AN: So I got this idea from my friend Miss Kiriyama over on Tumblr. And I just about lost my shit. So I had to write it. All credit goes to thekiriyamaheir (on tumblr) for the original post that inspired this.

I own nothing and worship in the house of Kirkman and Mazarra.

I need a tissue now. /cries/

-Shazzy

-By any other Name-

They had finally taken a moment to rest, and to grieve.

Their losses were so heavy that no one seemed to have the heart to go on.

Especially not Rick.

Daryl had taken over in Rick's stead as best that he could while their leader succumbed to his own grief. He'd made sure that everyone kept up with securing their new-found fortress. It wasn't easy, but he'd managed to keep everyone going without losing anyone else.

Hershel had been caring for Rick, as much as Rick would allow it.

Their leader had fallen into a near catatonic state. After he'd cleared out nearly an entire cell block alone.

Daryl had finally dragged Rick back outside.

No one was particularly keen on sleeping inside the prison, not while their losses weighed so heavily on everyone's mind, and Daryl didn't particularly blame them.

Even meals were sullen affairs. They'd lost too many people and when they were all gathered around their little cook fire was when it truly hit them the hardest. Everyone ate in quiet, contemplative silence. Not even the baby made a noise as Carl held her carefully, feeding her from her bottle.

"I finally did pick a name." Carl said, breaking the silence.

Every eye turned to look at Carl, the fragile sound of his voice breaking through even Rick's stone cold grief.

Carl hesitated for a moment, feeling suddenly very awkward. He shot a glance first at Daryl, then at his father, as if looking for permission. Rick gave him the faintest of nods.

Carl cleared his throat and announced his sister's name.

"Her name is Hope."