He watches her sleep because it still doesn't feel real, that she's here. He'd spent a lot of nights on watch with her curled up alone in the suckass camp in the woods, after the prison fell; but then he'd worked hard not to look at her. It'd been easier then, to try not to be involved in life. To not get close. To not care anymore.
But now, he stares. He still had his boots on, and his jacket and vest, he had a crick building in his shoulder, but it was ok. He'd sat high on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and listened to Beth breathe until she'd fallen asleep right along with Lil Asskicker.
He didn't know what to do.
He figures he's going to have to find the word, the label for what was inside him. For her. He at least knew he wasn't going to be able to live in denial. He'd have to admit it to himself, at the least.
He knows he'd die to keep her alive.
He lets out another sigh, content to rest his dirty hand on Judith's clean onesie-covered back. Beth is right there, close enough that he could touch her if he was comfortable enough with it. He may not know what he's going to do about what was between them, but he knew everything else he was going to do now. Keep them alive. Rick and Maggie and Glenn. Beth, Carl, Judith. They were the truest family he'd ever known, as guilty as he feels for putting them in a different league than Merle.
He loved Merle, they had blood and history and they would have done anything for the other. But not like he was with Rick, definitely not the way Beth lived inside him.
He's yanked out of his thoughts when Maggie's voice breaks the silence, a muted, "Hey."
He thinks about pulling his hand up quick off Baby Judith's back, but thinks about Maggie tellin' him he was part of their family, with or without his connection to her baby sister. He thinks about how it's a kind of validation she gave him, without being obvious, without makin' it hard for him to swallow. He relaxes the tendons in his fingers. He doesn't need to nod, just meets her eyes, he feels so calm for a moment.
Maggie only sort of smiles. Not a true smile. Not a distinct one. Just an ease around her mouth that made him think she might call the scene "adorable" if he was more playful. She asks, "You want a turn on watch?"
He's never not had a turn on watch. Does he want to leave this make-believe world for it? Not really. But with them here, people that needed his protection, that he had to keep alive, he couldn't imagine slacking now.
He's careful when he pulls out of the bed. He looks around for a minute, like there's somethin' he should be doing. Like he ain't ready yet. Maybe he just wants to touch the girls, a goodbye, but he's too self-conscious with Maggie's eyes still on him.
She follows him out the bedroom, down the hall, off the stairs. In the kitchen, he rubs his eyes and looks at the stock of cans. He bets he'll get shit from Carl tomorrow when he takes the last two cans of Vienna sausages, quite a score.
She finally asks, "Can we talk?"
He shrugs, shoves another sausage into his mouth. "'Bout what?"
"Beth."
He glances up at her, from under his bangs, gauging where she's going with this. But her face is not hard, not resolved. It's easy, thoughtful. So he nods. "What about her?"
"I just... I wanted to thank you-" He tries to scoff it off again, but she trucks ahead, completely ignoring his defiance. "Beth. It's her, you know, but it isn't her. She's... I don't know. Better. But I think you had something to do with it."
He doesn't feel comfortable with all this gratitude when he still doesn't feel like he's... done enough. Because Beth shouldn't have had to do the things she'd done. And he should have killed Joe and them before they'd even caught up to Rick. Because they hadn't been prepared enough at the prison, in the event it fell. They'd scattered in the chaos, lost the baby- and in the hands of Carol, whom he wasn't sure they could trust sometimes.
He hated to have the thought, but it had been a while since Rick had told him about that, about Karen and David. He'd had time now to do more than react immediately. He knows he failed there, too; not noticing what was happening with Carol.
Maggie seems to understand his discomfort enough to change the subject, but not to anything that made him feel less awkward: "Carol's been wantin' to talk to you. I can tell."
He grunts.
He wants to bolt when she gets all direct-like, "I gotta ask you. Did you and Carol ever... have anything?"
He jerks his head in negation. Maggie nods unquestionably. "Just had to know. She's different, too. But not the way Beth is."
He sets his empty can down, finally speaks. "Yeah. It's her, but it ain't her."
There's some silence between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy with thought, until Maggie ends the conversation by saying, "I know you're a... I know you worry. About being a good man. Just thought you should know, Daddy wouldn't have minded you and Beth, I don't think. Neither do I."