Daryl managed to get Rick up from the ground, and onto his knees, but it didn't even seem like he noticed him doing it. He waved a hand in front of his face, but Rick just stared, not even hearing as Daryl spoke to him.

"Rick, you with me? Rick?"

A few metres away, Maggie handed the baby to Carl, before watching Daryl who was having no luck at waking Rick up from his trance.

"Let me see the baby," Hershel said.

Carl walked the small child over to Hershel, not looking up as he did so. He held the baby out for him to inspect. Hershel just looked at it, checking it with an occasional poke or prod as the baby continued to cry and cry.

The noise was starting to grate through my ears, and I had to release a breath that had been trapped in my throat since it started, turning away so I seemed less bitchy. Babies cried, that was what they did. That was all they did.

"What are we gonna feed it?" Daryl asked, turning away from Rick. "We got anything a baby can eat?"

Hershel was quiet for a second as he examined the small human. "The good news is she looks healthy," he said. "But she needs formula. And soon, or she won't survive."

Daryl shook his head. "No. No way. Not her," he was forceful. "We ain't losing nobody else. I'm going for a run."

"I'll back you up," Maggie said.

Glenn also took a step forward. "I'll go too."

"Okay, think where we're going," Daryl turned to the prisoners. "You two get the fence. Too many piles up, we got ourselves a problem."

Oscar and Axel gave a nod, running to where they could get some weapons to kill the walkers through the fence.

"Beth," he walked over to her, giving her some directions as he had done with everyone else, something I couldn't really hear. She gave an affirmative nod at whatever he had asked for, and Daryl turned to the cars. "Glenn, Maggie, vámonos!"

Metal scraped on the ground, and I saw that Rick had now stood up from where he was kneeling, grabbing his axe from the ground as he marched back inside the prison, ignoring the calls from me and Maggie.

Axe still in hand, I ran after him.

"Ace!" I heard Daryl yell.

I stopped, looking at him for a second. "You said we're not losing anyone else. That includes him."

I didn't wait for Daryl to try and stop me again, running into the building

Rick hadn't stopped in the cell block, and I thought I had lost him until I heard the sound of killing through one of the doors that led deeper inside the prison. I ran after him, into the darkened hallways, tapping my belt to make sure the keys were still attached. I did not want to get trapped somewhere in here.

There were one or two bodies near a door that led off into a different direction than the main path, and it was hard to tell which way he had gone until I heard him again, his echoes travelling down the main hallway.

I slammed the gate closed, locking it and whatever number of walkers there may have been in there before sprinting around the corner, to see Rick. He stood there, waiting for the walkers to approach him before he swung his axe.

There were three, no four, behind the first one, but Rick didn't care. He just waited longer, never retreating from the situation and going deeper into the onslaught of walkers, until he had taken them all down without being in any kind of danger. He had the situation under control.

Until he didn't.

A walker came out from a door near him, grabbing at his arm, and I pulled out my gun and shot it down before it got too close for me to comfortably aim around him. When he heard the shot, he spun around as fast as he could, drawing his gun from his holster and holding it up to me, but his hand lowered when he realised who I was. I took a step closer as he holstered the gun again, and turned away, back towards the path he was going to take.

I reached out for his wrist before he could take another step, "Rick—"

He grabbed the top of my arm, pushing me back and away from him with one hand. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt me, cause any damage. I never expected him to. There was no doubt in my mind that this was just a gesture to verbalise something he couldn't say right now, but whether it was asking me to stay or leave was another question.

Probably to leave.

I just stared at him, waiting for an interjection to my presence, a request for me to leave, but there was no such thing.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said.

There was more, nothing I could verbalise to him in his current state. If this was what he needed to do, then I would allow it, but he couldn't be alone if that were the case. Depending on his next directions means that he could get himself killed. Doors towards the generator room were open, swarmed with walkers, and if he found himself down one of those paths he could easily be overrun as we almost were.

Rick released my arm, turning away and storming off further into the prison, and I followed him. I could hear his yells as he attacked the walkers in his path with only the axe he had taken from the ground, and the corpses were left in a trail allowing me to follow him into the darkness easier.

I didn't really recognise the path he had taken, as none of us came this way when we were looking for the generators. Whether anyone else had been down here was another question, because there were no bodies ahead of Rick until he made it to each of the next walkers, killing them one after one after one.

Rick had finally stopped, a trail of bodies leading up to him. He could have continued, but after he took down the last walker, he just froze, facing a wall and panting heavily. I didn't try to engage him again, and thought that it would just be best to keep an eye on him from afar.

Footsteps at my side frightened me. Had I missed a door? I pointed my gun back down the hallway, but lowered it when I saw a torch aimed at me. The person stepped out into the light that shone down through the smallest window, and I saw a familiar yellow shirt.

"Ace?" Glenn stepped cautiously over the bodies that Rick had left in his path. When he reached me he glanced around, a frown on his face. "Is he here?"

I pointed down the hallway where Rick had stopped. Glenn gave a nod, a small sigh, relieved to see him still alive. Glenn being here confused me though, and I had to ask. "Are you back from the run already?"

"No, Maggie and Daryl went on the bike because the path to a store was covered in debris," Glenn explained, and then turned back to Rick. "Has he . . . has he said anything?"

"No, this is the first time he's stopped."

Glenn let out a long breath. "He can't stay in here."

"I've tried—"

"—I know, I'm not saying . . ." he trailed off with a small shake of his head. "I've cleared out our block, moved the bodies out. Everyone is inside now."

It was a surprise to me that Glenn was even here right now, let alone the fact that they had managed to clear out our cell block. If I'd have known I could have helped, but even then we would have no one here watching Rick.

"He won't come out?"

"I tried talking to him earlier, but . . ." I stopped myself, hesitant to even say what happened.

"But what?"

"Nothing. . ." I shook my head. It was not a priority to worry Glenn about how Rick had lashed out earlier. "He . . . he's running out of places to go."

"What do you mean?"

"We never came through these hallways to get to the generator room, so this place is still mostly locked up. I've closed the occasional door on the way here, but there can't be many more walkers past this point because only so many would have gotten through our block. And the path ends not long past here because we closed a lot of these hallways off when we cleared the block for the prisoners."

Glenn was quiet for a moment, staring at Rick as he thought. "I'll try talking to him, maybe get him to come back."

The idea worried me, but I could not get Rick back to the prison alone, and Glenn talking to him was the only thing we could do. I raised my hand, gesturing for him to go ahead, and watched as Glenn slowly creeped over to where he was.

Rick must've known he was there, he must've heard us talking, but he made no indication that it was the case. He stood, staring at the wall as he had been doing since he killed that last walker, taking a break or falling back into a motionless trance as he was outside.

"Rick?" Glenn called softly, creeping over to him, holding the torch in his direction. "Everybody's worried about you. You shouldn't be in here. Come on out."

Rick was looking at him now, breathing heavily as he stared Glenn down. His breathing was so loud, coming down from the high of killing the walkers. Despite seeing him, there was no response, the same as when I had been trying to get his attention, get him to stop or come back to the cell block.

Glenn moved around slowly until he was in front of him, now pointing his torch down and a hand up to show that he wasn't a threat or didn't want any trouble. "Rick. You don't have to do this all by yourself. Okay? Our cell block is cleared. We'll just close off all the doors again."

Rick wouldn't even meet his eyes, his face twitching as he glanced past Glenn or back down the hallway towards me. He didn't speak, didn't make any indication that he had even heard him, his hands jerking at random, like he wanted to say or do something, but just couldn't get it out.

"Rick, why don't you just come with me?" Again there was no answer. "Rick—"

As Glenn reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, to lead him back to the cell block, Rick grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, keeping him pinned there with an arm up to his neck.

I stepped forwards, "Glenn—!"

Glenn raised his free hand, stopping me as he continued to watch Rick. When he realised that Rick was not hurting him, or planning on doing anything else he tried to calm him down. "Yeah, yeah . . ." he whispered. "It's me."

Rick moved his hand to the back of his neck, and spun around, practically throwing Glenn to the ground away from him. Glenn scrambled to his feet, and Rick watched him. Watched us. As he turned away, facing down the next hallway, he only said one thing.

"Go."

He walked away, vanishing around the corner.

As I took a step to follow him, Glenn grabbed my arm. "No, come on."

"He's going to get himself killed!"

"The prison is locked up," Glenn reminded me. "He's coming to a dead end. There can't be many more walkers down this way, he's as safe as can be. We can't keep trailing him all day."

"But—"

"—He needs to be alone," Glenn was right, but the thought of leaving him alone in this state, in this corpse infested prison was the stupidest plan.

There was nothing else I could do for Rick, and I couldn't trail him forever, for many reasons. Nothing that would help right now. He needed his time to grieve, to let out his anger and frustrations. I just wished there was a better way for him to do that.

The prison was closed off around him, and he would only come across two or three more walkers before finding himself at the dead end. No matter how bad, this was the only option we had.

Just as Glenn said, everyone was back in the cell block, the people not working outside were here with the baby. It was still crying, but I knew that. She could be heard from across the prison, even when I was back with Rick the baby's cries echoed as though it was some kind of contest. That should have really been my first clue about how someone was here to clear the cell block out.

The gate squeaked closed, indicating our arrival and making Hershel and Beth aware of our presence. Beth stood up, and turned around, and Hershel from where he was sitting only had to turn his head to see us.

"Where's Rick?" Beth asked.

Carl looked back over his shoulder, the baby squirmed in his lap, letting out another cry. He looked angry, his eyes hard as he stared past me, to the now closed door. Still, there was sadness, as there should have been.

This shouldn't have happened. Rick and Carl shouldn't be feeling like this. No one should have died. If I had just made sure Andrew was dead in that courtyard, made sure he was bitten, or even just shot him myself, then none of this would have happened.

They deserved better than this.

"He's not coming," Glenn said, but added quickly. "He's safe, though."

Carl frowned at that, and his head flicked back. He stood up with the baby in his arms and walked out of the common room, into the cell block where the screaming echoed around the concrete walls. Maybe he was angry with his dad, his absence. Part of me understood, but I knew that while both their grief was different, both were also necessary.

I had gone through the same thing with my own dad.

"How is he safe?" Hershel was not being angry or sarcastic as he asked, but more genuinely curious of the statement.

"The area around him is closed off," Glenn explained briefly.

"That means nothin' else can get to him, right?" Beth chimed. "That's good."

"It is good," Hershel agreed.

At least they thought so.

I wished Rick would've come back, at least making him one less thing to worry about as we regained control of the prison. We needed to get this place back to the standard it had been before Andrew ruined everything.

Glenn let out a long breath. "I'm gonna head outside, wait for Maggie. They shouldn't be gone much longer."

As Glenn left, Beth stood up. "I should check on Carl," she said, and walked into the cell block where Carl had gone.

I sat down on one of the benches, leaning back against the table and letting out a sigh. I was achy, and tired. Everything I had done today had taken so much energy, and no matter what else there was that needed to be done, I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep.

Not that I could with the baby crying in the next room.

Hershel moved along his bench, now closer to me. "How is he?"

I could only assume he was referring to Rick, as he was the only person I had been in contact with since leaving everyone in the courtyard.

I only really had one answer for that question. "Alive."

That was definitely the best description for Rick right now.

Despite him and Lori being on egg shells for the last few months, it was hard to see what he was going through losing her. It hit more close to home than I realised, reminding me of how distant my own dad became after losing my mother. It took us months to get back to how things were, and even then, nothing was the same.

Hershel seemed to have no further enquiries about the leader, giving a nod in return. I just stared at the wall ahead of me, trailing any cracks in the wall or counting any marks to give my head something to do.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Hershel looking at me. "Do you need me to look at your neck?" Hershel asked.

"No, it's fine."

Honestly, the pain had gone. Hershel bringing it up was what reminded me that I had even been cut earlier that day. I barely felt anything, for that matter. Apart from my head, I just felt numb and achy. It had been a long day even before the prison was taken over by a sociopath and his band of walkers.

Unfortunately, the day was still not over.

On top of everything, the baby's cries continued, shredding my ears. I should have seen this happening, the fact that babies cry, the one thing they can do to signal that they need something, but now experiencing it, I knew this was going to be a hard thing to live through. In the coming nights, the baby would wake everyone in this echoey room, not just whoever it was staying with.

Part of me wished I had grabbed some earplugs on the road.

Or found a way to charge my iPod.

I groaned, leaning forwards in my seat, dropping my head in my hands. "Does it ever stop?!"

"Unfortunately, not until she gets food."

"We should have had that already," I muttered to no one in particular. We had been in so many houses, and while the majority had no baby food, we should have been aware that anything could have happened to Lori in childbirth, and that we should have had formula ready in case something did not go as planned.

"It was an oversight," Hershel agreed. "The winter was bad for all of us, though. It's not a surprise that it slipped our minds."

"These things don't normally slip my mind."

"You had your own problems in winter too."

"Don't remind me."

I hated thinking about it, what happened back then. Things hadn't gotten much better, seeing as we had only come across two people that hadn't actively tried killing any of us since the farm. Situations that put more of our group in danger were becoming more and more frequent, even more common than any good encounters.

I stood up, the sound of crying and the smell of the corpses now finally unbearable, both squeezing at my head until it felt like it would burst. "I'm going to move those bodies outside."

I had moved all the bodies out of the cell block, an action I was sure I had been doing all week. Hopefully, this will be the last time. It smelled a lot better, and gave me the opportunity to hide outside from the baby until it had gotten too dark and too cold to hang around outside any longer.

The sun had set completely before Maggie and Daryl made it back, each of them bursting through the door in a fast pace panic. Maggie was the first to enter, running down the stairs as she called out for her sister. "Beth."

Beth stood and followed Maggie across the common room, where she dumped the contents of her bag on the table. Amongst the rubbish, paper and plastic, there was a large, white container that I could only imagine being the formula.

Daryl was behind her, but he instead made a beeline for Carl, who was holding the baby. He pulled his crossbow from over his head, and knelt down next to them, and the baby who had not passed out yet, was still crying as loud as she could.

"How's she doing?" He asked, shushing the small girl.

Daryl placed his hands under the baby, and Carl tried to hand her to him, but his hands kept getting caught up. "Sorry, Sorry," he apologised quietly.

Daryl continued to shush her, gently bouncing the baby in his arms, whispering to the girl to get her quiet down, which actually seemed to work a small amount. She was still crying, still starving, but the act of bouncing her or just Daryl himself seemed to be calming her down enough that I could hear the pain building in my head.

The door creaked open behind him, and Glenn came back into the prison, followed by Oscar and Axel, now not needing to wait outside for anyone's return. Part of me had forgotten they were even staying with us, but after what happened in the generator room, throwing them out seemed rather cruel. I suppose.

Beth walked over to Daryl, handing him the freshly made bottle, and he fed it to the baby without a fuss. The crying stopped immediately, and the room fell into a silence. I felt like I could finally breathe, a weight lifting off my shoulders, and I laid my head down on the cold surface of the table, letting out a sigh. I turned my head to the side, still watching Daryl with the baby.

Daryl chuckled, glancing at the people around him, before looking at Carl. "She got a name yet?"

"Not yet," Carl answered quietly. "But I was thinking maybe Sofia. Then there's Carol, too. And . . ." he sighed, giving a small shrug, unsure, "Andrea. Amy. Jacqui. Patricia."

I hated listening to the list of names, all a memorial to someone important to the group, but completely impossible to choose between because they were all so significant in their own way. Baby names had not even crossed my mind, though, but it now dawned on me that we could not keep calling her 'It' or 'the Baby'.

"Or . . . Lori," he finished. "I don't know."

Daryl nodded, his eyes returning to the baby. "You like that? Huh? Lil' Ass-Kicker," the people around him laughed, and he glanced up with a smile. "Right? That's a good name, right? Lil' Ass-Kicker. You like that, huh? You like that, sweetheart?"

The baby had been passed around a lot after that, giving everyone a chance to see her. I however, did not hold the baby, still a little annoyed with the splitting headache that had been bestowed upon me since her arrival.

Carl had decided to go to bed first, handing the baby to Beth and muttering a goodnight to everyone as he walked into the next room. The chorus of 'goodnights' followed after him. He was a little happier now, with Daryl being back and giving his little sister the nickname of Ass Kicker, but I knew his mood would change all too soon.

Beth bounced her up and down in her arms, as Daryl had done earlier. "She needs somewhere to sleep. At least somewhere to put her down for the night."

"We could place one of the mattresses on the ground," Hershel suggested, "but they won't be very secure. Someone would have to be watching her all night."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah, we gotta have somethin' better around here."

"We don't," I shook my head. "The only thing better than that would be sticking blankets in one of those boxes from the food stores."

"I don't love the idea of leaving a baby in a cardboard box," Glenn said, with the faintest smile, but still concerned about the idea.

I had to suppress whatever annoyed look was covering my face, but I couldn't stop my mouth, "Oh, my bad. I'll start building that cot that we have."

Glenn's smile disappeared, and I immediately felt bad, but didn't have it in me to apologise at that second. Way to go, bringing the whole room down.

"Ace," Maggie scolded softly, glancing back at me, but I just kept my eyes ahead of me on the wall where they had been all along. She changed her strategy, trying to uplift the whole room, rather than just make everyone uncomfortable as she kept attention on my sarcasm. "It's been a long day, we can't do anything about it now. A box will be fine until we find a bassinet."

"About that," Hershel started, moving on. "We really should get started on finding some more baby things. This box of formula won't last forever, and we're going to need more than just that and diapers."

"We'll find something," Glenn said.

Daryl nodded. "Tomorrow, 'm gonna stay here, get working on taking this place back."

"I'll back you up," Oscar said.

"We can deal with the details tomorrow," Maggie said. I couldn't tell whether it was because she still didn't trust the prisoners, which was understandable seeing as she was not around when Oscar saved our lives in the generator room. "We should all get some rest now."

"Yeah," Glenn agreed. "I'm gonna get one of the boxes and some spare blankets for the baby."

I didn't bother acknowledging that he took my idea, because honestly it didn't matter to me that much. Instead, I just let out a long breath, laying my head down on the table, finally tired enough that I could fall asleep anywhere. This day never seemed to end.

Daryl came over, sitting down on the bench next to me. He placed his arms on the table, his hands resting in the opposite crook of his elbows. I lifted my head up, glancing at Daryl before looking down at the table in front of me.

"Hey," he started with.

Greetings? Strange for someone who hates people who take their time getting to the point. It was a miracle he hadn't punched me over that exact thing. "Hi."

"How's it been here?" Daryl asked.

I shook my head, giving a small shrug. "The same as you see it."

"That good, huh?" He said, nudging me with his elbow, a small smile on his face. I just kept staring ahead. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw that he was just nodding for a moment, maybe in understanding of my lack of reaction. After a second, he asked, "And Rick?"

"Still in there."

He didn't seem surprised or even fazed by the information, just gave a look that seemed like he already knew what the answer was. It wasn't that hard to guess, anyway. Now that I look back on it, there really was nothing I could do to convince Rick to leave the prison.

"Are you going to check on him?" I asked finally.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah, he needs to be by himself right now. Best we can do is keep this place running till he gets back."

I nodded, "Kind of putting a damper on everything I did to keep him alive."

"How are you?"

I shook my head, indicating that I had no intention of answering that question. The weight of the people we lost today still hadn't come down on me yet, and at this moment, with my brain about to shut off at any moment, I wanted to keep that pain as far away as I could.

Daryl gave a nod, knowing, understanding. "Go on, go to bed."

I frowned, feeling the exhaustion as he mentioned it, but it felt wrong. My body may have needed rest, but how could I expect to just lie down after everything that had happened. Not to mention everything that still needed to be done. My thoughts felt sluggish as I tried to think of an argument. I wanted to help, I wanted to get things done, I wanted us all to be safe. I wanted to take a nap.

I felt Daryl's hand grip my shoulder before he patted it gently. "Get some sleep."

I sighed. I really had no energy to argue, that meant it was serious. Then, just like that, with my realisation and Daryl's permission, my brain seemed to take it all as permission to finally shut off. Without him there it felt like I had to take care of everything myself, which I wouldn't have minded so much if the things that needed to get done was the impossible mission of trying to help a grieving man get over the death of his wife.

"Yeah, okay."

I pushed myself up, muttering a good night to Daryl before walking into the cell block. In my cell I changed into more comfortable, cleaner clothes, before collapsing onto my bed. As I laid there, able to hear the sound of my own breath, I realised that finally it was silent.