floor, she struggled to hold in the cries that wanted to escape from her mouth. "Fuck," she whispered, her mind trying to work through what to do.

More importantly, how would she tell Daryl? After all, neither of them had been eager to have kids because this was clearly not the time to be having them and anything could go wrong. He would probably be just as upset as she was. Imagining the look on his face when she told him was enough to bring on a couple silent tears. How would she be able to discuss the new crisis with him without completely breaking down, hating herself for doing this to him?

One thing was absolutely certain; she couldn't tell him until she managed to pull herself together so they could have a level-headed conversation about what to do. She owed him that at the very least. Until then, she would have to suck it up and act as if nothing was wrong. Besides, she had a lot to think about in the meantime.

With that decided, she composed herself and headed back in the direction of the perch, shoving the test and all evidence of it back into her pack. Even as she crawled back into bed with the sleeping Daryl one single phrase continued bouncing through her brain like it was a pinball machine. What the fuck would she do? She couldn't even think the word baby, nevertheless say it.

Daryl never one took his eyes off Kit during breakfast. This was not only due to the fact that she wasn't eating again, but because something was…off. He had always considered her to be reasonably calm and collected – especially when compared to some of the other members of the group – but right now she was tense, on edge; very unlike her. Her tell – leg bouncing up and down – was in full swing. She was also cleaning her glasses compulsively – a nervous habit she had picked up since the farm. Even when everyone was preparing to go looking for the cafeteria and the infirmary, she had a numb look on her face, as if her mind was very far away from the task at hand. He would try to find out what was going on later that night.

While their 'away-team' was wandering through the dark, twisted hallways of the prison, Daryl couldn't help but continually steal glances at Kit – on more than one occasion catching her doing the same. She looked sick. "Ya look like hell," he told her quietly.

"I'm fine," she whispered, eyes ahead of her. "It's just the smell of the bodies in such a confined space. You know I don't have a strong stomach."

Now he knew that she was lying about something. Yes, he couldn't deny that Kit was more sensitive to the smell of rotting bodies than he was, but she hadn't looked sick from the stench for a long time now. Before he could call her bullshit, though, they came upon an enormous group of walkers that left them with only one option: run.

Daryl was at least grateful for the fact that he and Kit were right next to each other at the front of the posse, always within each other's sights. As they looked for Glenn and Maggie – who had become separated – they heard Herschel's screams, telling them that this little expedition had gone very wrong very fast.

They all burst into the cafeteria, with Daryl, T-Dog and Kit holding the doors as Rick amputated Herschel's leg on the spot. "Are you okay?" Kit asked him. "No bites?"

He nodded. "Same?"

"Yeah." She glanced over at the unconscious Herschel, heart wrenching in anguish for him and the amateur amputation he had to endure, if he lived long enough.

Kit and Daryl ran over to Herschel to see if they could do anything, when Daryl nodded towards five bodies standing not too far away. "We can handle five."

She took out her knives in response and they approached the bodies carefully when they both became aware that these were not walker bodies. Especially when one of them gasped "Holy shit."

"We need to get Herschel out of here, now!" Rick insisted, while the pair kept their attention on the prisoners.

"Ya'll come on outta there, now," Daryl told them and they filed out into plain view.

"What happened to him?" one of them asked, clearly referring to Herschel.

"Got bit," Daryl explained, which caused the prisoner to pull out a gun.

T-Dog responded in kind and Kit pulled out her rifle. "Ain't nobody gotta get hurt," Daryl said calmly – very un-Daryl like, in all honesty. But before any more questions or answers could be thrown around, Herschel took precedence and they wheeled him back to their cell block.

It soon became clear that they were being followed by the prisoners – Kit couldn't blame the poor bastards for that, though – so when they finally arrived at Cell Block C, she and Daryl stayed behind. "You ready, Dex?"

"As ready as you are."

With knives and crossbow trained on the entrance, all they had to do now was wait. Once they entered, Kit gave them a warning. "You don't come any closer. Try anything, and I'll nail your balls with these," she informed them, lifting a knife only slightly. "I don't miss."

"This was my cell block, gringos," the tall Hispanic one said. "Let me in."

He gave Kit the creeps, but thankfully Daryl had made it his mission to get them to leave. "It's yer lucky day, fellas. You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia – free ta go."

While the others appeared willing to leave peacefully, Hispanic guy was having none of it. "This is my place, my rules."

"Good luck with that," Kit told him. "You can decide for yourself who has the better odds, here." She kept her voice calm and steady, but added a menacing edge to drive them away.

"I don't need sass from some little priss like you, girlie. I ain't afraid of you."

"I would be," Daryl snorted, "If one of those knives was pointed at me. That 'priss' could take down your sorry ass any day."

"I'm also willing to bet an arrow in your face wouldn't feel very nice," Kit added.

Things were continuing to escalate when Rick entered and tried to calm things a little. "There's no need for this." When one of them asked why they weren't taking Herschel to a hospital, they knew that something was definitely amiss. "How long have you been in there?" Rick asked.

"About ten months."

"Holy fuck," Kit whispered.

The prisoners continued their story about being locked in the cafeteria by a guard, hoping the National Guard would be showing up. "There is no army," Rick informed them. "No government…nothing is left."

"For real?" Blondie asked.

"No, we're completely shitting you," Kit replied sarcastically. "It's like your friend said earlier: why would we be living in this place if the alternative wasn't even worse?"

"I need to call my old lady," one of them said urgently. "Do any of you got a cell phone or something?"

"Ya jus' don't get it, do you? There ain't no cell phones no more 'cause there ain't nothin' left," Rick responded irritably.

"My guess would be about seventy-five percent of the population has been wiped out, including those that didn't survive the winter. That's a conservative estimate, mind you and it's not as if we have any sure way of knowing," Kit informed them, giving her rough approximation.

When they headed outside Kit and Daryl kept shooting each other 'can you believe this shit?' looks as the prisoners took in their first real sunlight in months. They both kept their eyes on the Hispanic guy, though, because they could already tell he was going to be trouble.

"Ain't no way they cleared this yard out. Must be fifty bodies here."

"We cleared it out," Daryl drawled. "Ya can even check their skulls for our bullets, if yer tha' skeptical."

"Where are you guys from, anyway?"

"Atlanta," Rick replied vaguely, though it was still obvious to anyone with a brain that Kit wasn't from anywhere even near Georgia. "We ain't planning on leaving, either. At least not anytime soon."

The Hispanic guy clearly had some type of testosterone problem, or something along those lines, because he continued to act as if he owned the entire place. "This is our prison," he insisted.

"We heard you the first time and the answer is still the same: no it isn't," Kit told him calmly and coldly. If she were to be honest, Kit may not have been as eager to see them leave if Mr. Owns The Place hadn't been so aggressive. The others seemed alright. Or, at the very least, they weren't as mouthy.

"We cleared this place, just like Rick said, so we're keeping this cell block whether ya like it or not." Daryl still had his crossbow firmly in his hands, wanting nothing more than for the prisoners to hit the road.

He began threatening them, and weapons were drawn once again before Blondie appeared to have a diplomatic streak. "We can try to work this out so everyone wins. We can take another cell block," he suggested reasonably.

Kit decided to begin ignoring the other guy and turn her attention to Blondie. "A great idea."

"Or ya can try yer luck on the road." Daryl didn't want these guys anywhere near the group.

The tall Hispanic guy huffed indignantly. "If these four pussies can take out a cell block, so can we." (This elicited a dubious snort from Kit and Daryl who had both given up trying to mask their disdain for him.)

Eventually, they came to the agreement that in exchange for half the food in the cafeteria, their posse would clear out a cell block for the prisoners.

When Kit and Daryl inspected the pantry she cried "Only a little left, my ass!"

Daryl and Kit were beginning to place weapons out on a table the prisoners could use to take out walkers; after all, they had to learn sooner or later how it was done. Tomas looked the two up and down, sizing them up. "So you actually fight those things?" he asked her.

"Yep." He didn't look as if he believed her but Kit didn't give a damn. She just wanted him far away from her – the further the better.

Finally heading deeper into the prison, walkers became present but the prisoners chose to ignore every piece of advice that Rick, Daryl, Kit and T-Dog had given them. "Morons," she muttered. The three men with her turned and gave her a look that said they agreed. At least the idiots finally were getting it the second time around before one of them was scratched.

Tomas, the problem child, continued his problematic pattern when he killed the poor guy without any mercy or remorse in his eyes as he did so, prompting mirror concerned glances between Kit, Daryl, T-Dog and Rick. He would probably have to go. This proved true when he nearly killed Rick, sending a walker right towards him. The time for niceties was over.

While Rick ran after Andrew, Daryl ordered the other two onto their knees, crossbow ready. Though Kit hated to admit it, Blondie's pleas had an effect on her. He had been the one attempting to be reasonable – trying to rein Tomas in when they were 'negotiating'. Her gut told her that Oscar and Axel were actually decent men and if her time with Daryl had taught her anything, it was to trust her gut.

The ex-Sheriff appeared more pitiless than her, but she had to speak her mind. "Rick, let's just let these two go. Enough people have died today without throwing them into the mix." Kit still had one weakness that remained from the farm: she didn't like killing people who might be innocent – even if it was the safest approach. Every time she even considered the thought, Dale's face would pop up in her mind, eliminating any chance of altering her feelings.

Her words had the desired effect – something which stunned Kit – when Rick lowered his knife and began to lead the two towards their new cell block where the bodies were lined up neatly up and down the floor. (Rick didn't even put up a fight when Kit protested – very unusual for him.) The poor bastards were clearly still recovering from their unbelievably long day - in no way mentally prepared for cleaning the block out.

"These were my friends. Good men!" Axel cried.

"This is sick, man," Oscar agreed.

Rick left and Daryl offered his apologies for the death of their friends, telling them that it was even worse outside but leaving the two to do this all by themselves didn't sit right with Kit. Realizing how difficult it would be to adjust to this new world all at once, she made a silent vow to come back later and help.

Herschel was alright and it appeared as if the group had made it through another day, if a little worse for wear. Kit sat down where they had eaten breakfast that morning, exhausted from the events of the day from the moment she had woken up until now. A bowl of food was placed down in front of her, put there by Daryl. "Ya gotta eat somethin'." She began eating, almost more for his sake than her own but she froze when Daryl said "I know somethin's up." Her grey eyes met his blue and for a single terrifying moment she thought he had found the test in her backpack. "I jus' hope ya know I'm here fer anythin' ya need – hope ya know ya can trust me."

She relaxed a little. It wasn't completely surprising that he had ascertained she was agitated about something but she had hoped for a little longer before he caught on. "I know I can trust you," she responded slowly. "All I need is a little time and then I'll explain. I promise."

Daryl appeared relieved that she didn't intend to keep it to herself forever. "Thank you," he sighed, comforted by the knowledge of their impending conversation, whatever the subject may be. "Keep eatin'," he insisted, realizing he had distracted her from it.

She nodded, sorry she would have to slip off later.

Daryl was cleaning himself up when Kit took his set of keys from their spot on the perch, leaving a note telling him that she would be back later, only wanting some fresh air.

Instead of getting the fresh air she had used as an excuse she stole away to the cell block where Axel and Oscar were undoubtedly feeling completely overwhelmed by their new situation. When she stepped inside, the two jumped, thinking she might be there to hurt them. "The gun and knives are just a precaution," she told them quietly. "More for the walkers than for you." She swallowed hard, knowing she was breaking Rick and Daryl's trust by being there. "I'm here to help you dispose of the bodies properly, as long as you're willing to do it."

"I thought Rick didn't want your people anywhere near us," Oscar said dubiously.

"Technically speaking, I'm not supposed to be here but I thought it was cruel to suddenly throw you both into the deep end without a life jacket."

They appeared flabbergasted by her presence but accepted her help anyway, dragging the bodies out together. Watching the bodies go up in flames, she turned to the other two. "You really are lucky, you know. Ten months here is nothing compared to the ten months we've spent out there. Only about three of those months weren't a constant hell and even then we could never feel completely at ease."

"What happened to your family?" Oscar asked.

"I had to put them down." It seemed like such a long time ago now that so much had passed. These events were from a past life that was now very distant from the one she currently led.

Axel noticed the ring. "Yer husband, too?"

This actually got her to smile. "No, he and I met after the outbreak. He was the one with the crossbow." Maybe she shouldn't have been telling the two prisoners this, but the pride she felt over the fact that she had paired with Daryl got the better of her. She also felt as if she needed to explain the group's behavior. "This group of ours is the only family any of us have left and that's why we've been so guarded and protective. If we're not wary of others, that can get someone killed. Honestly, I'm hoping you guys can join us before too long but until then I guess this is good-bye. Take care of yourselves."

They really weren't bad men.

Only a few miles away, Merle was eyeing Andrea and Michonne up and down, wanting to get some answers out of the blonde. "You seen ma brother?"

Andrea shook her head sadly. "Not for a long time."

"Makes two of us," he grumbled.

"He went back for you. He and Rick. Daryl wanted to keep looking but things happened, people died… a lot of people died. Amy was one of them."

"She was a good kid," Merle said quietly, not sure how else to say he was sorry for her loss. "What 'bout Petite? She was always good fer a laugh."

"Kit and Daryl stepped up when we wound up on this farm. By the end, I think both of them were valued members of the group."

"Now they're dead."

"I don't know that. I was separated from the others by a herd."

"How long ago?" he asked, wondering if it was possible for him to find his brother.

"Seven or eight months ago," she sighed. She wasn't sure whether or not Merle would care to know about Kit and Daryl but she figured it might make him happy so she went for it. "Daryl had paired up with Kit by then," she continued. "If they made if off the farm together, she'd be looking out for him."

Merle's mouth almost dropped in shock. "Daryl and Petite? The one with the goddamn cat?"

Andrea nodded. "I think they were good for each other. She almost went with Daryl to Atlanta so she could find you.. Once Daryl knew you were gone, she was there for him as much as she could be."

At that time, Merle knew one thing and one thing only: he was going to find Daryl if it was the last thing he did. Maybe he could knock some sense into him. Fucking Petite, he thought. What had Daryl been thinking?

Herschel was sitting upright, doing surprisingly well considering the physical trauma he had endured not so long ago. Kit was debating whether or not now would be a good time to talk to him, but given the fact that almost everyone else had their attention elsewhere, it seemed now would be as good a time as any. She approached him, not quite sure how to begin.

"You look like a woman who has something to say," he commented.

She sat down next to him on the bed and took a deep breath. "I have some questions," she began nervously. Herschel's eyebrows rose to show she had his full attention. "I'm pregnant and I want to know whether or not you could perform an abortion."

He blinked a few times, as if trying to determine whether or not he had heard her correctly before thinking over her question. "I can't say that I have any experience in performing a procedure like that," he told her. "My own personal feelings regarding the subject aside, I still refuse to do it because we don't have the required materials here to do so safely. I won't; it's too risky."

Palm rested against her face, Kit sighed miserably. "So I don't have any options, then?"

It hurt Herschel to see her so upset – understandably so – but his concerns for her welfare were genuine and he hoped she could understand that. "If we were to somehow acquire the materials I would need, then we could have a conversation about how to proceed."

Kit lifted her head, interest piqued. "You would be willing if you thought it could be done safely?"

"Possibly. Have you told Daryl yet?"

"No. I wanted to know what options I had available. Assuming we're on the same page after that conversation, I intend to look for those supplies and get them. I haven't come to any sort of a concrete decision yet but I don't want to be trapped, Herschel. And I'm undeniably inclined to have an abortion, though you had probably gathered as much. I appreciate that you were honest with me."

"I suppose I don't have to tell you not to be too hasty with your decision?"

"I'm not thrilled about the prospect of it, so I'm thinking the matter over very carefully, yes. I also don't know how Daryl feels and that will be a factor in my ultimate decision, as much as I'm dreading that conversation." The thought of that alone was enough to make her borderline hysterical. "Can I invoke doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Of course. But regardless of what happens, the rest of the group is going to find out, you know. An abortion here in C-block would be difficult to hide…as would a pregnancy."

"I'm aware. I just need time."

"I'm sorry that you have to go through this," he told her honestly. "I truly wish you didn't have to make the decision in the first place – nevertheless live with the results of either option."

She nodded, composing herself before leaving his cell and continuing her work for the day. Some of the others may have noticed her talking with Herschel, but they would have found nothing amiss with that. Nobody would have been close enough to hear, thankfully.

In a few days, once she had finally pulled herself together, she would tell Daryl.

A/N: I know I'm a horrible person for waiting so long to update and I really am sorry. Hopefully this chapter wasn't a disappointment, though I'm aware the premise is a little cliché. I do promise to shake things up a little, though, so bear with me if you can. As always, feedback is much appreciated.