"Time of death, 23:18" Dr. Bailey's somber voice resonates in the sterile operating room. Her gaze rests upon the lifeless figure lying motionless on the table and the teal sheets that envelop the body- stained with blood. It's a scene of heart-wrenching finality.

A wave of disorientation washes over me, and I stumble backward, suddenly feeling incredibly aware of all of the patient's blood covering my surgery garb and gloves. I feel like it's all over my body, suffocating me.

She's dead. Because she waited too long to give birth. And now she and her baby are both dead.

I feel like I can't breathe. The air in the room feels thin, and my breaths are shallow and insufficient.

Turning sharply, I rip off my mask and throw it into the hazard bag. My hands shake violently as I yank off my surgery garb, gloves, and cap as fast as I can.

"Dr. Adams!" Bailey's voice cuts through my haze of despair, filled with concern. Hot tears stream down my face, my vision blurred as I shake my head, running into the scrubbing room where I vomit in the trash can in the corner.

Collapsing to the ground, I wince at the sharp pain in my hip bone as it collides with the linoleum. The physical discomfort is a distant echo compared to the emotional turmoil within me.

She waited too long. And now she's dead. She was only 24, only a couple of years younger than me.

She wanted to finish her master's. And now she's gone forever.

Defeat and heartbreak surge through me as I curl up into myself, hugging my knees to my chest. I bury my face between my knees tightly, as if to shield myself from the agony that threatens to consume me.

I try to breathe as I disappear into myself, not bothering to listen to the muffled voices urging me to get up. Bailey's voice tries to reach me, her firm words mingling with the chorus of my internal turmoil. But I can't respond. I can't pull myself out of this pit of despair. I've lost a patient before, but this... this is different. This is a wound that cuts deep.

Time blurs as the minutes stretch on, my world narrowing to the grief that envelops me. And then, suddenly, it's Sophie beside me.

"Cassie, what's wrong?" Her gentle voice pierces through the darkness, and her hand rests on my knee. I know Bailey sent for her, but I don't care. It's the last straw. She hasn't talked to me in weeks in protest, trying to get me to leave Him.

I slowly lift my tear-streaked face from between my knees, meeting her concerned gaze. Her deep brown eyes are full of sadness as she takes me in. "Cass," She breathes, her face stricken with worry.

Not being able to take her expression, I throw my arms around her tightly, hugging her. I don't care anymore. Not talking to her for Him. I just want my friend back. Breathing in the familiar smell of her coconut shampoo, I feel like I can finally relax in her arms.

She gasps slightly as her arms wrap around my back. "Cass, you're skin and bones! What is he doing to you?" She questions with horror and disgust, her voice cracking with deep emptoin. Pulling away quickly, shame overwhelms me.

I can't let her know. She can't see. She wouldn't understand.

"I'm fine," I snap coldly. I can barely recognize my hollow voice as Sophie stares back at me, unflinching. Her lips press firmly together, determination flashing over her face.

"You're not," She states defnitively, shaking her head. "You're a ghost."

"I get it, Sophie! I know I'm pale, that's what happens when you never have time to leave the hospital," I burst out angrily, looking down. I'm sick of her stupid jokes.

"That's not what I mean. You're fading away. I don't know what he's doing to you... but you're a ghost of who you were," Sophie articulates quietly, her voice careful. Like if she talks too firmly to me, I'll just shatter. She's probably right.

After a beat, I lift my head to meet her face, my eyes welling with tears. Countless emotions surge through me as my best friend watches me. Defeat. Sadness. Dread. Regret. Fear. Exhaustion.

"I'm just. So tired," I whisper with a big sigh, my lower lip trembling. Tired of hiding the bruises. Tired of the excuses. Tired of being alone all the time. Tired of not being allowed to see my best friend.

I'm just tired.

Sophie's expression softens as she grasps my hand tightly. I blink up at her through the hot tears spilling out of my eyes and down my cheeks.

"I'm here. I'll always be here for you. When you're ready to leave him, just come to me"

___

"Are you actually fucking insane?? Let me in Cassandra, right now!!" He hollers through the door as I hyperventilate, pushing my back against the furthest wall in the bathroom. I watch in horror as he throws himself against the door, making it bend around the middle.

The knife in my iron grip shakes as my body shudders in fear. My heartbeat pounds in my throat, anxiety twisting unpleasantly in my stomach as I silently pray for him to calm down. To stop. My jaw trembles, goosebumps peppering my flesh.

He lets out a slew of obscenities at me, kicking the door once before finally giving up and going off to bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh of relief, I sink to the floor. I lean my head against the wall behind me, closing my eyes. Images of the pregnant woman the other day flash behind my eyes.

She waited too long. She refused to have her baby because she wanted to wait one more day. And it ended up causing complications, killing them both.

I waited too long. I stayed too long. If I continue to wait, continue to stay with him, I'll die too. I know it.

So I finally decide to wait. One last time.

My watch clicks quietly over the silence of the bathroom for an hour until his snoring becomes regular. It's not long until I recognize the signs that he's deeply asleep. His snoring finally becoming rhythmic and deep.

It's like slow motion as I carefully stand up, my heart pounding in my chest as I set the knife on the counter as quietly as possible. I pause for a moment as I hear him rustling the sheets, moving in his sleep. Once his snoring resumes, I slip out of the bathroom.

My hands tremble as I shoulder on my coat over my scrubs, grabbing my purse from the hook beside the door. I check to make sure. Wallet, keys, passport, cell phone. Check, check, check, and check.

Sparing a glance back at the empty living room, my heart breaks. Our apartment. I remember feeling so much happiness and excitement when we toured it for the first time together. The sun was shining so brightly through the big windows as we looked at each other with excitement, taking it all in for the first time. It was supposed to be ours. Full of love. Happiness. Warmth.

I can't lie. The good moments were good. Laughing on the couch as we watched old movies, teaching me and his daughter how to play his video game, the night he told me he loved me. No matter how good the good moments were, the bad was so much worse.

My stomach flips at the memories. When he threw me so hard against the wall it left a sizable dent that is now hidden behind his Pulp Fiction poster. When he broke my wrist because I suggested that we could go to dinner at Sophie and Michonne's. When he choked me to the point of passing out because the checkout guy at the store flirted with me and I smiled back. Throwing out endless empty bottles of concealer and foundation I used to cover the bruises.

I let out a breath, taking in the dark apartment for one last time. Blue light filters in the windows from the city lights, rain pounding the windows.

Then I leave.

Looking up at the facade of Sophie's brownstone after knocking on her front door, I feel a sense of relief. I'm soaked to the bone after I walked eight blocks through the pouring rain to get here. I barely even remember walking over.

Sophie opens the door to her bright home, still laughing and looking back at her girlfriend. I blink at the sudden yellow light pouring over me in the dark street. I'm hit with the smell of something delicious being cooked in the kitchen, a wall of warm air wafting over to me. Sophie finally turns her head to look at me, her smile falling when she takes me in, standing on her doorstep looking like a drowned rat.

"I- left him," I breathe, starting to tremble, the cold finally getting to me. It takes Sophie a second to comprehend what I'm saying before she jumps into action, wrapping herself around me and guiding me inside the warmth of her house. Michonne walks out of the kitchen in an apron, with a curious expression on her face. Once she sees me, she drops the towel in her hand, rushing over to wrap me in a warm hug.

Sophie and Michonne helped me get back on my feet. Gave me a place to stay. Helped me file the police report and restraining order. They even retrieved my stuff for me so I didn't have to go back there.

They were the ones who saved me from that monster. It's a shame I couldn't return the favor when the real monsters came after them.

- 8 months after the farm -

I help Lori up the stairs of the house we cleared for the night, guiding her into the living room. As she sits down, my gaze lingers on her stomach. She's going to need to deliver. Very soon.

Asking her how she's feeling, I take her BP quickly, relieved at the normal stats. We were lucky enough to stumble across a local doctor's office and I found some helpful tools for Lori, and amazingly, some prenatal vitamins. I wanted to grab all the stuff we could, but we didn't have room for it on the run. Rick promised we would come back down the line, once we find a place. If that ever happens.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts at the sound of a can being thrown across the room. Looking up, I see Rick staring down at Carl, who has another can at his feet. A can of dog food.

A sick feeling washes over me. Carl is growing up in a world where dog food is a find. I hang my head, not being able to stomach his dejected and innocent face.

He acts tough. Has a gun and kills walkers on a daily basis. His dad gives him these responsibilities because he wants them. And it doesn't hurt to keep him prepared. I just worry about his development. More than Sophia's. She's surviving alongside us, but she doesn't do any killing. She doesn't have that burden.

I used to listen to psychiatry residents talking about video games warping the minds of kids and making them violent. What does surviving and fighting through an apocalypse do?

"psst," T-dog hisses, nodding his head to the window. Dread and exhaustion course through my body at the sight. Another herd is coming for the house. Already. We let out a collective groan before getting up again and running out the back door. We clamber into our cars and drive off.

As we drive away, I rub my temples, trying to fight my hunger-induced headache. Daryl hands me a piece of owl that he cooked back at the house, which I take with a tired smile of thanks.

Eventually, we find an empty and walker-free road to pull over and stop at, taking out our map and discussing which ways to go next. I stare down at the crumpled paper. At the red circles and X's dotted around the roads, chewing my bottom lip. Multiple herds are moving around the area, and we've had to run around in circles to get away from them. It's like an endless game of cat and mouse.

It's hard to not feel helpless. We've been doing this for 5 months now. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Especially with a malnourished pregnant woman who's due to give birth any minute now.

After deciding to backtrack in a southwest direction, T-dog, Glenn, and Maggie go off to get some water from the creek to boil. As they leave, I turn to Rick.

"Lori can't keep moving around like this. She's going to give birth any day now," I urge Rick, staring up at him. He turns to me, his expression hard.

"Don't you think I know that? I don't want her giving birth out here any more than you do," Rick snaps, frustration written over his face. He looks back at the map with a tired sigh.

I gulp, looking away and running a hand through my hair. Placing my hands on my hips, I glance over at Lori sitting in the red SUV, before looking back at her husband. "Look. I know you want to find a place for us, just as much as I do, but we might not get that luxury. We need to figure out another solution," I argue desperately, making Rick let out a long breath, placing a hand on his holster and looking down.

"Hey, instead of just talkin' in circles, let's go hunt. That owl didn't exactly hit the spot," Daryl grunts as he comes up to me and Rick, loading up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder. I pause for a moment, glancing at Rick before nodding in agreement.

The three of us walk down rusted train tracks that run through the forest. I wipe the sweat off my brow, trudging behind Daryl and Rick, watching my feet as we go to try to avoid tripping. Which I've already done. Twice.

All of a sudden, I walk right into someone, stumbling back, to see Rick and Daryl standing still, looking off in the distance.

I follow their gaze to an abandoned state prison in full view past a break of trees, where walkers clad in prisoner jumpsuits wander around a large yard. It's a small collection of big buildings with a considerable yard in the front which is encased with 20 ft tall fencing and guard towers placed around the perimeter.

"Shame," Daryl mutters, turning to continue walking. It is a shame it's overrun. It would be a great place- made to keep people in. To keep them secure. Those guard towers would definitely come in handy for herd lookouts.

I begin to follow Daryl, pausing when Rick doesn't budge, still staring out at the prison. I glance up at his expression as his mouth starts to pull into a slight smile, a distant expression in those eyes. My heart flutters slightly as I realize.

We found it.

Around the yard of the prison are two layers of fencing. We break through the first layer into a protected walkway, securing the cut fence behind us.

We jog around the perimeter of the yard in the walkway, stopping when we reach the main entrance. There's a large gate that leads into the yard with a watchtower and another gate behind that leads to the main road. The walkers, clad in their prison overalls, thrash against the chicken wire fence, trying to get to us.

Catching my breath, I place my hands on my hips and examine our surroundings. The yard looks even bigger up close. It's divided by a gravel road that winds up to the buildings of the prison, an overturned prisoner bus lying in the middle of it. The collection of buildings beyond the yard looks intimidating. Immense concrete buildings with barred and rusting windows.

It's cold. Industrial. Unwelcoming. Yet the sight of it makes a strange sense of hope rise up in my chest.

"It's perfect," Rick declares, placing his hands on his hips. I glance at him with skepticism, crossing my arms over my chest. Perfect is a strong word.

"If we can secure that other gate, we can trap the walkers, killing them one by one." Rick starts and I follow his gaze to the other side of the yard, where an open gate borders the yard from the industrial prison buildings. "Then we have the yard, cleared for us for the night," Rick states, a slight smile shadowing his face.

"I can do it, I'm the fastest," Glenn offers, but Maggie immediately shakes her head.

"No, it's a suicide mission," She replies sharply.

"It's okay. Daryl and Maggie, you take the tower on the west side, Carl and Herschel, take this one." Rick orders, nudging his head to the tower beside us, and they run off with a nod, their guns ready.

"You two try to be as loud as you can over there to get them to surround the fence, okay?" Rick asks Sophia and Beth. They agree before running over, grabbing a couple of tools to bang against the fencing. "You guys, take out the ones they lure over" Rick orders Carol and T-Dog.

The group disperses to their stations ordered by Rick, leaving him, Lori, and me. "I'll close the gate," Rick declares, squinting his eyes in the bright afternoon sun as he looks back out to the field.

"Alone?" I question, raising my eyebrows. There are a lot of walkers in that yard. Too many to go alone.

Those blue eyes, bright with excitement, meet mine. "No. You're coming with me. You've become a good shot. Up close at least," He adds lowly, a shadow of a smile on his face.

Blushing slightly, I roll my eyes, retrieving my gun from the holster. He's not wrong. Over the past months I've been training, but I am definitely not good at aiming from a distance. If I can't shoot from a tower, at least I can be useful and help make sure he doesn't get mauled by walkers.

Lori opens the gate for us, and we nod in thanks before taking off up the gravel road.

The two of us jog up the road, our guns at the ready. We pause for a moment by the prison bus for brief shelter before we continue after deciding it's clear. I shoot a couple of walkers that are in the way, dodging a few that lunge toward me.

Luckily, Beth and Sophia are doing a great job of distracting a large number of the walkers, drawing the brunt of them away from us. I'm about to shoot another walker when an arrow pierces right through its skull. Pausing, I turn to Daryl in the guard tower on the west side, giving him a quick nod of thanks.

After we finally reach the gate by the prison, Rick drags it closed while I take out the few walkers trying to escape through. We secure the gate to the fence, dodging a herd of walkers nearing us by slipping into the guard tower right beside the gate.

Breaking down the door and slamming it shut behind us, the two of us pause for a moment in the entryway, straining our ears for any telltale signs of walkers. The tower's dark interior is cool and damp, a stark contrast to the humid heat and scorching sun we've been exposed to outside.

My breath catches in my throat as I glance over at Rick, realizing how close we are in this tiny hall which is clearly meant for one person to walk through at a time. I curse my foolish heart as it starts to pound loudly in my chest at our proximity- at how near our bodies are, only about a foot between us.

Rick's gaze shifts to me, suddenly making all the fluttering sensations that much worse. From our close proximity, I can see the texture of his face up close, making my chest tighten. I find myself fixating on the faint trail of freckles across his strong nose while those damn eyes gaze back at me, his pupils dilated in the darkness.

And then, there's his smell. Not just the residue of sweat from our sprinting and fighting walkers, but something deeper, more uniquely him. His presence overwhelms my senses, drawing me in despite my internal debate.

My traitorous gaze dips to his lips, a surge of longing flooding my chest. The idea of leaning in, closing the gap between us, and tasting his lips consumes my thoughts.

What would it be like? To have his lips press against mine, to feel our hot breaths intermingle as we separate? The desire tightens its grip on me, a bittersweet ache building in my chest.

"I think it's clear," Rick's voice breaks through the fog of my daydreams, a low murmur that jolts me back to the present. This shakes me out of the trance I was in and I nod quickly, trying desperately to clear the thoughts of kissing him. It doesn't help how hot his voice just sounded. Soft with that deep roughness behind it, stirring something deep in me.

Rick gently pushes past me, leading the way up the narrow staircase and up to the top of the guard tower. I take a second to steady myself, taking a breath and pressing the back of my hand to my mouth to regain my composure before I follow suit.

I'm taken aback by the incredible view as we emerge onto the balcony surrounding the tower. It overlooks the entire yard, the forest beyond it, a man-made lake, and the rest of the prison. Despite the overwhelming stench of walkers slightly ruining the experience, it's actually really beautiful.

I catch the faint command from Daryl to "Light 'er up!" and almost immediately, the group springs into action, unleashing a barrage of gunfire aimed at the aimlessly wandering walkers in the yard.

With each echoing shot and falling walker, a sense of accomplishment surges within me. It's as if we're pushing back against the despair that's encroached upon us for far too long.

As the last walker crumples to the ground, my gaze instinctively turns to Rick. Butterflies erupt in my stomach at the broad grin pulled across his handsome face. It's breathtaking.

His profile stands silhouetted against the backdrop of the setting sun, his expression a testament to resilience and triumph. The features that have always captivated me are illuminated, and his grin only accentuates his attractiveness.

It's been too long since I've seen that expression. We've been through so much in the past months. It makes our short happy month on the farm seem like years ago.

Rick's eyes shift to meet mine, that infectious grin still taking over that attractive face. I can't help the smile that tugs at my own lips, sharing his feeling of relief and hope.

Laughter trails up from the field as the group flows into the yard. Sophia and Carl run out in front, laughing hysterically as they race across the grass. I chuckle as I watch them, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly happy.

Rick was right. All those months ago, when he insisted we would find a place.

A safe haven.

The sun has set, and we settle around a campfire for the night. A few of the men cleared the bodies from the field, piling them up in a corner to burn tomorrow.

Daryl stands watch on the overturned bus by the gate as the rest of us surround the fire. We finish eating our grilled squirrels and discussing our plans around the fire.

It's strange. We've had fires nearly every night but it's been a long time since I've felt this unbelievable sense of safety. It's jarring.

Lori watches Rick as he paces the fence, looking up at the prison beyond it. "We could find a way to funnel some of that lake water to here, make sure the walkers keep out. And we'd have a freshwater supply," T-dog offers, making me look up at him. That's a really good idea. It's bizarre being able to plan for a future here. For so long it all just felt hopeless.

"With this land, we could plant cucumbers, tomatas, soybeans... We would have food," Herschel suggests, hope flowering in my chest at his words. We could be safe... have a farm out here to provide us with a healthy and secure food source. It's unbelievable that we finally found our new home.

"That's his third time around," Herschel mutters, nudging his head at Rick. "If there was a part that was compromised, he would'a found it by now," Herschel states, shaking his head slightly. I glance over at Rick's dark figure as he slowly strides the length of the fence.

I furrow my brows slightly, turning my head to the side as I examine him. "I don't think that's what's on his mind," I say. Heads turn to me curiously.

I spare a glance at them before looking back at Rick for a moment. "It just looks like he's thinking about the possibilities," I express, glancing around at the group.

"If we could clear out the prison and really clean it up - we would have the most secure place to survive," I explain with emphasis. "A place, like he said all those months ago. A place to live. To farm the land and create a stable food source. Have actual buildings that can keep us safe. Sound doesn't travel well through concrete blocks, so we wouldn't need to worry about constantly being quiet or the baby crying," I finish with a shrug, looking into the fire, feeling slightly embarrassed by my long monologue.

"Exactly."

My head snaps up to see Rick standing across from the fire, watching me. He turns to the rest of them after a beat. "I know you guys are tired. I am too, trust me. But if we can just secure a building, we're set. We can slowly clear out the entire prison from there." Rick explains, the rest of the group seeming unsure, glancing at each other warily.

"From what I can see, there isn't any part of the prison that's compromised. The only walkers are in guard uniforms or prisoner jumpsuits. It would be full of civilians if it wasn't secure. It may take some work but realistically, we could clear it completely." Rick explains, seeming hopeful. He's right, but God. I'm so tired.

"You don't have to decide right now. You can have the night to think it over. Just enjoy the peace right now," Rick eventually says with slight defeat, making the group relax a bit.

For the past 5 months, we've been on the run. Jumping from house to house. Camp to camp. Constant fighting, searching, scavenging, being on edge at all times. It's a relief to just have a moment to breathe.

After the group relaxes a bit, Beth and Maggie sing a couple of songs, uplifting the mood. They teach Sophia some of the songs. I watch them with a smile, enjoying the bright expression of happiness on Sophia's face. It's nice to see her like this.

Eventually, the group begins to settle down for the night. Thankful to finally be able to rest, I curl up beside the fire near Maggie and Glenn, enjoying the feeling of the dying fire keeping me warm as my eyes slowly close, heavy sleep overcoming me.

I jerk awake, breathing heavily as a large and warm hand comes up to caress my back soothingly. "Hey, you alright?" Rick's voice asks me softly. I whip my head to look over my shoulder at him, frowning when I take him in.

Wasn't he on the other side of the fire?

He looks so... clean. I sit up abruptly, realizing the two of us are in a bed with expensive-looking cream sheets. Confusion overwhelms me as I glance around us, taking in the room we're in.

The room is a stark contrast to the world we've known—a small, cozy space bathed in gentle yellow light from big windows. Warm light filters through the white curtains, casting a soft glow on the whole room. Framed photos line the walls along with chestnut bedroom furniture and clothes tossed around a hamper in the corner. It's so lived in yet clean. Pre-Turn clean.

There's a framed picture sitting right on the bedside table beside an alarm clock and a book. The photo is of me and Rick standing together, grinning widely at the camera. My heart leaps when I take in the beautiful white gown I'm in and the tux Rick's wearing.

A wedding picture?

What is happening?

"Did you have a bad dream?" Rick questions me softly, watching me with concern. Shifting my gaze to him, I'm left momentarily speechless. His appearance is unlike anything I've seen for a long time—clean, unburdened by dirt and weariness.

His normally sweaty and dirty hair is now curly and shiny- as if he just washed it. That face isn't worn with stress and grief, just slightly crumpled in concern. For me.

"I- I don't know. There were walkers-" I begin, struggling to reconcile the memories in my mind with the surreal scene before me. Rick cracks a warm and comforting smile.

"Oh, the walker nightmare again. Come here, I know that one is hard," He murmurs deeply, wrapping me in a warm and intimate embrace.

Gingerly, I wrap my arms around him, my eyes fluttering closed as I relax against his clean white shirt, letting out a sigh of relief.

"It was awful. You had a-a pregnant wife," I stutter, glancing at our photos hung on the wall behind Rick. Each photo is of us on some trip, smiling or laughing for the camera. It's unbelievable.

Rick chuckles against me, that warm soothing rumbling of his laughter sending waves of comfort throughout my body. "I do have a pregnant wife," he chuckles. Pulling away from his embrace, I widen my eyes, looking down at my suddenly huge pregnancy bump.

Well that's new.

"But it was Lori-" I stutter, blinking at Rick in confusion.

"I don't know who Lori is. I love you, Cass. Only you. Until death do us part, right?" His tone is playful, his crinkled eyes filled with affection as they search mine.

A tremendous wave of relief washes over me.

He's not taken with a wife and children. He's married to me.

My husband Rick.

Wow.

I glance down at the wedding ring on my left hand. It's a silver band with brilliantly shining diamonds running along it and a larger oval-shaped diamond in the middle. It's beautiful.

I look back up at Rick in disbelief at this perfect life. "Must have been one hell of a dream huh?" Rick chuckles and I nod wordlessly, blinking rapidly. "I could never love anyone that's not you," Rick murmurs, brushing my cheek softly as he stares at me with so much love that it makes my heart leap. It's all I could ever want for him. All my dreams come true.

All my dreams come true.

"What about Carl?" I question, furrowing my brows. He obviously loves his son. More than me, I would hope. Rick's face remains unchanged.

"Who's Carl?" He asks curiously, turning his head to the side, his eyes searching mine. Panic courses through my veins as I attempt to process the absurdity of the dream, of this reality that I so desperately wish were real.

No. This isn't right.

"Don't you love me, Cass?" Rick asks, his voice traced with concern as he furrows his brows, gathering my hands in his. I stop, looking back at him, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

This isn't real.

But then, my body is consumed by searing pain. Agony radiates from my abdomen, and I cry out, my hands clutching my stomach. The scene shifts abruptly, and I find myself lying on an operating table in a familiar environment—the hospital in OR 7.

My head swivels as I look around wildly, trying to figure out what's going on, but I can't move the rest of my body. Must have already gotten my epidural.

Wait, who's operating on me?

"I am, Bunny," a voice sneers from beside me, sending shivers down my spine. My eyes dart to the side to see Him holding a butcher's knife, grinning wickedly down at me. I scream, lurching forward to grab the knife away from him.

I'm jolted out of my nightmare, panting heavily, my heart still pounding. I sit up quickly with a gasp. The sky is barely lighting up on the horizon and the rest of the group is fast asleep by the dead fire. I hold my hand to my hammering heart, trying to catch my breath.

"You alright?" Rick asks, and I whip my head to the side to see him sitting up, clearly already awake. It's a strange relief seeing him as his normal self. Still covered in dirt with Lori and Carl asleep beside him.

A relief, despite the deep pang in my heart.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I breathe, sighing and running a hand through my hair. "Do you know what time it is?" I ask, my voice hoarse.

"5:37" Rick replies after glancing at the face of his watch.

"And how long have you been awake?" I question with a raised eyebrow.

"Two hours," Rick replies shamelessly and it's no surprise. There were countless times over the past months when I woke up early and he was already up. "I couldn't sleep, just thinking about... everything," He sighs, looking down at his hands.

I sit in a more comfortable position, turning to face him. "Better than having a freaky dream turned nightmare," I mumble, still feeling weird, my stomach churning uncomfortably with the imaged my mind cruelly created. 

My stomach swoops slightly remembering Rick and me being together. Being married. Having him tell me he loved me. And would only ever love me.

It doesn't feel nice now. It just makes my heart ache with yearning.

"Yeah that looked like it was bad," Rick says with a slight grimace, and I feel a rush of embarrassment, suddenly concerned I accidentally voiced my deepest desires.

"Did I say anything?" I ask, trying to sound indifferent. He glances over at me, slight concern behind his eyes.

"You were just mumbling about something not being right. You cried out then you lunged awake," Rick explains carefully. I let out a breath of relief, nodding.

"Yeah, it ended with me in my old hospital on the operating table with my ex saying he was going to perform surgery on me, holding a butcher's knife. So... yeah not a great dream," I breathe, letting out a sarcastic chuckle.

Rick's eyebrows raise. "The abusive ex?" He questions gently, and I nod once, looking down for a moment. I hate that I feel embarrassed when he's brought up. As if it's somehow my fault I was in an abusive relationship. "He wasn't a surgeon was he?" Rick asks, and I almost burst out with laughter.

"No. He was not a surgeon, not even close. He had some business job I could never remember the title of," I chuckle, shaking my head.

"So, you didn't meet him at the hospital?" Rick asks, turning his head and looking at me. He shakes his head slightly."You don't have to tell me-"

"- No, it's okay. I actually did meet him at the hospital. I was treating his daughter who had appendicitis," I explain, and he nods. "It seems so long ago. Normal life," I mumble, thinking about life before. That ache in my chest returns as I think about the dream. About me and Rick, in another life. A normal world where we're happily married. With me carrying his child, not Lori.

It's a cruel joke really.

"This is our new normal. We have to live with that." Rick sighs, poking the charred logs in the pit.

I glance over at the prison, the buildings standing tall in the quiet morning. "I hope this is a good place after all. I mean, I believe in us. We survived this long with nothing. And there's so much potential here," I say softly as I watch the walkers meandering around the buildings. Still no civilian walkers to be seen, which is a good sign.

Rick's voice reaches my ears as I continue to watch the prison.

"We can do it. We have to."