Rubble and torn up concrete broke up under his feet as he ran through the dark hallways of the prison. There wasn't much light at all and it was real hard for him to see more than a few feet in front of him. He could hear Walkers all around them, but he wasn't sure exactly where they were on account of not bein' able to see. The stone walls echoed somethin' too, trickin' his ears.

He'd secured Lil' Ass-Kicker to his chest with two hastily tied knots, without slowing down. She was makin' a weird kind o' sound; it was barely a cry and he hoped it didn't mean there was somethin' wrong with her. He wondered if she was cryin' for her Ma, but then figured that was a pretty stupid idea. Baby was barely even a couple of hours old. No way she even knew who her Ma was... or that she would remember her at all, probably.

The halls were full of Walkers, moving in packs of different sizes. He did his best to avoid them, but it was hard with the baby makin' that sound, drawin' em in. He'd tried to do what Lori had done, rubbin' her back and head, but it'd just pissed her off more. Little thing was probably hungry, but they didn't have a thing to feed her. He'd have to do a run to find somethin' soon. And some diapers too, seein' as how she'd already taken a piss and a dump in the shirt that he'd wrapped her in after she'd been born. It smelled awful, but he figured they'd deal with it later when they weren't being chased down.

Maybe that's why she was cryin' like that. 'Cause she was covered in shit and piss… hell he'd probably be pissed about that too if it was him. He wondered why there were so many damn Walkers in the building and where'd they'd come from.

Lil' Ass-Kicker started to squirm against his chest - she'd worked herself up into one hell'v a tiff, her little legs curled up. Daryl looked down at her to see her head bobbin' wildly as his body rose and fell with each stride he took. He'd forgotten babies had shitty necks. Reachin' down he closed his palm against the back of her head and pulled it to him to keep it in place.

Her cries quieted and he looked down at her again. She had closed his mouth around the button on his shirt and was makin' a sucking sound. "Ain't gonna get nothin' from that, sweetheart," he told her, pulling the shirt away. He wasn't sure what'd been splattered on his shirt since Carol'd last cleaned it, but he figured it wasn't somthin' a baby ought'ta be putting in its mouth. "Don't worry, I'll getcha somethin' soon 'nough," he promised.

He wondered what they'd feed her now that Lori was dead and he was surprised when his heart hurt a little, like he had a stitch or a pulled a muscle or somethin'. Shouldn't've had to happen, him leavin' her behind like that. Wasn't right… but he'd make sure the baby got back to Rick… and Hershel, like Lori'd asked. He'd take care of her.

The door to C-Block was closed when he got to it and he pounded on it with the back of his fist. The lock rattled and then it opened. Daryl shoved his way past Glenn and found himself in the common area, the rest of the group scattered around. They were all just watchin' him like he was one of them freaks in a side-show as he stood there, chest heavin', the baby suckin' on his button again, whimpering into his shirt.

His eyes met the boy's first - Carl, who was standin' next to the younger Greene girl, both their eyes wide like they ain't never seen a baby before.

Daryl looked to Rick next. Their leader was further back by the windows, his hand restin' on the butt of his sidearm. They locked eyes for a long ass time and then he saw Rick's eyes flick over his shoulder toward the door he'd just come in. Everyone else looked to the empty frame, too.

"Where is she?" Rick finally asked, his voice guarded.

The word dead caught in Daryl's throat. He'd thought he'd be able to say it out loud, like it was no problem. Lori wasn't the first to die and wouldn't be the last neither. But it kinda stuck in his throat like Rick was holdin' it in place with that look on his face. Instead of sayin' it, Daryl shook his head. Words were bullshit anyway.

Rick released the hold on his gun and his arm rose, reaching out to Daryl as he took a step in his direction. Or maybe he was reachin' out for the wife who wasn't never comin' back. Tears were already formin' in the other man's eyes and Daryl wanted to look away. He wasn't much for this emotional kinda stuff… Rick'd be better off lookin' at someone else like that - someone who could offer him somethin'. Someone who hadn't been the one to leave her behind.

No one moved until Rick's hand closed over his face and a sob tore from his throat, like he was a savage Indian. "No!" The word came again and again, breakin' in the middle. The cop crashed to his knees on the ground before him and Daryl looked around the room at the others to see if they were gonna do somethin' about it. They all stood there, like useless sacks o' shit.

Daryl turned to the boy who was still frozen, starin' at the ground. He'd just lost his mother and no one had a single fuckin' thing to say about it. Daryl'd known that feelin'. Everyone lookin' at you like you'd grown another head.

"Bring the baby here," Hershel said from where he was sitting across the room, closer to the bars that led into their cellblock. Daryl had forgotten he was still holdin' her, she was still cryin' against him, her tiny balled fists and face goin' all red. He carefully untied the knots and carried the little girl over to the old man, then laid her in his arms.

"It's a girl," Daryl told Hershel, reachin' out to touch her little forehead with two fingers before he left her there to be seen to.

"Where did you leave her?" Carl asked, speakin' over his old man's cries.

Daryl took a step in his direction. "I didn't leave her," he insisted, like he owed the kid a damn explanation. He knew Carl didn't mean nothin' by it, but it wasn't like he'd done somethin' wrong anyway. "She couldn't keep goin'… she was bleedin'."

Carl nodded again and went back to lookin' at the floor. Daryl approached the boy and crouched down in front of him, restin' his hand on his shoulder. "She wanted me to tell ya that she loved you," he told him, feeling his throat tighten like someone was grippin' it. He tilted his head down so that he could see the boy's downturned face and the grip on his throat tightened again when he saw that his eyes were shinin' and bright with tears. He'd expected him to cry, but he hadn't expected it to make him feel all sick and knotted up inside.

"Where is she?" Rick asked again as he got to his feet, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand. The other man swallowed hard and he picked up a bloody fire axe that had been discarded on the floor within his reach. Their leader's eyes were wild, but his face was like stone, like he'd lost his fuckin' mind.

XXXX

Lori had waivered most of her life between being a believer and being an atheist, and then everything in-between. After the world had fallen apart she had leaned more towards non-belief, and now she hoped she was right. Because if she was dead, and this was heaven, then she felt sorely misled. Unless she was in hell - she was an unintentional adulterer, after all - that would make more sense. Hell would be the kind of place that might feel like hard concrete and stink of drying blood.

Everything was pulsing around her and she realized that it was her heart thudding slowly, but steadily, assaulting her painfully from the inside, as though it were punishing her for not being dead. Because she wasn't, apparently. But she was very very weak and she could tell her body was still failing her.

Consciousness alone was a challenge, so she let it go.

"They don't have a mother…"

"I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

"Maybe she got eaten."

Lori cringed at the conversation as it floated back to her from the depths of her memories… It hadn't even been that long ago, but it felt like a lifetime. Things had changed since then - her boy wasn't her boy anymore. He couldn't even look at her most days, and when he did, there was so much hatred and impatience in his eyes. She knew it was bound to happen - she'd taken too much for too long from him.

She'd counted on him to help her be a better person. She'd thrived on his innocence and goodness, maybe too much. It seemed some days that it had been all used up by this world, or maybe by her. Maybe she had sucked him dry while she had been trying to protect him.

"I'm a good mother."

Lori almost laughed as her own voice insisted from somewhere back in time. Closer to when all of this had started. Thin tears slipped from her eyes and slid over her temples.

"I don't want you to worry. Your mama's not goin' anywhere."

Liar.

"Carl," the word was barely a rasp in the otherwise silent room. Her voice was thick and felt sticky and dry in her mouth. Lori hadn't had a chance to apologize to him, for everything. She hadn't been able to tell him how much she loved him, how much she saw in him. How good, and strong, and brave he was…

Lori looked around the room - she was alone. And no one was coming.

She'd always relied on men for things: Rick, Shane, Hershel… and today Daryl. With Rick it had been the promise of a partnership and love. She was ashamed that with Shane it had been different. If one were to be crude about it, it came down to the basics of survival - she'd traded sex for safety and protection. And sweet old Hershel, who'd stepped into her life when her husband had all but stepped out. He'd become the friend that she hadn't deserved over the last several months.

And Daryl - her unexpected backwoods knight. She chuckled at the thought.

"She deserves a mother."

Lori's chest shuddered as his gruff voice resounded in her ears, like he had just spoken the words. Her sweet baby girl, who looked so much like her daddy and brother. She had Rick written all over her - she hoped Rick would see it too.

Lori'd been saved a million times. This time no one was comin' and it was about time she saved herself. It was her turn to be her own hero.

Her first movements were agonizingly slow. She used the rusty pipe that had been fixed to the wall closest to her. When her numb fingers connected with the metal they tingled, serving to pull her further out of her woozy confused state. The pipe felt solid, and it felt good to have something to hold onto.

She got to her knees first, and then looked down at the spot where she had been laying. She felt the loss over every drop of blood that was pooled on the concrete. The next step was to get to her feet, and she trembled viciously with the effort. Her body started to give out, but she clung to the wall - if she went down now she wouldn't be getting back up. She shuffled towards the stairs, bent-double, clutching her stomach.

The desk that had been pushed up against one wall served as a valuable resting point, and she used the opportunity to find a weapon. A wooden handled carpenter's knife rested next to an old black land-line telephone, and she picked it up. The wood was well worn and smooth against her palm as she pushed away from the desk and staggered the rest of the way to the stairs. She'd never felt as determined in her life as she did in the moment.

She knew that when she died she'd come back as something else… but she had never imagined that it would be a better and stronger person… someone she liked just a little more than the one she had even that morning.

Lori slowly pushed the damaged metal door open and peered out into the dark hallway. The Walkers were gone and she figured they had chased after Daryl and the baby… she hoped that she had held them back long enough for Daryl to get away. She clung to the wall, digging her fingernails into the concrete painfully as she fought back nausea and dizziness.

She knew she needed to move before another herd found her. She walked blindly, unsure of where exactly she was supposed to be going. Her pants clung to her uncomfortably and she was sure she was still bleeding heavily, but the shock had worn off, giving her a clearer head. The smell of blood was heavy in the air as she turned a corner and froze at the site of a couple of Walkers making a meal out of someone on the floor. The rest of the body had been ravaged but she recognized the pants that she had hand-washed a hundred times: T-Dog.

Lori felt tears blur her eyes, but she swallowed them back. The Walkers were so fixated on their meal that they didn't even notice her as she slipped past them and into the shadows. Another intersection came up quickly and she strained at the sound of her baby's cries echoing. Another sound pierced the air and she followed it: Rick.

Heart pounding, she pushed forward as quickly as she could. Dark splotches had begun to appear in the corners of her vision again, so she couldn't see it when the Walker suddenly stepped into her periphery. She was alerted to its presence only by the sound of its ragged breaths and the smell of its decomposing flesh. The dead prisoner's cold fingers reached for her and she pushed it away. Her minimal strength was barely enough to move it and it lunged at her. Lori's hand landed against its pasty rotting forehead and the skin felt loose against its skull, like it would tear away if she tugged on it. The thought disgusted her, but she kept her hand in place to hold it back. Its teeth lashed, centimetres from her wrist and it clawed at her. Lori gripped her knife tightly, then swung it upwards. The blade sunk into the spot just above the Walker's ear and it collapsed heavily to the ground.

Lori looked down to inspect her wrist; the skin hadn't been broken, thankfully. She stumbled away from the corpse and looked around her, maintaining her even breaths. It would her do no good to panic.

Her eyes scanned over the halls and she realized that she recognized the area.

Her body pitched forward and she collided with the wall across from her. Her feet felt like lead as she moved around the corner, breathing a sigh of relief when she was almost blinded by natural light. The door to their cellblock was open, and she could see Glenn's shirt-sleeve.

Rick's voice shattered her heart with its broken tone as it rose, "Where is she?"

The room came into view and she slumped against the doorframe, barely standing on her quivering legs. "I'm here, love," she said softly, though she could hardly get her voice behind the words.

The horrible cold sensation that had plagued her in the hall earlier with Daryl was back, and her body gave out on her. Her collapse was gradual as she slid down the wall. Her husband let go of the axe that he had been holding and it clattered to the ground. He started to stride towards her, but Glenn reached her first and her head lulled to the side until it was resting on his shoulder.

Hand's fumbled to support her rag-doll body and she felt someone's slide under her knees. Rick was lifting her and she heard Hershel's voice before there was nothing…

…When she came to she was on a bottom bunk and Rick was pulling her pants off. The fabric stuck to her painfully and he muttered an apology as he tore it away, along with her underwear with the clotted sopping paper towels. The scene appeared as though she was looking at it from under water and she whimpered as she felt her legs being guided open.

Her husband's hands cupped her face and she could feel him shaking as he peered at her with red swollen eyes. "Hold on, baby," he muttered. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, and then he was gone again to help Hershel.

Another voice caught her attention and she looked blearily towards it. "Where's Carol?" Daryl asked.

Her son's voice answered from somewhere over her shoulder. "We don't know… they found her scarf."

Everyone seemed to still and look over at Daryl and Lori wanted to tell them to stop… She didn't get the words out in time before he froze and pushed his way out of the room, past Maggie who was now holding the crying baby against her chest.

Her eyes fluttered closed and the room went silent again and faded away…

…Carl was holding her hand over her head and she could feel his smooth cheek against her palm as he hugged her arm. Rick was there too, cupping her face again, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as his grey-blue eyes bore into her own earthy ones. He was whispering something to her and she watched with fascination as his mouth moved…

…

She was in pain, but she felt comforted by waking to the pleasant sounds of the baby cooing. Lori looked over to find Daryl sitting next to her on a folding chair, his Lil' Ass-Kicker cradled in his arms, the man and baby looking into each other's eyes.

Lori cleared her throat. "Where is everyone?" she asked, looking around the small cell.

"Glenn's diggin' graves," Daryl didn't look surprised to find her awake. "Rick went with Carl and Maggie to search that infirmary in the other buildin'… you were right; they got one there too." He got to his feet and ducked under the bunk so he could lay the baby down in the spot between her and the wall. The baby started to fuss as soon as he moved away to take his seat again. Lori moved her own hand to rest it on her daughter's chest as he continued. "Hershel said you'll need antibiotics. Figured I'd go on a run later if they don't find none."

Lori nodded, offering him a small grateful smile. "And Carol?" she asked, but received no answer from the man who sat beside her, his head downturned and shoulders slumped, though his face remained impassive.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Carol had been her friend and she would miss her. She knew Daryl would too. Though he would never admit it, she knew. The two had bonded over the winter months and had formed a relationship that Lori had never been able to fathom.

"Should be," Daryl muttered without looking at her.

Lori paused, feeling her eyes widen.

"S'your fault. If you hadn't'a gotten separated… if you weren't such a lousy fuckin' shot…" he ranted. "Should'a just gone with Maggie and Carl - I could'a gotten to her. 'Stead I wasted the whole damn time on a roof and crawlin' through vents."

Lori looked down at the baby whose fussing had turned into full-hearted cries. She lifted the little girl onto her chest and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She accepted his anger with a nod, because it was what she could do for him after everything he had done today. He'd saved her life… and her little girl's.

She didn't offer him any further words, and though she felt the urge to reach out and take his hand, she resisted. Daryl had shown her today that he didn't need to talk, or to hug it out. He needed to rage against the world in his own quiet way, and grieve privately until he had built up another callous to protect his weak spot. He was an unstoppable force. He was unwavering, loyal to the bone, and brave. They needed him. And his own way he needed them too. His ways were harder to understand, but they weren't any better or worse than anyone else's.

He was just made different. And that was a good thing.