Zedler, M.D. // Daryl Dixon

Chapter Forty-Eight: Michonne

forty-eight

Beatrix

For two days, Lori has been on bed rest, and Enid and Carl have been helping her care for the new baby. We just had a funeral for Lucy, which is what Carl refers to his dead sister as, and Lori was the only one that didn't come. Even Hershel managed to walk himself out on a pair of crutches to say a prayer for the little girl.

"Daryl," I whisper, looking over at him. He looks back, giving me the okay to say what I wanted to say, "I'm sorry I made you put her down."

"You didn't make me do anything," he answers. "I did it so you wouldn't have to."

"I'm still sorry," I say, taking a seat in the kitchen area of the prison.

"Glenn and I are heading out to get formula, baby clothes, and whatever else we can find," Maggie announces to the whole group. "We'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Be safe, sweetheart," Hershel says, hugging his daughter before she leaves.

It's sad that this is what the world has come to, but there's nothing we can do about it now. I get up to follow Maggie and Glenn out so that I can open and close the gate for them. We don't speak as they leave, just nod at each other in an understanding that nobody outside of our group would ever get. Maggie and Glenn just left to risk their lives to get supplies for two babies that aren't even theirs. Nobody can tell me that isn't love for all of us, even Talia, Sebastian, Enid and Ebony.

Walking back up to the prison, I look for Rick. I need to talk to him and see if he's okay after what happened with Lori and the baby. When I return, T-Dog tells me that he's in the watch tower, so that's where I head next. After walking up the flights of stairs, I find him sitting with his back to me.

"Rick," I say, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumps, but moves back once he realizes it's just me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he mumbles. "Shit happens. I guess I should just be lucky I have one baby instead of none."

"That's a good outlook to have, but you still had a baby that died, ate your other baby's finger in the womb, and tried to eat your wife from inside out. That would traumatize anyone," I sigh, sitting down beside of him. "You know you're like my dad, right? I literally think of you as a father, Rick."

"And you've become my daughter, Bea," he sighs, slinging his arm over my shoulder. "It just fucking sucks."

"I know," I let out a giggle. "But the whole world sucks now. And you have to look at the bright side: you have a wife, an amazing son that loves you, and two new, beautiful daughters."

"What?" He looks over at me in confusion, and I watch his face as he gets it. "Ahhhh. You're right! I do have two new, beautiful daughters."

"See? It's not all so bad," I smile, and he returns it.

//////////

By nightfall, Glenn and Maggie still haven't returned, and it's easy to tell that everyone in the group is worried about them. Hershel is the most visibly stressed, pulling out his pocket watch every couple of minutes as he stares out the window. I feel sorry for him.

"Maybe they found something awesome and decided to spend the night and come back in the morning," I offer to anybody in the room that will listen.

"Yeah," Beth mutters, turning her attention to the crying baby in the crate next to her. The Grimes Family hadn't named the living baby yet, so we call call her by what Daryl wrote on her makeshift crib: Lil Ass Kicker.

I'm not much help to anybody, obviously, so I decide to spend my time doing more important things, such as hiding out in my trailer while pretending not to worry. For hours, I sort, dump out, and resort every single item in the trailer. As I sort, I count, and that makes me nervous. I'm getting low on surgical supplies. I'm stocked on anything I'd need to treat a superficial wound, but—big surprise—we've had barely any of those happen.