We stay busy. Beth, Carl, Hershel, and I stay near the cell block with the baby, keeping her entertained and well fed while preparing food for ourselves. Lori and Carol used to do a lot of the cooking but now...everyone's going to have to be happy with whatever I can offer them.

The others head down to the generator room to clear it out and, when they return, Glenn and Maggie have a phone book. They read over it, circling places nearby where we could look for supplies.

We're eating a lunch of oatmeal and water when a voice comes from the entrance to the tombs.

"Everybody okay?"

Rick stands behind the bars. He's changed his shirt, cleaned himself up a bit, and he slowly pushes the door open.

"Yeah, we are," Carl says.

"What about you?" Hershel asks as he comes closer, his steps slow, like he's still dazed.

"I cleared out the boiler block," Rick says. I gulp down my mouthful of oatmeal, wincing a little. I allow myself to wonder if he saw the walker down there. For his sake, I hope he didn't.

"How many were there?" Daryl asks.

"I don't know. A dozen, two dozen," Rick says. "I have to get back. Just wanted to check on Carl." He pats his son's shoulder.

"Rick, we can handle taking out the bodies," Glenn says as he gets to his feet. "You don't have to."

"No, I do," he retorts. He walks past the table to where Daryl and I sit on the concrete steps. "Everyone have a gun and a knife?"

Daryl's eyes dart to me, but he nods. "Yeah. We're running low on ammo, though."

"Maggie and me were planning on making a run this afternoon," Glenn adds. "Found a phone book with some places we can hit, look for bullets and formula."

"We cleared out the generator room," Daryl continues. "Axel's there trying to fix it in case of emergency. We're gonna sweep the lower levels as well."

"Good," Rick says, nodding as he starts back towards the exit. "Good."

"Rick!" Hershel calls, but he slams the cell door behind him and he's gone again.

----------

Glenn and Maggie go out for their run, Oscar, Daryl, and Carl head off into the tunnels to do their sweep, and I'm left with Beth on baby duty while Hershel goes off in search of Rick.

Maybe on another day I'd go with the tunnel group, but it still feels like there's this weight holding me down. I'm just...exhausted, and maybe wandering around playing homemaker for a few hours could be good for me.

Besides, little baby Grimes is adorable to the point of tears, and I like holding her. I like singing to her, feeding her—I even like burping her and dealing with spit-up. I used to worry that, if I became a mom one day, I'd be horrible at it because of my weak stomach. I was the kind of person that dry-heaved trying to pick up after a dog.

I still don't do great, but the apocalypse has toughened my stomach, and now a bit of baby puke feels like nothing.

When Hershel returns, Beth takes a turn with the baby and I sit with him as he reads over his Bible.

"Hershel, could..." He looks up at me and I flush a little. "Could you read out loud?"

He smiles, glancing down at the pages again. "Any requests?"

"Genesis. Chapter 37," I say, folding my arms on the table and propping my head on them. Again, I find myself under his questioning stare. "I like the stories, but Joseph's is my favourite. Even when life was hard, and kept getting harder, he never lost faith and trusted that God would bring him through the hard times. I'd like to think I could be like him."

"Well, I'd be happy to read it," Hershel says.

As he flips to the correct page and starts reading, Beth comes over with the baby and settles at my side. Hershel's voice is gentle and slow, the words washing over me. My grandpa used to read Bible stories to me when he and my grandma babysat me. My grandpa was an expressive man, always making different voices for characters, acting out parts of the story, waving his hands around.

Nostalgia chokes me up all over again.

"There was a movie about Joseph," Beth says, smiling a little. "Daddy, you remember? Momma brought it home from the store, wanted to give it a try. I loved it."

Hershel laughs softly to himself. "You sang those songs for weeks, Bethy. Think Maggie and Shawn were about ready to destroy the disc if it meant not having to hear them again."

"To be fair, it was a good movie," I say.

They both nod, and Beth glances down at the baby in her arms for a second as she purses her lips. "I miss movies," she admits, more to herself than either of us.

I agree anyway. "Me too."

----------

Carl returns from the tunnels alone. He's quick to tell us that Oscar's gone to check on Axel and Daryl wanted to keep scouting around. I wonder if he's still searching for Carol's body and the thought sobers me.

Hershel takes a turn with the baby while Beth and I start making supper. We have a basic propane camp stove and not a whole lot of variety to work with, but we do our best.

Footsteps approach from the tombs and we look up as Rick appears. He pushes the door open and, not sparing us a glance, makes a steady beeline for Hershel and the baby in his arms. Carl, Beth, and I watch from afar as Rick finally meets his daughter, taking her from Hershel gently. She fusses, kicking a little, cooing, and he gazes at her.

"Hey..." he breathes. "Hey."

He smiles a bit as he looks at her, eyes dewy with emotion, and he tucks her close to him as he takes a long, deep breath. The baby settles in his arms quickly, tiny fists tucking up by her face, and he tilts his head down to lightly brush his lips against her head.

"I'm..." He looks at the rest of us, then the exit. "Think I need some air."

He moves to the exit. Carl and Hershel are quick to follow and Beth hesitates before looking at me and our half-made dinner.

"Go ahead," I urge. "I've got it."

She smiles and hurries off after them. I keep stirring the mush of ingredients we've created, praying it'll be at least good enough to choke down, when I hear more footsteps and heavy breathing.

"Hope!" Daryl calls. "HOPE!"

I look up from my work just as Daryl rushes in, holding Carol's body in his arms. Only thing is, she isn't a corpse. Her chest rises and falls. There's colour in her cheeks.

My stirring spoon clatters against the pot. "Holy shit."

"Can you check her? Make sure she's—"

"Yeah, get her inside. I'll grab my kit."

Our words are quick, succinct, and I race off to my cell with Daryl behind me. I return to find he's laid her down in Hershel's "recovery cell" and he steps back when I arrive. I push a cloth into his hands.

"Get this wet," I say.

He nods and heads off. I kneel next to Carol, lifting her shirt, checking her for bites, but she's just dirty and very, very dehydrated. I don't have anything to put in an I.V. bag, but if I can get her to wake up, I can coax her to drink something.

Daryl returns with the cloth and a bottle of water. Bless him. "She okay?"

"No bites," I report, taking the cloth from him. "No scratches either." I start to dab at her face, wiping the grime and blood off. "How did you find her?"

"Lower levels. Must've gotten lost, fought her way through until she couldn't anymore," he says. "Found her in a cell."

"Unbelievable," I murmur. "It's...it's a miracle, honestly."

"Guess so."

I'm cleaning her forehead, where there's a decent-sized cut, when her crystal blue eyes flutter open and I freeze as they lock on me. We stare at each other for a second before her lip lifts in a slow, tired smile. I let out a half-laugh and lean down to give her a hug.

"We thought you were dead," I admit as her arms surround me. "God, we...made you a grave! Carol—"

"Can't get rid of me that easy," she says, voice slightly raspy.

I laugh and pull away from her, wiping off the happy tears caught on my lashes. Daryl hands me the water bottle, nudging my arm with it. I help Carol sit up and offer her the bottle, which she guzzles down half of immediately. I rub her back and she looks between the two of us again, still smiling.

"I'm so glad you two are okay," she says.

"Just glad you're alive," Daryl replies, making me nod eagerly in agreement.

God, seeing her again is surreal. Part of me wants to pinch myself, or pinch her to make sure she's not a ghost and I'm not going crazy. Thank God.

A few gunshots go off outside and I jump. Carol nearly drops her bottle and Daryl looks out into the block, frowning.

"Should I be worried?" she asks.

"Don't know," Daryl says. "It's been quiet..." There aren't any more shots from outside. He looks back at us. "Walkers, maybe."

I turn back to Carol. "Rest," I urge, taking the bottle from her and setting it on the stool near the bed. "Just...take it easy."

She nods, thanking me as she lays back down. I step out of the cell, right to Daryl's side, and his hand falls to the small of my back as we move away from the door.

"So she's really fine?" he asks me, keeping his voice low.

"Just tired, hungry, and thirsty. We'll give her a little extra supper tonight, whatever we can spare," I say, starting to smile. I wrap my arms around him, exhaling another half-laugh. "God, Daryl, you're like her guardian angel or something. You're amazing."

"Pssh," he mutters, returning the hug. "Was about two seconds away from stabbing her. Thought she was a walker."

"Even angels make mistakes?"

He just scoffs again.

We separate from each other as the front door clangs open and I hear frantic voices: Rick shouting orders, mostly, then it quiets again.

Daryl and I head for the cell block doors, emerging to find Rick kneeling over a complete stranger—a black woman with long dreads and a colourful headband. Rick has her pinned and, despite it, her dark eyes dart around, taking in everyone, muscles tensed like a rabbit preparing to run or a tiger ready to pounce. I wonder which one she is.

"We're not gonna hurt you unless you try something stupid first, alright?" Rick utters, stern and firm.

"Rick," Daryl says, making him look up. "Who the hell is this?"

The woman sits up slowly as Rick shifts himself into a more comfortable squatting position. Now, she only looks at him.

"You wanna tell us your name?" Rick asks. When she doesn't answer, he repeats it, whispering, "You wanna tell us your name?"

"Y'all, come on in here," Daryl says when the woman still doesn't reply.

"Everything alright?" Rick asks, standing up again.

"You're gonna wanna see this."

Rick looks back at the others. "Go ahead," he says. "Carl, get the bag."

Hershel and Beth move past us into the cell block, but Daryl stays rooted in place, waiting for Rick. I wait for Daryl. Carl carries a red basket full of baby formula and other supplies into the cell block.

Rick picks up a white-handled katana laying on the ground and the woman's jaw clenches when he does it. "We'll keep this safe and sound," he says, giving the sword a shake. "The doors are all locked. You'll be safe here." He motions to her leg. "And we can treat that."

I try to look past him to see what he's talking about, but I can't see a wound.

The woman looks around again, gripping the chain link beside her. "I didn't ask for your help," she says, finally, her voice husky and rich.

"Doesn't matter," Rick says, turning around and coming back to the cell block. "Can't let you leave."

Daryl and I follow him in and Daryl locks the door behind us. I look back at the woman, still staring, before following Daryl. We lead Rick and the others to Carol's cell.

Carol sits up when Rick appears, smiling, and his expression is close to what I imagine mine looked like when Daryl brought her back—shocked but, above all, relieved. He exhales as Carol shifts to the edge of the bed and tries to stand up, a weak laugh leaving her.

Rick hauls her into his arms. "Thank God," he says. "Thank God."

She cries happy tears as he keeps repeating it, pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead, burying his face in her shoulder. She smiles at everyone over his shoulder and Hershel hobbles forward.

"How?" he asks as Rick releases her, only for her to hug him too.

"Solitary," Carol replies.

"Poor thing fought her way into a cell," Daryl explains. "Must have passed out. Dehydrated."

Carol's expression floods with love and warmth as Beth comes to greet her, the baby in her arms. She smiles, looking back at Rick as she wipes away a tear, but her smile falls when he doesn't share her joy.

She rests her hand on his chest, searching his face, and all he does is nod. Her lip trembles and she covers her mouth, tears returning for an altogether different reason, and Rick shares her sorrow as he hunches forward. She cups his face in her hands as a few tears leave him.

"I'm sorry," she breathes. He breathes deep, nodding again, and she looks back at the baby, then him. "Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

Carl bows his head, pursing his lips against his own emotions, and I rest my hand on his shoulder. He scoots closer to me so I can put my arm around him, rubbing his shoulder as he sniffles.

Carol turns to look at the baby again, more tears rolling down her face. We stand together in our joy, in our grief, and I spare a glance back at the cell door. The mysterious woman watches us with a strange look on her face, lips pursed. I don't see malice in her eyes.