"Rick..."
Remorse, contempt, and humiliation all visibly showed on his complexion. After months of treating his ex-wife poorly, he ultimately felt his wrongdoings.
At what cost? She's long gone now, there's nothing that can be done. Sensing a delicate bundle in his arms gradually dragged him back to reality. Rick met a special new life brought into this vicious world.
For additional support, (Y/n) had her arms under his, not wanting the baby to drop.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." (Y/n) barely was able to whisper, Rick's loss is also her loss. Lori was her closest friend, she had been there for (Y/n) more than anyone ever been.
Rick gained his strength, finally being able to carry the child independently without assistance. He knew it isn't his child, but regardless, he'd cherish her.
"(Y/n)... come here for a second," Hershel called out, wanting to discuss a concern with her, away from the devastated widower.
Gently squeezing Rick's shoulder, (Y/n) whispered she'll return as soon as possible. No person should be left unattended in such a condition. Carl knew that, so he approached his father to stay by his side.
"How's the baby?" Hershel asked, watching the lady get her shit together. "She's... she's healthy." (Y/n) peeked at the calm baby, hoping she is how she appears to be.
"For now, she needs formula. Her mother isn't here to feed her." Hershel reminded them of the harsh circumstances of feeding a baby in an apocalypse.
"Fuck..." (Y/n) massaged her temples, spinning around to stroll towards the gate.
"Hey... hey." Daryl caught up with (Y/n), trying to match her rapid pace.
"Don't you think you should rest? I'll go search for a formula, and I swear I'll find one. Just go sit down and drink something to cool you down." Daryl stood in front of her, attempting to stop her,
"I'll cool down being out of here." (Y/n)'s shoulder collided against his arm, shoving him out of the way.
Daryl wasn't used to seeing this side of (Y/n), insensitive and numb. She just lost someone dear to her, no wonder she is feeling scared and stressed. Soon, if she didn't take action, another person will be gone.
"(Y/n), as long as I'm breathing, I'm not going to let anything happen to the child," Daryl soothed her, going to his motorcycle.
"Hope on, I'm taking you. It's better to use this vehicle, smaller and faster." Daryl sat upright, waiting for her to come behind him. After a bit of consideration, (Y/n) hopped on and clasped onto Daryl from behind.
Maggie rushed to open the gates, glimpsing at (Y/n) with an uneasy gaze. Her thoughts might drag her down, but Daryl just nodded at Maggie. Daryl won't let anything happen to her, no matter what it is.
The noisy sound of the motorcycle momentarily reduced throughout the distance from the prison. Daryl could feel (Y/n)'s forehead on his shoulder. Being incapable to protect a loved individual is frustrating.
"Lori entrusted a gift to you, her daughter. She wouldn't to see you weak, (Y/n)." Daryl was the worst at comforting people, but he wanted to make it precise that (Y/n) had to remain alive and strong.
"I know... I know. She gets to rest while I do all the tough labor." Cracking a little joke made the corners of Daryl's lips lift. There she is, his charming jokester.
"At least now you'll experience being a mother. Well, until you can have your own. It's like a free trial." Daryl heard her disheartened chuckle.
"Mhm... that's impossible for two reasons." (Y/n)'s voice got oddly faded, implying she was getting emotional. The man knew her too well. Her voice getting high means she's cheerful. When it gets soft and hushed, she's miserable. When it gets slightly raspy and aggressive, she's furious.
