Chasing Amy (Daryl Dixon/The Walking Dead)

Chapter 51 - Baby Blues

"D'you think Maggie's okay, daddy?" Beth had whispered across to her father, the sound oddly loud and crisp in the silent, airy, space.

"I think she's, she's gonna be just fine, Bethy." Hershel replied, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

The father and daughter were still standing by the fenced off area, still alone, still waiting.

Rick pushed open the doorway to cell block C, emerging from the building followed closely by Glenn and Daryl.

There were bodies littered over the ground, a familiar sight, considering the courtyard was only emptied a few days ago.

"Hershel!" He called from a distance.

The older man glanced up hesitantly, gripping his crutch under his arm.

Running towards the father and daughter was the five men, alone, and rather downcast.

"You didn't find them?" Hershel asked, referring to Lori, Carl, Maggie...

Even as he thought of all the missing people, his daughter included, Hershel found himself swallowing harshly. He unintentionally narrowed his eyes down on the leader as they slowed at the staircase.

"We thought that maybe they came back out here." Glenn was pale, his voice shaken and tired. There was a sense of helplessness in his expression that broke at the group's spirit, considering the young man's usual optimism.

Beth shook her head heavily, her breathing becoming erratic once more.

"What about T?" Hershel asked, squinting across. "Carol? Amy?"

At the mention of her name, Daryl looked up from where he stared down at his crossbow, eyes heavy with frustration.

"Gone." He said slowly, before lowering his head again. Suddenly, the faint indents on the surface of his crossbow had become very interesting.

Hershel inhaled slowly, however Glenn was quick to intercept and elaborate.

"T-Dog... We found him in a corridor." The young man shook his head. "Amy, Carol... They're still missing, but there's a chance--"

"Just because T-Dog... Just because he didn't make it, doesn't mean the others didn't make it either." Rick turned back, his voice rough. "We're going back. Daryl, and Glenn, you come with m--"

There was a small sound.

A sound that, at first, seemed so strange to the ears of the hardened prisoners, Rick had initially assumed it was another walker... Another creature to take care of.

But it was such a small, soft, beautiful sound.

It hollowed at something deep inside Rick, as a father, and brought an immediate lump to his throat as he wheeled around to the direction of the noise.

It was a tiny wail, just a tiny, small, cry.

And that's all it took to draw the attention away from the misery, the panic of that moment.

There, in the arms of Maggie, across the courtyard, was a baby.

Wrapped in a dirty denim jacket, bloody hands holding her so preciously tight, was the contrastingly innocent, pure, newborn daughter of Rick Grimes.

He had yet to react as such, his eyes scanning behind Maggie, waiting for the rest of his family to emerge, to bring the good news to life, to make it all seem real.

Rick's son, the young Carl, had a slump in his shoulders that he hadn't noticed before, a faraway look on his sweaty face, blood coating his hands, too.