Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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She's constantly helping with gardening or rebuilding—which we've done a lot of in the past six months. At first, I was able to help with the building process, and I'm proud to say that I helped build a lot of the newer houses and the framework of the windmill before it started getting harder for me to do things.

Then, almost dragging her with me, Michonne and I started working on the gardens. Something I still work on to this day. I can't just stay at home doing nothing. Plus, Judith enjoys playing with all the dirt and soil, so I can take her to the gardens.

"How're you doing today?" Daryl grunted, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turned up to him and smiled, our eyes meeting.

"Good," I answered truthfully, "I gardened, took a long walk with Judith around the walls, and now I'm here," Daryl nodded and broke our eye contact, his throat clearing.

"You gotta start taking it slow," Daryl reminded me, mimicking Siddiq, "You can pop any day now," I rolled my eyes and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know," I murmured and closed my eyes, loving how the breeze brushed past us. It was nearing winter, and I was ready for it. It's been unbelievably hot, so a nice, cold winter is something I desperately want. I'll probably regret wishing for a cold winter, though. "Was Kurt able to finish the crib?" Daryl grunted in response, confirming it.

"He finished a while ago," Daryl answered, using his words, "He's a good kid."

"Yeah," I answered, feeling happy. We took a chance on Kurt, and I'm delighted it played out; he had a knack for carpentry.

The Saviors have acclimated—well, most have—and have started trying to make a real home out of the Sanctuary. Most of us were still wary of them—I mean, who wouldn't be? Six months ago, they tried to kill all of us.

"Rick's looking around for you," Daryl informed me, "Something about trying to get that kid out of you," I blushed and looked at my hands, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Daryl groaned and lightly shoved me away.

"Seriously?" Daryl groaned, "You're already pregnant, and isn't it harder to—" I stopped him and shook my head, not bothering to give him details.

"It's actually recommended to have sex to help induce labor," I told him matter-of-factly, earning another groan from him.

"I don't wanna think about that," I giggled and grabbed his hand, placing it on the peak of my stomach and watching as a smile spread across his lips when the baby sent a sudden kick to the spot. "How do ya get any rest with all that moving?"

"I don't," I answered, "I'm so uncomfortable all the time." Daryl let his hand fall and looked at the grave one last time, nodding.

"Let's go," Daryl muttered and stood up, extending both hands my way. I gripped him tightly and struggled to get on my feet, laughing at how something as simple as standing back up had become impossible to do alone. Daryl walked alongside me in silence, both admiring our blossoming home. He paused a few feet from my house, giving me a reassuring nod. Since the Saviors surrendered and we've imprisoned Negan in our cells beneath our new home, Daryl hasn't been comfortable here in Alexandria. Neither has Maggie, and I can tell she resents Rick and me for keeping Negan alive.

It's what Carl wanted. He wanted us to stop all the senseless killing, and we started with Negan, even though Rick tried to end him. Negan now has a large scar across his neck from where Rick slashed his throat open—something he did out of grief ten minutes after Carl died. Siddiq saved Negan, stitched him up, and since then, he's been locked up.

"I gotta drag Selena back home," Daryl explained quickly, one of his many excuses not to come any closer, "You good?" I nodded at him and smiled tightly at him. He turned to walk away and disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone. Slowly, I ascended the steps and felt ridiculous for feeling so out of breath when I reached the top. The baby kicked me squarely in the ribs again, making me feel even more winded.