Time was hard to track when all you did was sleep in the back of a van for days on end. It was shocking how exhausting it was to do nothing. I didn't go on runs. I didn't pull watch. I didn't drive. I didn't even eat. I slept and I mourned, that was it. Inside I was screaming at the top of my lungs, but on the outside I was silent. I felt alone even though I wasn't. Beth. Daryl. Merle. Maggie. One of them was always by my side, but they felt a million miles away.

I was still reeling from the events at the hospital, my physical injuries healing much faster than my emotional ones. The revelation of my pregnancy and subsequent loss of the child I didn't know I carried haunted me. I hadn't cried because I was certain if I started I might never stop. I hadn't told anyone what happened because I didn't want to see the look of pity on their face. Hell, I'd hardly said two words since Rick made the decision to put Georgia in our rearview, and I was lucid enough to know that was unhealthy. I just didn't care. I had 530 miles to get my shit together, and at the pace I was progressing I was going to need every single inch.

The cramping Dr. Edwards promised finally eased yesterday, and I was left with only moderate bleeding, a not so subtle reminder of the loss. I felt what could only be characterized as biological loneliness, a unique and particularly awful feeling I had no skills to cope with.

I struggled with my self-imposed isolation, not able to accept comfort from those around me, but miserable in my solitude. My emotions were erratic, raging inside me like a violent thunderstorm while my outward demeanor would best be described as catatonic. I was trapped inside my own head with no way out. The days crawled by agonizingly slow, but the nights were far worse.

At night there was nothing to distract me from the prison I was locked in. I listened to Daryl snore quietly beside me, and hated myself for wondering if losing the baby was for the best. Maybe it was the universes way of telling me I wasn't ready to be a mother. Maybe it was the safest outcome for the group. Maybe it just...was. All the depraved thoughts along with limitless guilt threatened to crush me. I'd suffered some pretty horrific things in my life, but none came close to how traumatized this experience left me.

Daryl saw it, there was no hiding it from him, and that only added to the pain. He saw it every time he looked into my lifeless eyes, urging me to eat, to sleep, to do something other than just exist. I hated myself for putting him through this. The look on his face each morning before he slipped out of the van spoke of a man who felt he was failing to protect his wife. It was no better when he returned at night, remorse he had no right to feel making his shoulders slump in defeat when he found me the same way he left me. I wanted to tell him he hadn't failed me. The miscarriage had simply broken me open, and I didn't know how to put myself back together. I wasn't sure it was even possible.

The van shuttered to a stop, doors subsequently opening, the group's voices barely audible. I sighed, the passage of time was marked by stops to siphon fuel, catch a few hours of sleep, or short runs raiding whatever house or town we happened to stumble across. I didn't know how far we'd traveled, how long it'd been since we left the hospital, but every minute that slowly ticked by felt like an eternity.

"Do you want to stretch your legs?" Beth asked quietly, still coaxing me towards recovery despite my indifference.

The young woman was never far from my side. She sat beside me in the back of the van each day, holding my hand, and talking, sometimes reading, anything to fill the endless silence. She only left at night when the back of the van opened, revealing a hesitant and worried Daryl. She would squeeze my hand gently, promising to be back in the morning, and then slide out.

She was instantly replaced by my husband who laid down facing me, taking my hand and interlacing our fingers. We didn't talk. He tried the first few days, but got so frustrated with noncommittal grunts and halfhearted shrugs he snapped an arrow in half in his frustration. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me.

Beth may be the only one who knew the truth behind my current state, but Daryl wasn't an idiot. He knew there was more to my lethargy than being hit by a car. He feared the worst, and I didn't know if the truth would be better or worse than whatever nightmare he was imagining. Not that it mattered. I was too much of a coward to tell him. I was too selfish to swallow my own grief, and give him something. Anything would be infinitely better than nothing, but the depression I was drowning in made the words stick in my throat every time I tried.

"Yeah," I answered, my voice sounding strange to my ears.

I sat up slowly, my bruised body just as sore as my voice. I scooted out of the van, trying to hide from her just how much it hurt to move. Dr. Edwards explanation of what to expect was a bit lacking. "Intense period" my left tit. Three days ago it felt like my uterus was squeezing my internal organs until they liquefied, and I was amazed I hadn't died from blood loss.

"There's a creek just off that way." Beth pointed into the woods. "Want to get cleaned up?"

"I got it," I told her, feeling guilty she was shouldered my burden. "Go find Maggie. I'll be alright."

She didn't look convinced, and I couldn't blame her. The odds were pretty good I wouldn't make it to the creek. I hadn't gone further than 10 feet from the van in days. The odds I'd fall down and lie there for the rest of my life were pretty good. Despite that I plastered a fake smile on my face, even going so far as to nudge her in the general direction of her sister because this wasn't fair to her.

"I don't mind going with you," she tried, biting her lip.

"I'm fine. Go." When she didn't immediately race off to enjoy her time away from me I went for the kill shot. "When's the last time you saw Nugget?"

Her eyes lit up. "If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

I wasn't, not even close, but she needed this. I could survive a few minutes without a safety net. She handed me a pack, giving me a quick hug, and then she was gone. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, telling myself I could do this. I tried to ignore my erratic heartbeat, holding my head high and walking around the van. Rick, Abraham and Glenn had their backs to me, huddled around the map discussing route options, and gossiping like teenage girls.

"She's barely eating," Glenn said, worry palpable in his voice.

Abraham put a gigantic hand on his humongous hip. "What do ya expect? She got laid out by a station wagon. I'll be the first to admit she's got balls the size of boulders, but that would fuck anybody up."

I stopped a few feet back, leaning against the van. I didn't know if I should be offended or flattered by the "balls the size of boulders" comment. Coming from Ariel it felt like a compliment.

"That's not it," Glenn countered, "She's not talking. Not even to Daryl or Merle. She's slept for practically five days."

Five days?! Holy mother of shit! I knew I'd been in a funk, but five-freaking-days? No wonder everyone was concerned.

"We have to give her time," Rick insisted.

"She can have as much time as she needs so long as we don't have walkers up our fourth point of contact."

"Abraham." Rick's voice held a hint of warning that made the giant red-head scoff.

"Don't gimme that. You know I'm right," he huffed, "That woman makes The Winter Soldier look like a straight up pussy. We don't stand a cold chance in hell without her."

Rick gave him a sidelong glance, face impassive. The only sign the description bothered him the slight tick in his jaw.

"She'll be fine."

"She's going to go to the creek." All three men turned at the same time, varying degrees of shock and concern on their faces. "Just thought I'd let someone know, but feel free to keep talking about me."

Glenn's mouth opened and closed a few times, trying and failing to explain away their conversation. Ariel merely raised a single, red eyebrow, studying me like he was trying to ascertain my combat readiness. Rick didn't look surprised in the least at my unexpected appearance. He put a hand on my shoulder, steering me away from the others. Only once we were far enough away did he scan me from head to toe, playing the roll of group leader and dad. I made an effort to stand up tall even though it hurt like a son of a bitch. He sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"You good?"

Those two words held so much meaning. He was asking 600 different questions with one simple phrase.

I gave him a slight smirk. "Gotta be."

Lie. I wasn't good, not physically and certainly not emotionally, but with every roll of the wheels we got closer to wherever the fuck we were going. Eventually the world wouldn't care if I was ready or not. I'd have to be or I'd die.

"Daryl and Merle went hunting but we could probably find them..."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just going to the creek." He didn't look convinced. "I've got balls the size of boulders remember? I'll be fine."

"Yeah, sorry about that." He had the good manners to look slightly embarrassed. "Listen Alex, I..."

"I'll be back in a few," I interrupted, saving us both from a conversation we didn't want to have. I loved Rick, I really did, but I'd rather pet a walker than touch this subject matter with a 10-foot pole. "It's just over there?"

I pointed into the woods and he nodded, running a nervous hand through his disheveled, curly hair. I walked away without another word, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring a hole into my back. I knew he was worried. I also knew he was trying to balance that worry with the knowledge they group may need my "badass ninja skills" in the near future, and I wouldn't be ready. That was a lot of worry to pile on one man's shoulders. I wanted to lighten his load, if only a little, but I didn't know how. Mentally I was a mess, physically it hurt to blink, and my "badass ninja skills" were on an unsolicited vacay with no return date listed.

Thankfully the creek was as close as Beth promised, and thank god because by the time I got there I was huffing and puffing like a hippopotamus with emphysema. I may have lounged in the back of the van for a few days too many. Once my vision cleared and my legs didn't feel like a baby giraffe walking for the first time I stripped down to my bra and boy shorts, wadding to the middle of the creek despite the frigid temperatures. I held my breath, submerging my head under the water for a moment before resurfacing. Gingerly I lathered up, careful of the colorful bruises cascading down my body. I even washed my hair with Maggie's sun-ripened raspberry shampoo and conditioner.

Once I was clean I traded my filthy, blood soaked, torn clothes for a less disgusting ensemble, and made a mental note to find some new clothes. I smiled when I found a clean tank top shoved in the bottom of the pack with the phrase "Does running out of wine count as cardio" printed on the front. I swear Beth was aiming for sainthood. I sat down against a tree to brush my hair, enjoying the peace of the woods. I heard a twig snap and tensed, my hand sliding to a knife at my waist, ears straining. I heard leaves crunching followed by another branch breaking and relaxed.

"Hey Carol."

She appeared from behind a tree, smiling down at me. "How did you know it was me?"

"You make more noise than a hyper cow in a metal barn."

She frowned, sitting next to me. "Huh?"

"Wait, I think there's a mule in the barn, not a cow."

"You mean a restless mule in a tin barn?" she corrected.

"That's the one," I agreed and then scowled. "How did you know that?"

I'd been trying for almost a year and a half and still couldn't string two words together in redneck.

"I grew up in the south," she answered with a shrug.

"It's redneck not southern," I mumbled under my breath, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She gently nudged my shoulders and I looked at her expectantly. She sighed dramatically, taking the hair brush and making a circular motion with it. Guess it was "Alex gets an updo" time. I obliged because I didn't have the strength to fight with Carol over something as petty as my hairdo.

She painstakingly parted my hair on the right side before gather a two-inch portion of hair at my forehead, and carefully sectioning it into three equal strands. She hummed softly as she wove my hair back-and-forth, french braiding my hair. The humming combined with the pulling and tugging on my skull was hypnotic and oddly soothing.

"It gets easier."

Her voice was so soft I almost didn't hear her, but it was the understated emotion in her tone that made a tingle race down my spine. Did she know? If so, how? A million other questions shot through my brain so fast I felt dizzy. My throat was so dry I licked my lips, opening and closing my mouth a few times, trying to work up the nerve to speak. She said nothing else, patiently braiding my hair like I wasn't having an existential crisis right in front of her.

"How did you know?" I finally asked, deciding the to start with the easiest question.

She wrapped a hair tie around the end of my hair at the base of my neck, smoothing down the long strands she left loose. She gently angled my head in the opposite direction so she could start another braid. Wow, two braids, fancy.

"It's fairly obvious." It was? "Especially for someone who's been through it." I sucked in a breath, trying to turn, but she shushed me, tilting my head away so she could continue to braid. "It was a long time ago. Ed and I had only been married a few months when I got pregnant. I lost the baby before I ever worked up the nerve to tell him. In the end it was probably for the best. We weren't ready and later on we had Sophia so..."

"I'm sorry."

Sorry for the baby she lost. Sorry for the daughter she lost.

"Me too." She squeezed my shoulder briefly, and I covered my hand with hers. "Did Daryl know?"

"No," I choked out, "I didn't even know. Jesus, how fucked up is that? How can you be pregnant and not even know? I always knew I'd be a shitty mother, but that's ridiculous even for me. The crazy part is we used protection every time. How in the hell did I even get pregnant?"

Once I started talking about it I found it hard to stop. Days of repressed emotions and thoughts burst open like a damn. I hated myself for mistaking all the times I threw up after the prison for my lingering illness. Like most women I'd stopped tracking my periods because it was impractical. Between stress, malnutrition, and weight loss they were sporadic at best. In my heart I knew all those things made identifying a pregnancy, especially one so new, difficult, but it was little consolation in my pit of self-loathing.

"Condoms are only 98% effective."

"Wh...what?" That couldn't be right. "So what, 2% of the time they don't do shit?" She shrugged, slightly amused at my ignorance. "Well...fuck...that sucks. They should put something that important on the box."

"They do."

My mouth fell open. They did? I'd never seen it, but then again if you were perusing the condom box during sexy time someone wasn't doing something right. She secured the second braid, gathering up the loose strands and twisting them into a bun.

"Are you going to tell him?"

Yes.

No.

Maybe.

"I don't know how," I confessed, hanging my head. She sat beside me, reaching over and taking my hand in hers.

"You have to tell him Alex. He can't take not knowing...watching you suffer and having no idea why. It's literally tearing him apart."

"I want to. I just..."

What if he hates me? What if he blames me? What if he's relieved? What if he doesn't want children?

"Breathe," she instructed, squeezing my hand as I lost what little was left of my shit. I took a deep inhale, holding it for a second before releasing it then repeating the process. "He won't hate you or blame you. You're being too hard on yourself."

I turned to look at her, shocked. "How did you...?"

"Like I said, I've been there."

"Right."

We sat in silence, both deep in thought. I tried to imagine telling Daryl, and felt my heart start racing. I couldn't get past the part where I asked if I we could talk. It was progress, of a sort, considering the only exchanges we'd had in five days consisted of grunts.

"Do you want children?" she asked.

Before the hospital that question would have thrown me for a loop, and resulted in an knee-jerk reaction of an answer. I'd asked myself the same thing countless times since we left the hospital, since everything changed.

"Before this...I would have said no, not in a million years. I mean, look at us." I raised my hand, gesturing to the world in general. "Do you remember how hard it was on Lori, and the group, when she was pregnant? She used to tell me she felt like a burden and I always denied it, but the truth was..."

Even now I couldn't bring myself to admit the truth, that her pregnancy was an incredible burden. I wouldn't give up Nugget for anything, but it was an added obstacle we almost didn't overcome. And in the end, after all her suffering and struggles, she died before she was able to hold her little girl.

"It won't always be like this." I rolled my eyes. She didn't know that. "You didn't answer the question."

"I don't...I don't know. Maybe...someday."

"I get it," she said, coming to my rescue.

"Oh thank god." She put her arm around me, pulling me closer. I sniffled, resting my head on her shoulder, taking comfort in her presence.

"You have to let it hurt Alex. Let yourself cry. Let yourself heal." I held my breath as I listened, soaking in her advice. "And when you've done that you have to let it go."

I exhaled harshly, squeezing my eyes closed. That was much easier said than done, but she knew that. She gave my hand one last squeeze before standing up and walking away. I lingered by the creek long enough to get my chaotic feelings somewhat under control. My stomach was churning the entire walk back to the road, an ominous feeling building with every step. I couldn't remember a time when I was nervous to talk to Daryl. Angry, amused, or mildly homicidal, sure, but nervous, never.

It was late in the day when I finally got to the cars, depositing my pack in the back of the van. Beth gave me an approving smile when she saw I was clean and sporting Prom hair.

"We're staying here for the night," she informed me. "Everyone's really worn out after so many day of traveling."

I hummed in agreement, biting my lip as I surveyed the group. "Have you seen..."

"He's over there with Merle skinning squirrels."

I nodded, taking two steps in the direction she pointed before stopping. I pivoted on my heel, throwing my arms around her, and pulling her in for a hug. She was so shocked it took her a moment to respond. A joyous giggle erupted from her making her body shake, and she wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me tight.

"I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done," I admitted. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming for me."

I released her, holding her at arm's length. "It's what we do."

"It sure is."

I offered her a wink before leaving. The walk across camp was uncomfortable, but I kept my head high and eyes trained ahead of me. I ignored the shocked expressions and hushed whispers. If I stopped I was likely to flee back to the safety of the van where I could continue to pretend the last five days never happened. While that idea held infinitely more appeal than facing what was to come I knew I couldn't. I missed Daryl. I needed him, and he deserved better than what I'd given him. That was ending, now.

As promised the Dixon brothers were sitting on a log 30 feet away from camp skinning a sizeable pile of squirrels. My stomach rumbled painfully when I saw the dead animals, and I knew my hunger strike was officially over. If I found raw squirrel carcasses appealing I needed to eat and soon. If I waited much longer I was likely to find innards appetizing or worse possums, and that simply wouldn't do. I was all for being a Dixon, but there were some lines I wasn't crossing.

Merle noticed me first, his knife stub faltering in his surprise, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. His knife slipped, and instead of gently separating the fur from the body he decapitated the poor animal.

"What the fuck man?" Daryl barked, taking in the carnage. He followed his brother's line of sight, his shock at seeing me standing there only slightly more graceful than his brothers. He dropped the squirrel in his hand, and shot to his feet. "Red."

"Hey guys." I wanted to slap myself. So incredibly lame. "Can we talk?"

Daryl nodded, swallowing hard and wiping his dirty hands on his equally dirty jeans.

"Sure, leave 'ol Merle to do the dirty work. I see how it is."

For the first time in days I actually smiled. "I missed you too Captain Hook."

"Yeah, whatever," he grumbled, his own smile barely visible through his fake annoyance.

I waited while Daryl collected his crossbow, hands shaking slightly. I realized I wasn't the only one who was nervous. I reached out, slipping my hand into his to steady his nerves and mine. His breathing shuttered when I interlaced our fingers, but but he looked more comfortable and he didn't pull away. I led us away from camp, deep into the forest, not wanting to risk being interrupted by people or walkers. This would be hard enough with just the two of us. I didn't need an audience witnessing what might be our most painful conversation.

We walked for five minutes before I stopped abruptly. I let go of his hand, drawing a knife and nodding at him as we broke apart to clear the immediate area. I circled the small clearing, finding nothing, and holstering my weapon. Daryl continued to circle the small area, eyes alert, body tense. I didn't know if he was being extra careful or simply trying to put off the inevitable.

After his third sweep he finally relented, turning to face me. He looked tired, dark circles and bloodshot eyes a testament to his lack of sleep. His hair was greasy and matted against his forehead in a combination of sweat and dirt. His clothes, while never particularly clean, looked downright foul. But none of that hit me with the force of a wrecking ball. It was the look of absolute torment on his face that made me sick. I'd done this to him, and I hated myself for it.

"I'm sorry," I admitted, hands shaking so bad I curled them into fists at my side to conceal it. He narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer.

"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for."

"I do." When he opened his mouth to argue I put my hand up, silencing him. "I told you once that I could handle anything but silence and you've given me that. You've stood by me, day in and day out, while I gave you...nothing. You've given me your best, and we both know I can't say that. Not these last few days."

I was a hypocrite. He deserved better. I wanted to give it to him so badly, but I was weak and afraid. His finger slipped under my chin, tilting my head up. I still saw the torment in his beautiful, blue eyes, but I also saw love, so much love.

"I told ya once I ain't never gonna leave ya," he declared. "And I ain't. Yur my wife. I love ya Red. Don't matter what happens. We're in this together. Till the end."

I knew that. Over the past five days while I lay in the back of a van struggling through the pain of my body expelling the last remnants of our child he was there. He held me. He ran his fingers through my filthy hair. He kissed my blood stained forehead, and promised everything would be alright. He only left when absolutely necessary, entrusting my care to the Greene sisters or his brother. He had no idea what was happening to me, but he was there all the same.

I stepped into his personal space, and his arms instantly encircled me. I buried my face in his chest, savoring the feeling of being held by him. I knew Carol was right. I had to tell him, even if the truth would hurt him. We had to feel the hurt so we could let it go. It was the only way.

"I have to tell you something."

My voice was slightly muffled, but he heard me, pulling back so he could look at me. He was incredibly anxious as he awaited my declaration. I could only imagine what kind of terrible scenarios had played out in his head over the past few days.

"I...I..."

He cradled my face in his large hands. "It's just me Red. Ya can tell me anythin'. It ain't gonna change nothin'."

I hoped that was true.

"Let it hurt." Carol's words echoed in my mind, a truth I needed to hear to take the next step. I took a deep breath, our eyes locked on each other, and I finally told him.

"I was pregnant."

He didn't move, didn't break eye contact, didn't blink. It didn't even look like he was breathing. I felt myself start to shake, fearing I'd made a horrible mistake telling him. There was no good that could come from revealing this. I was unloading a burden on him simply to lighten my own load. My heart pounded in my chest, anxiety pumping through my veins the longer we stood there in tense silence.

I felt the urge to run, to get as far away as fast as possible. Where I could go I had no idea. There was nowhere to run where the pain wouldn't follow me, but the stricken look on my husband's face hurt so much it was difficult to stomach. I took a half step back, and he let me, still held immobile by shock. My body hummed with tension as I struggled with indecision. My instincts told me to run, but my heart begged me to stay. I couldn't hurt him more by running from him now, but the longer he stood there and did...nothing the more I felt myself panic.

I stepped on a twig and the noise snapped him out of his trance, his eyes refocusing instantly. For a moment he looked slightly confused, like he wasn't sure where he was or how he got there, but when he noticed my expression, realized my intentions, his entire demeanor changed. His enormous hands wrapped around my upper arms and he hauled me against his massive chest with such force I stumbled. He held me tight, squeezing me to the point of pain.

"Are ya a'right?" he asked. His arms were solid around me, his hand rubbing up-and-down my back.

That did it. Those three little words unleashed a current of emotion I'd beaten back since I woke up in the hospital to the news I'd lost my child. A strangled cry slipped from my lips, my knees buckling. Daryl's grip on me tightened as I curled my fingers into the back of his shirt, shrill sounds of agony coming from me. He lowered us to the ground slowly while I sobbed. He gathered me in his arms, leaning against a tree and holding me while I fell apart. It wasn't so different than the time we spent in the back of the van. He held me. He rubbed my back. He whispered that everything would be alright. He told me he loved me, and he always would. The only difference now was I cried. I let it hurt.

"I gotcha Red."

"I didn't know. I swear. If I'd known..."

I'd what, not have gone after Beth, not been hit by a car? Neither was true, and I wasn't sure if that made me a monster.

"Shh," he cooed.

It took another five minutes for me to calm down enough to sit up, wiping away tears.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to I was just..." I was selfish, afraid, and hurting.

"I get it. Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for." I disagreed, but stayed quiet on the subject. I knew he had questions. "When ya got hit..." His face turned lethal in an instant. "Is that why ya lost the baby?"

"Yes," I nodded, unable to hold his penetrating gaze. What could only be described as a growl erupted from him, his entire body stiff with barely contained rage. "Daryl."

"If I hadn't let ya come..." He trailed off, eyes unfocused and distant.

Let me come? That was hilarious. I didn't listen to anyone, my husband included.

"Listen to me, there was nothing you could do." His sharp, blue eyes snapped to my face, and I fought the urge to look away. "There's no way you could know what would happen, and there is absolutely no way to keep me safe all the time. The world doesn't work like that anymore. We protected Lori for eight months and when the time came we still couldn't save her."

He shuttered at the memory, and I trailed a hand down his face in sympathy. It was difficult to say, even harder to listen to, but it was the truth. Even if we'd known I was pregnant and I sat on the bench until the baby was born there was still no guarantee I'd lived to see my child. Child birth was a risk far greater than walkers now.

"Does it...are ya...I mean, will ya be OK?"

I smiled sadly, "The pain is manageable now, and it's less and less every day. The doctor at the hospital said to watch for signs of infection, but I think we're outside that window now. There shouldn't be any...lasting effects."

He nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly. "How'd ya get pregnant?"

I smirked, "Well, you see, when a man puts his..."

"Stop." I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. It felt good to joke with him. "I mean, we were...careful."

I sank into him, and he hugged me closer. "I said the same thing. Apparently condoms are only 98% effective. Best I can figure is between the falsely advertised equipment and your super sperm we never stood a chance."

"They should put that on the box," he mused and I looked up at him through my lashes.

"Thank you."

Carol said it was on the box. It was probably at the very bottom in such small print you'd need a magnifying glass to read it. Typical. I could read the gluten free labels on cereal boxes from across the street, but on something as important as contraceptives it was in microscopic hieroglyphics.

We sat quietly for a few minutes, both absorbing our new reality. I felt a little lighter. It still hurt, it probably always would, but it was less suffocating now. I could think about it and not want to fall on the ground and never get up.

"Can ya...still have kids?" He was clearly uncomfortable asking the question, and my heart thudded in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry.

"Is that...do you want that? Children I mean?"

Most people had conversations like this before they got married, but no one had ever accused Daryl and me of being conventional. I had no idea why I was so nervous. Until Daryl I'd never considered having a family, didn't think it was in the cards given my lifestyle. I still didn't know if it was the smartest move considering the world we lived it, but when I imagined our future I couldn't deny I saw children. It may only be a dream, something neither of us lived to see fulfilled, but I wanted to believe it was possible. I wanted to hope.

"I want everythin' with ya," he admitted, resting his chin on top of my head.

My heart pulsed with love for him. I wasn't naïve enough to believe one child could replace another. We would always carry the pain of this loss, and wonder what could have been. We would never forget, but we would move forward.

"We should get back," he said and I nodded, getting to my feet. He picked up his crossbow slinging it on his shoulder and confidently guiding us back to camp.

"I'm sorry," I said and he stopped, turning to face me. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect our child."

In three steps he was in my face, eyes blazing. "Stop." I didn't flinch at his tone, standing tall. I needed to get this out. "It ain't yur fault."

"It feels like it," I admitted.

"It ain't."

That wasn't the only issue. Back at the hospital I'd surrendered to a part of myself that was dangerous. It was out now, lingering in the shadows, and I wasn't sure if I could control it. What's worse, I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"I wanted to kill her." He knew who I was talking about. Dawn. "I wanted to kill them all."

His face softened, "Ya didn't."

"I'm pretty sure Dawn's brain matter all over the wall says different."

He scoffed, "She was gonna kill Beth. Ya did what ya had to."

Had I? The details were fuzzy. Had I reached for my gun before or after Beth made a move? I couldn't remember, not for sure, but I knew in my heart I was going to kill her no matter what. Beth trying to stab her simply gave me plausible deniability. Daryl was wrong. I didn't do it to save Beth. I did it because she killed my child. I was exactly what we feared most in this world, and that terrified me.

"I would have killed her regardless."

My statement should have made shame swim in my gut, but it didn't, and somehow that was a million times worse.

"I don't believe that." He'd always believed in me more than I believed in myself. "Ya ain't a monster so just stop with the fuckin' pity party. Ya did what ya had to, and I ain't gonna let ya feel sorry for killin' that bitch."

"Did you just say pity party?"

"Shut up." The corner of my mouth tipped up in a barely there smile. "I don't care what ya say Red. I was there. Ya killed that woman to save Beth. Yeah, ya damn near smoked the others, and I ain't gonna lie and say a part of me didn't want ya to, but ya didn't."

"I would have," I admitted. "If you hadn't been there. I would have killed them all."

"Nah, ya wouldn't." His faith in me was sweet. It was also absolute bullshit. "It ain't bullshit neither."

I reeled back, the Vulcan mind meld throwing me for a loop after being silent for so long. "Even after all this time that's just...freaky," I mumbled more to myself than him. "I wish I had half as much faith in myself as you have in me."

He leaned down, brushing a quick kiss across my lips. It was an odd feeling, someone believing the best when you, yourself, believed the worst.

"Just returnin' the favor." He pulled back, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. "Come on."

He took my hand, leading us back to the group. My heart was lighter now, and I knew, in time, I would be alright. We would be alright. Grief never really ends. I knew that, but I also knew that it did change. It was a place you visited, not a place you lived. I knew now it wasn't a place I could avoid, much as I might like to, not without giving up those I loved. That was the cost of grief, and it was a price I was unwilling to pay.

I'd suffered loss countless times in my life, but until this point had never experienced a loss that changed me on a fundamental level. I think it was the lack of understanding, the unfairness of it all, that made the loss so visceral. If it wasn't for the man in front of me I wasn't sure I would've ever found my way back from the darkness. Sometimes looking on the bright side was simply impossible. Sometimes you needed someone to sit with you in the dark until you found the strength to face the light.

~ ~ ~

This chapter was personal for me. I experienced this loss with my first pregnancy so the feelings and issues you see Alex dealing with were my own. I'm one of the lucky one's, I now have 4 healthy, amazing children. However, the pain of that loss never really goes away. For those of you out there who have experienced this, for those of you that will in the future, know you are not alone.

Despite the heavy subject matter I sincerely hope this chapter resonated with each of you, and did the loss Alex is suffering justice. We will see Daryl and some of the others deal with this revelation in upcoming chapters.

Thank you all for your support and dedication to this story. It keeps me writing!