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**Grace**

She was desperately trying to keep the place from falling down around their ears.

Nursing her newborn son, trying to keep Daryl from packing up and heading off after Carol, trying to save Andrea from proving herself right about Carol and Grace's leadership by acting like nothing was going to hell in a handbasket.

There came a point, when Daryl quietly entered her study, holding his baby girl, that she thought he was just going to dump the child in her lap and go, but to her amazement, he lingered, looking unsure, looking confused and lost.

Grace allowed him to stay and he took up residence in her comfy armchair, holding his little girl and quietly assessing the children from Ruth's group that also haunted her study.

And Blue, hovering behind Ruth and the kids, the sweet man offering every hour on the hour to go out and help look, not sure what to do with himself now that his kids were there and safe, now that the number was diminished.

Grace tried hard to encourage him to mourn his loss, but he wouldn't, he seemed to be trying to ignore the fact they lost so many little angels.

Daryl didn't go far from her now, he seemed so unlike himself that she worried more for him than for the pain in her abdomen from the invasive caesarian.

God help them all if her son turned out like his damned father! That irresponsible Cajun!

She was ready to turn in for the night, Lafayette five or Five as it seemed the rest of the group had taken to calling him, was just put down in his crib in her room, Daryl had slunk off to his ramshackle home with his girl and everyone seemed asleep, when Rick entered her study.

Grace gave pause, because he looked so unlike himself, and yet so much like he once was.

"Rick," she greeted as the man slunk to her desk, eyes on the pistol at his side.

He shifted on his boots.

"Have you come to reclaim leadership?" She teased, her tone had a bite to it from worry and lack of sleep.

Behind her, from his perch on her credenza where he seemed to have taken up permanent residence watching over her like a mother hen, St. James snorted.

Grace waved the man off, but as per usual he ignored it, going back to the book he had been reading. The pain was lessening, it only hurt now when she moved wrong, if she held herself right there was no stretching of her muscles.

"No," Rick returned.

Waiting for the man to spit it out, Grace sighed and gently eased back against the chair. "Rick, honey, I love you, but shit or get off the pot."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm heading out."

Grace looked up from where she was rubbing a finger over the leather blotter of her desk. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm going to look for them."

At that moment, she spied Daryl slink back into her study, free of his little one, having put her down for the night.

"For who?" Daryl growled.

"Carol and the Lieutenant," Rick said.

"There's already enough people out and about, Rick," Grace said. "Honey, I don't want you out there."

"I'm not asking your permission," Rick said. "I'm telling you."

"I'm not saying you can't," Grace insisted. "I'm only saying that I don't want you out there. You're still recovering," she glanced over her shoulder to where St. James sat reading his book, eyes above the pages.

Their eyes met and she quirked a brow.

St. James closed the book with a thump and eased down from the credenza. "Rick, we have enough able bodies, you're still in recovery."

"I'm fine," Rick declared.

"Just let him go," Daryl said, flopping exhaustedly onto the comfy armchair. "Hell, why don't we all just go and run around like drunks trying to find our own assholes."

Grace got to her feet slowly, shoving St. James away as he moved to help her. "Rick, I'd advise you not to go, but I can't stop you."

"I can," St. James said. "Just let me get the Ketamine."

Grace cast him a chiding look, before turning her eyes back on Rick. "If you go, please take someone with you?"

Rick nodded.

"And be careful, please?"

Again the man nodded, moving in a kissing her temple, before pulling away and leaving the study.

Grace turned to Daryl who shrugged, then to St. James who tsked at her.

"Oh, don't cluck your tongue at me," she declared. "You're worse than an old woman."

He tsked again.

"Daryl, honey," she sighed. "Are you sleeping there again tonight?"

The man nodded sullenly.

"Is Scout in with mine?" She asked, making her way slowly to the door.

"Yeah."

Grace nodded. She didn't mind watching both babies, Scout was a sweet thing and Five seemed attached to her already, squirming and fussing more when Scout wasn't near.

"Grace?" Daryl called after her.

She paused at the door.

"Need anything?" He asked shyly.

She offered him a plastic smile. "No, honey, you get some sleep."

He nodded grimly.

"And try not to leave boot prints on my chair tonight," she griped, heading out into the hall.

Using the wall to support herself, she stubbornly refused St. James as he once more tried to help her.

"You hover over all your patients?" She snapped softly, trying hard not to wake those who were already asleep.

"Grace, do you know how long women need to rest after a caesarian?" He demanded. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself and you know it."

Reaching her room, she opened the door carefully and stepped inside.

St. James followed her right inside boldly and despite her protests, helped her get changed for bed.

Halfway out of her blouse, she winced as her stomach muscles pulled against the staples.

"You know," she said, hoping to cover her wince, "if Fate finds out you've seen me in my altogether, he'd have to kill you with his bare hands."

St. James smirked. "I'm a professional, Grace."

"I didn't know you could get a degree in being a nuisance," she replied archly. As the man with the medical degree helped her into her nightgown, she allowed him to finally help her completely, knowing that otherwise she'd really be in a mess. "Why are you such a nuisance anyways?" She demanded, pulling on her robe and sliding her feet into her slippers for the cold, long walk to the bathroom to brush her teeth and such before bed.

"You don't become a doctor for the money," he teased.

She smiled wryly and pointed at her shower kit for him to grab.

"Honestly," he whispered, following her down the hall, "I wanted to help people. Take care of them. Maybe save some lives."

Pausing for a moment as her stomach muscles twinged painfully, she rest against the wall and huffed.

St. James placed his hand on her elbow gently.

"You want to mother someone," she teased, "you should have had a child. At least they'll let you boss them around."

He was quiet, helping her into the bathroom and closing the door behind them.

"I had one once," he said after a few seconds.

She looked over at him in the dark of the bathroom. "Oh, honey," she gasped. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"He was three when this all happened."

Falling back against the door a little as the day finally hit her and she staggered in exhaustion, she whispered. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," he assured her, hand firmly on her elbow to keep her upright. "A lot of people lost their children. It's just…how it is now."

"You…" she bit her bottom lip. "Is that why you keep so close to me and Five?"

He smiled bashfully. "No."

"Or Adele and Celeste and Langdon?"

St. James shrugged. "Mothers and babies," he sighed. "Nothing more innocent and sweet than that." He helped her to the sink and stood behind her as she ran the water to wash her face. "I wasn't…they needed me at the base when…I got home and Danielle was…there wasn't much left of Kyle, he…she had turned first. I guess she didn't know, no one did. It happened so fast, we...if she knew, she wouldn't have locked herself inside with…I wasn't there."

Grace was quiet, looking at the man in the mirror as he stood behind her.

"I thought…for his first two years I thought I was…I did good. I was a good father, I…I think I was, but…" he broke off shaking his head firmly.

"Does anyone know this?" Grace asked him gently. "Have you told anyone?"

He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

She turned to face him, hand falling to her stomach. "You keep a lot inside, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Who cares?"

"I care," she said. "Everyone here seems to care genuinely about everyone else, honey…we care about you."

"I don't care about me," he said. "I was too much of a coward to kill myself…I…I didn't want to become one of those…I tried to…I had a pistol in mouth and…no." He shook his head. "I'm here to care for others, but I don't matter. These babies matter, you mother's…women, the wombs of the world, giving birth, keeping us going as a species, you matter, but not me. I'm just here because you're good people and…I travelled for a few months with those…the things they did. They were vile, vicious demons prowling the earth consuming souls, they…this place is…unlike any other. We do God's work here, we…we haven't given in to the viciousness of humanity. Not yet. Not ever if I still have a breath in my body."

Grace took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, honey, we've become a family and you are very much a part of this family." She pulled him down and kissed his cheek, hand moving to wipe away the unfallen tears. "Now, help me brush my teeth, because I feel like a rag doll whose stitches are about to give."

"That's kind of what you are," he snarled, sliding easily back into his neutral tone, picking up her toothbrush and applying toothpaste to it.

Grace kept her eyes on him the whole time, studying his face. She had never really paid any attention the man, he had come to them from a horrible group, the only decent one aside from Adele it seemed and…she really began to wonder about the others. The lives they lived, the past the left along the roadside, the memories, both bad and good.

God strike her down for being so self-absorbed. She was failing in her duty as a nun, even if she was a former-nun, she still felt that urge in her to do God's work.

What St. James had said, about them remaining good among a sea of wicked vipers resonated with her. Maybe that was something to uphold. That was what would set them apart. Show mercy and compassion, but spare no evil in their land.

"I never really got to thank you, Grace," St. James broke her thoughts with his rough rasping, dark velvet voice. "For allowing me to stay here."

She smiled at him encouragingly. "Well, your good heart and God's grace led you here. You got inside these walls all on your own."

"Not so much of a good heart," he murmured. "The things I let slip by in Martin's group…the things those men did…I'll never get them washed off me. I'm a coward."

"A coward is a man who runs and keeps running, honey," Grace objected. "You slowed down, you gave pause and you changed direction. We can't all be foolhardy and self-sacrificing like Lafayette or quiet and strong like Daryl, those of us who weren't forged in hellfire are strong in our own ways. Carol takes strength in bearing a child, despite this world already claiming one, Rick is strong because he's off to face his demons, Carl faces the world with such determination, Milton geared up and made a long, dangerous trek here on his own to get help for his people, Herschel lost everyone he loved and yet he keeps on with a smile. Strength isn't measured in the gun you tote or the lives you take, but in keeping your feet on the ground and marching on, despite the weight that gets added to your shoulders. You keep marching on, you keep kind and good and that takes strength. It's easy to sin, the hard part of life is not giving in to cruelty or base desires."

St. James was quiet.

Smiling, Grace huffed and leaned against him heavily. "I'm sorry, I'm getting so tired."

He supported her gently. "Let's get you to bed."

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itsi3 - Unexpected goo is always gross. ^_^

daisylou2013 - I probably shouldn't talk about the two people who've already requested a Carotenant(?)Farol(?) smut oneshot on tumblr, hmm? I also shouldn't mention I wrote one and it's over there somewhere...

Claire Randall Fraser - I also love their friendship. They've always had this weird understanding and I didn't even intend for it to happen...

vickih - I always think it's funny how boobs can get in the way...those pesky, squishy things...

Yazzy x - I'm working on more Merle/Abe interactions...I also really, really want Milton and Eugene to meet and interact...

Ciao Bella - I like to imagine Cash decided escaping was more important than dignity or ball safety...

Merle's Right Hand - Shortsey McGee may or may not be my new petname for you...

Brazen Hussy - Merle needs a bestie like Daryl and Fay...he needs an epic bromance.

Surplus Imagination - I'm beginning to feel like the Lt. will flirt with anything...