SIX MONTHS LATER

I think I'm starting to get the hang of this apocalypse thing. We all are.

The prison is thriving although it was tough at first. After taking in the stranded people of Woodbury, we had to make a lot of changes—how we ran things, how decisions were made, and how the prison was set up. We needed to make it into a real community, a long-term home for us all. We also made plans for what to do if the Governor ever returned or if we had to evacuate for any other reason.

Rick stepped back from being leader. He said he needed to reevaluate, refocus, and give more time to Carl and Judith. I like to think that this came about after Carl's run-in with the boy from Woodbury, paired with some gentle advice from Hershel.

In Rick's place, a council was elected, and we all took on new roles. Daryl, Carol, Hershel, and Glenn took on the role of sharing leadership alongside Sasha, whom Woodbury elected as their representative. As they put it, Sasha is loyal, practical, and compassionate, and she's shown that over and over again. And so, slowly but surely, we found a way to make things work.

Daryl spearheads recruitment, bringing back survivors once they answer a few of our questions—one: how many walkers have you killed? Two: how many people have you killed? Three: why? Simple questions in theory, but we found they're a good way to get a glimpse of someone's character before bringing them home.

So, Daryl recruits, and when he brings them back, that's where I come in. I try to be the second person the newcomer meets, a friendly face after experiencing Daryl's resting gruffness.

"This is my wife, Hope. She'll take care of you," he usually says, or something along those lines.

I welcome them. I bring them back to my "office," which is really just the cell next to mine and Daryl's sleeping cell, and I sit them down to explain a few things and ask more questions. I ask them for their blood type (if they know it), their birthday, and ask about any conditions or existing problems that we should know for medical reasons. I record all this in one of my notebooks.

They often ask why I need to know their birthday, since keeping track of the days is nearly impossible. We don't know the exact day, but we've started a tradition that, when a new season begins, we celebrate anyone born around that time. It's another way to bring some light to the new way of the world.

After that, I ask if they need anything to help get them comfortable, and I show them around. We've upgraded the prison substantially, gaining access to the library as well as upgrading the showers and bathrooms to a workable standard. By the time I've given them a tour, someone usually has a cell ready for them, set up with any extra supplies they need.

This way, no matter what, they have one familiar face in the crowd, someone they can approach if they need anything. I've aspired to be a jack of all trades, someone who can help out wherever needed, but others have dubbed my role "the HR rep." You know how you'll keep a small dog around and their job is to go and get the big dog when danger comes? That's me.

Newcomers know me, and I try to know everyone, so I can almost always find a way to help someone find the someone they need to fix their problems. The small dog running off to find the big dog. Easy peasy.

Other than helping integrate, I'm the de-facto nurse. We have Hershel, of course, but we also brought in a doctor named Caleb Subramanian. Most call him Dr. S. On top of those two, we got a new guy about a week ago, Bob Stookey, who was a combat medic. So we have a vet, a doctor, and someone who knows trauma medicine. I'm definitely no one's first choice.

Still, I make myself available, especially to women or anyone who would feel safer talking to a woman about any issues. I've become the holder of birth control methods and menstrual products—anything we pick up from runs goes to me, and I ration them out to people as they need them. The former is a lot harder to come by because, unsurprisingly, when people start, they don't want to stop. At least we can make cloth pads to handle shortages of Tampax. Not so easy to make a condom.

But, all that being said, it's comfortable here. I'm comfortable. Seeing how things flourish makes me believe that there's still a future to be had for us. For a while after the Governor's attack, we feared retaliation. Daryl and Michonne went out searching, over and over again, but never found any sign of him. Eventually, Daryl focused more on supply runs and didn't stay out as long. The trail had gone cold. Michonne still searches. I think a part of her still wants revenge—for Andrea, for the people of Woodbury.

I look on the bright side. We have a farm with lots of produce. We have pigs and a horse named Flame. We have a system for catching rainwater and a way to shower. We're cleaner, happier, and I feel I've finally hit my stride with finding my place in this new world.

----------

I sit on my bed, feet bouncing, heart in my throat. I bite down on my knuckle and try to calm myself down. I don't have a timer or anything but I'm sure that it's been long enough. I just have to look.

It's a little white stick. It's a stupid little white stick and I should just look at it and stop being a coward.

I pick it up.

One pink line. Negative. Not pregnant.

The strangest mix of sorrow and relief hits me and through its fog, Daryl comes to me first. I had a scare months ago. Daryl was gone for a week looking for the Governor and we got a little too eager to greet each other when he got back, not wanting to stop and reach for protection.

Still, it sparked a conversation we needed to have, one we'd only mentioned in passing before. Daryl knew how I felt about children, but all I knew of his feelings were that he didn't know them. Condoms wouldn't last forever and when that day came, we needed to know what our plan of action was. Revert back to abstinence until we scrounge up more birth control? Try the pull out method and accept the likely consequences?

In the end, I told him that I believed in the prison, and that I don't want to miss out on starting our family when we have a place where they can thrive. I also told him that, if he truly didn't want children, that I understood and that we would need to be far more careful.

He kissed my forehead and said, simply, in that gruff voice of his, "If it happens, it happens."

I wonder now, looking at the very much negative test, if he'll be happy. I know I should be. Medicine and healthcare have gone medieval. I'm just...prolonging the worst physical pain I'll ever go through, right? And worst case, what if I end up like Lori, leaving Daryl and our child behind? Could I live with that?

"Hey Hope, you still sleeping?"

My hands fall to my lap as Daryl pushes the curtain aside, spilling light across our double bed (made from dismantling a bunk bed. Glenn and Maggie have the same thing).

I look up at him as a burst of emotion floods me. His attention darts to my shaking hands, to the pregnancy test, and I drop it onto our side table as his brows lift.

"It's negative," I croak out, blinking hard.

His expression softens and he comes inside, settling onto the bed beside me and pulling me close. "C'mere," he murmurs.

I sniffle as I sink into his arms, sucking deep breaths in an attempt to stop myself from crying. "I'm sorry," I say.

"S'okay," he says, rubbing my back, cheek pressed to the top of my head.

I brush my fingertips across my cheek, wiping away a few tears and blinking rapidly again. I sit up, staying close to him, but now I can at least see his face. He doesn't look happy, mostly concerned.

"Daryl, do...do you think I'm being selfish?" I ask.

His brow furrows. "Huh? No. Why?"

I shrug, leaning back into him as I trace lazy lines on his thigh. "This...it's good that it's negative. I shouldn't be wanting kids."

"Why not? Nothing wrong with it."

"Really? You're really gonna say that when..."

My breath hitches and again, Lori crosses my mind: a flash of her devoured corpse, the blood coating Maggie's arms, the single gunshot and Carl's distant gaze. My stomach flips.

Daryl cups my face, thumbs tracing my cheekbones. "The way I see it, world was always dangerous," he says. "You can't be sure that your kid will always be safe. Doesn't matter how bad you want it, things happen." I take another deep breath and he gives me a quick kiss, releasing me. "Hasn't stopped anyone before."

"At least humans were top of the food chain before."

"Hope..." he sighs, slightly exasperated.

I wring my hands. "I'm sorry, I think I'm just trying to convince myself I'm less upset about this than I am."

"We got time, angel face," he assures me. He gets up, holding his hand out and making a grabby motion. "Come on, let's get some food in you."

I give him a small smile as I grab his hand.

----------

The courtyard outside cell block C has been transformed right alongside everything else. There are covered dining pavilions with tables taken from the prison cafeteria, outdoor laundry stations with clotheslines, and rain barrels for catching water. Survivors bustle around, talking and laughing, and Daryl makes a beeline for the cooking area near the middle, still holding Hope's hand. He can already see Carol milling around inside, cooking.

He knows Hope will feel better the sooner she gets her mind off of babies. Daryl thinks that, ever since she turned thirty this past fall, she's been fretting about her biological clock or something. He doesn't like seeing her working herself up over something so pointless.

They move through the dining shelter and Daryl stops at one of the emptier tables. Dr. Subramanian, an Indian man not much older than Hope, looks up from his book when he hears them coming.

"Morning, Daryl. Hope," he greets, nodding.

"What's up, Dr. S?" Daryl asks. He pulls out a seat, gesturing Hope towards it, and she gives him a small smile as she slides into it.

"Nothing much," he replies.

Hope settles down, perching her head on her hand. "What're you reading today?"

"Ah, just brushing up on some philosophy."

Daryl takes that as his cue to leave, gripping Hope's shoulder briefly before moving to the kitchen. He hears more calls from the nearby table, people saying his name, greeting him. It still catches him off guard when they do that and, more often than not, he just ends up looking confused in their general direction.

He shakes it off as Carol comes closer. "Smells good," he says, nabbing a piece of venison from the grill and popping it in his mouth.

Carol smirks a little. "Just so you know, I liked you first," she says.

"Stop," he mutters. He eyes the food—a bit of meat, some veggies—and grabs another piece of meat. If they had any luck with finding chickens, maybe someday there'll be eggs in the mix. "Got enough for two?"

"Of course. Saved you both a plate."

She grabs a "plate," a.k.a an old takeout container, and Daryl glances back as yet another passerby calls out to him. Dr. S has returned to his book and Hope has moved to another table, chatting with the group seated there. There's a little girl, Eryn, and Daryl's lips purse at the way Hope smiles as she listens to her talk, nodding with genuine interest as she hangs on to her every word.

"And then, Tom goes with his friends to live on an island!"

"Like pirates?"

An eager nod. "Uh-huh! Like Captain Hook!"

Hope smiles. "Maybe Carol will read Peter Pan to you kids next, if you like pirates."

He's thought it before, and it won't be the last time: she'd be a damn good mom. He just isn't sure why she'd want him to be the dad for her kids.

"You know, Rick brought in a lot of them too," he says, turning back to Carol as she hands him a bowl with just venison.

"Not recently," she retorts. "Give the stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're gonna have to learn to live with the love." Her gaze darts over his shoulder and she gets that teasing glint in her eyes. "You've done it before."

"One person's different," he says. Besides, Hope doesn't count. Her love doesn't feel like something he has to live with, more like something he needs.

"Oh, I need you to see something," Carol continues as she closes up the takeout box, grabbing some cutlery. "Patrick, you want to take over?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Patrick, a curly-haired teen with round glasses, hurries to Carol's side, and she hands him the box. Daryl shoves more meat into his mouth.

"Take this to Hope for me, would you?" she asks.

Patrick nods and Daryl starts off, when Patrick clears his throat. "U-Um, Mr. Dixon?" he asks. Daryl stops, eyeing him. "I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir." Carol smiles a little and Patrick extends his hand. "I'd be honoured to shake your hand."

Lot of words just to say thank you. Daryl gives him another long look. He sucks the juice off his thumb, pointer, and middle finger in quick succession before slapping his hand into Patrick's, giving him a firm shake. The kid grins and Daryl nods at him. He's got a decent grip.

Daryl follows Carol out of the pavilion, still scooping venison into his mouth as he goes.

"About today, I don't know if we're gonna be able to spare a lot of people for the run," she says.

"That place is good to go. We're gonna move on it," he replies.

"Yeah..." She stops and they look out towards the dog run. "The thing is, we had a pretty big buildup overnight. Dozens more towards tower three. It's getting as bad as last month."

Daryl frowns. There are clumps of walkers piled up along the outer fence, clustering where the fence workers are. People sign up to go out there, spending hours just killing walkers with various tools, sharp enough to kill but thin enough to fit through the chainlink.

"With more of us sitting here, we're drawing more of 'em out," he says, gesturing. "You get enough of those damn fence-clingers, they start to herd up."

"Pushing against the fences again. It's manageable, but unless we get ahead of it, not for long." He glances at her just in time to see her pout, batting her eyelashes. "Sorry, Pookie."

He scoffs, bumping her with his elbow as he takes a few steps back. "Gonna check on Hope," he says.

"You don't wanna spend more time with me?"

Her tone is still light, teasing, and he raises an eyebrow. "Least she doesn't give me weird ass nicknames."

"I thought you liked Pookie."

"Stop."

She laughs softly. "But it's so fun," she says. He shrugs and her expression falls. "Is everything okay?"

Another shrug. "Fine. Why?"

A skeptical eyebrow raise and she glances back towards the dining pavilion. Daryl follows her gaze. Hope is seated, eating her breakfast and looking for all the world like she's just enjoying the food. He knows better.

"You're a little off this morning. Her, too," Carol says with a chin wag in Hope's direction.

Daryl sighs. He fiddles with the bowl in his hands, now empty. "Rough morning," he says. He purses his lips. "Took a test. Negative."

Carol nods slowly even as her expression tightens. "I see," she says.

"Maybe you could talk to her, woman to woman?"

"I doubt she'd like what I have to say."

He frowns, feeling slightly helpless. He feels like he knows Hope better than anyone and yet, sometimes, she's still a mystery to him. "Come on," he says.

"She should be glad," she says with a minute shrug. "Both of you."

His jaw clenches. He knows he should be, sees the logic Carol's no doubt thinking of, but he can't help it. It feels...well, he isn't sure what it feels like, but he isn't opposed. The getting her pregnant part isn't what scares him, it's raising the kid after.

"I'm serious," Carol says, taking his silence for something else. "If you're not ready, you should tell her."

"I am," he insists. "What, I can't be nervous about being a dad?"

"No, but I think you shouldn't be actively trying. There's enough kids running around with parents too scared to teach them the hard lessons."

"You think I wouldn't teach my kid to survive?"

"It's not you I'm worried about."

Again, her gaze shifts to Hope, and Daryl exhales through his nose as his jaw clenches. "Ain't gotta worry about her either."

He takes his leave. He's got a run to prepare for, people to lead. He can't linger on Carol's words, no matter how much they stick in his head. Hope gets to her feet when he approaches, empty takeout box in hand, and she tilts her head at him in questioning.

"I'm fine," he says before she can ask.

She dons a cute, pouty frown. "How'd you know what I was gonna say?"

"You're predictable." He leans over, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "Breakfast was good?"

"I think I'm still getting used to venison," she admits. "Almost prefer squirrel."

"If I see one, I'll bring it back for you."

She smiles like he's just promised her a puppy or a stack of chocolate or something. She's weirdly easy to please, but he likes that about her. He isn't the best at thoughtful gifts but she seems to appreciate what he does think of.

"Wanna help load up the cars?" he asks.

"Sure, I just have to make sure we don't lose track of time. Carl asked me to check on one of the pigs. She isn't feeling well, I hear."

"Hershel can't do it?"

"Hershel wants to make sure my vet muscles don't get flabby."

Makes sense, he thinks. On top of everything else she helps out with, Hershel has been helping her rekindle her vet school knowledge. Two vets are better than one, especially in keeping their livestock healthy.

"Gotcha," he says, taking her hand. "Come on."

----------

"What do you expect for today?" I ask Daryl as we gather up a few crates for the cars.

Daryl squints a little, thinking. "I'm thinking the place should be pretty untouched," he says. "Any requests?"

I pull a list from my back pocket, holding it out to him. "Fair warning, it's mostly hygiene stuff. Chloe has been really adamant about getting a Diva Cup."

"The hell is that?"

"It's a period product," I say, slightly hesitant to explain further. I point at the rough doodle I made next to it on the list. "It can be reused, so it can help our other supplies last longer. It'd be with the pads and tampons."

He chuckles a little at my expression. "You ain't gotta sugarcoat it. I ain't afraid of blood."

"Well, sorry for trying to spare you the grisly details," I say with a sarcastic eye roll. He scoffs again and I add, "The usual, okay? And painkillers and antibiotics are always a need, if they have a pharmacy."

"I'll do my best."

We get closer to the cars, where I can see Tyreese, Sasha, and Glenn have already gathered. Beth stands a little ways away with her boyfriend, Zack.

"I figured I'd step up to help, go with 'em," Zack is saying, one hand lightly touching Beth's arm. "Just, you know, wanted to make sure I saw you before."

"Okay," Beth says with a tiny smile.

"I just—'cause, you know, it's dangerous going out there."

She lets out a short laugh. "I know," she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

She moves past him, a tiny smile still on her face, and Zack watches her go as Daryl and I pass her. "Okay, are you gonna say goodbye?" he calls.

"Nope!" she retorts. Zack sags a little in defeat even as he smirks at her.

"It's like a damn romance novel," Daryl says as he reaches to put his crate in the truck bed.

He turns to take my crate from me as I give him a coy smile. "I think it's sweet."

"Yeah, well, you like that mushy crap."

He puts my crate in the truck and I wander to his side, reaching out to give his butt a squeeze. "So, what are we?" I ask, leaning close and resting my chin on his shoulder. "In the...novel department?"

He shoots me a heated look. "We're just living, angel face. Reality's freaky enough."

"Aw, nonfiction? Boring."

He growls a little, snatching me closer as his arm snakes around my waist. "You've really perked up, Mrs. Dixon," he mutters, voice low.

I trail my hand up his chest. "The way I see it, a negative test now just means we have to try again," I reply. "And I got some food in me. This really hot guy shot down a deer yesterday and totally won the hearts of men and women alike." I feign a sigh, leaning into him, emphasizing my assets. "If only I could thank him...that sexy, sexy hunter..."

He snorts, but I win because his eyes go right to where I want them to. "You know I've got a run to focus on."

"Just gotta remind you what you're coming home to." I pat his chest. "I should probably go check on the pigs."

"Alright. Do I get a goodbye?"

"Of course."

I tug him into a kiss, starting to pull away when he steals two more. He relinquishes his hold around my waist and, as I start to leave, he gives me a quick smack on the ass. I let out a tiny yelp, turning back to give him a teasing glare, and he smirks.

"Payback," he mouths.

I flip him off and he chuckles as I turn back around. "Love you! Come back safe and all that!" I call over my shoulder.

"Love you too," I hear him reply.

I smile to myself. The day seems brighter already and I have faith that this supply run will go well. Sometimes, all you have is faith.