Two months later, winter had begun to loosen its grip.
Snow still clung in patches across the yard, but the days stretched longer, and the bite in the air wasn't quite as sharp.
The prison had changed. Gardens had been plotted in the cleared yard, tarps stretched for makeshift greenhouses.
Fires no longer smoked in the open; chimneys had been rigged from scrap, funneling heat into the blocks.
And for the first time since the outbreak, there was visible proof of new life.
Amy, Andrea, and Emma all moved with hands drifting absentmindedly to their bellies, each with a large curve beneath their clothes.
Despite the hardships, they looked strong... healthy even. Pregnancy had softened their faces, but there was color in their cheeks and strength in their steps.
Hershel made his rounds in the infirmary that morning, Maggie and Beth trailing him as helpers.
He examined each of the women in turn, his rough farmer's hands oddly gentle as he pressed lightly against their stomachs, listened to heartbeats, and checked their pulses.
He smiled faintly after finishing with Emma. "Textbook healthy. All of them. Strong heartbeats, steady growth. You'd never guess the world outside had ended."
Andrea smirked. "Guess the apocalypse diet agrees with us."
Amy rolled her eyes, laughing softly, while Emma blushed pink.
Joe stood nearby, arms crossed, a quiet smile tugging at his scarred features as he watched them.
Hershel caught his eye and nodded. "They're fine, Joe. Perfectly fine."
Joe gave a short nod of thanks. It was the best news he could possibly receive. It wouldn't be long before he had three little newborns.
But Hershel's expression sobered as he moved to the next patient. Lori sat stiffly on the cot, her hands clasped protectively over her own swollen stomach.
She was pale, more than she should be and her eyes looked hollow despite the steady food supply they'd secured.
Hershel frowned, checking her over. He pressed her wrist, then pulled out a small vial of blood he'd drawn earlier.
The results came back quick enough, and his expression darkened.
"You're anemic," he said gently. "Dangerously so. Even with the food we've got, your body isn't keeping up."
Lori's face pinched, defensive. "But I've been eating. I make sure of it."
Hershel nodded, voice calm. "It's not about how much you're eating. Sometimes pregnancies take more than the body can give. You're going to need extra iron, more protein, and rest. A lot of rest."
Beth handed over a bottle of supplements scavenged from the infirmary shelves. "This should help, at least."
Lori took it, hands trembling.
Rick lingered in the doorway, half in shadow, watching silently.
His jaw was clenched, torn between anger, grief, and helplessness. Whatever Lori had done, whatever betrayal still sat between them.
That child she carried was Carl's sibling. It was innocent. Vulnerable.
Rick's eyes softened, if only a little, as he stepped forward. "She'll get what she needs. I'll make sure of it."
Lori didn't meet his gaze. She only looked down at her hands, at the life growing inside her, and nodded faintly.
Across the room, Joe's women were laughing together softly, their health a beacon of hope.
But Lori's pale face and Hershel's furrowed brow cast a shadow over it all.
A reminder that nothing in this world came without a cost.
...
Lori's health became the quiet storm inside the prison.
Rick visited her cot every day, making sure she ate what Hershel set aside, bringing her extra portions of protein.
Insisting she take the supplements Hershel had scrounged. It wasn't the same strained bitterness of the farm.
His care was gentler now, a sense of duty weighing heavier than the wounds between them. But it was care all the same.
Elize noticed.
She was quiet at first, watching Rick carry bowls of soup or sit at Lori's side a little longer than he stayed anywhere else.
When she finally spoke, her voice was cold.
"You said you couldn't trust her. That you were done with her. But now you're..." she gestured toward the infirmary, "hovering over her like she's the only one that matters."
Rick rubbed his face, exhausted. "Elize… she's carrying Carl's sibling. Whatever happened between us, that baby didn't choose it. It's innocent."
Elize's jaw clenched. "So what about me? About us? Do you expect me to stand by while you slip back into her shadow?"
Rick's silence was answer enough.
The rift grew, subtle but sharp. Elize pulled back, her smiles rarer, her words shorter. Rick carried the guilt of it, but his sense of duty never wavered.
It was Michonne who finally bridged the gap.
One evening, she sat with Elize in the yard, oiling her katana while the other woman stared off toward the fence.
"You think Rick still loves her," Michonne said plainly.
Elize flinched. "…Doesn't he?"
Michonne shook her head. "What he loves is doing what's right. Sometimes he can't separate the two. He'll take care of Lori, not because he wants her, but because he can't let himself fail the innocent part of the situation. The child."
Elize's eyes softened, doubt breaking into reluctant understanding. "…So it's not about her."
Michonne gave a rare half-smile. "No. It's about making sure his son doesn't lose another piece of family. That's all."
Elize sighed, shoulders easing. "I want to believe that."
Michonne nodded. "Then do. And if he slips? You'll know. Until then... don't punish him for caring."
---
Early Spring
The frost began to fade in March, the snow receding into soggy earth.
For the first time in months, the air smelled faintly of thawing grass instead of the usual frozen earth.
The prison yard transformed. Wooden frames hammered together became stables for animals.
Seeds scavenged from old farm supply stores planted carefully into tilled soil.
Maggie, Beth, and Hershell oversaw the work, guiding the younger ones... Sophia, Carl, and Clem.
Showing them the proper the was of planting tomatoes, beans, and cucumbers.
Joe and Daryl patched the last of the timber wall with fresh-cut logs, reinforcing what winter storms had weakened.
Glenn, with Mary at his side, repaired fences with scavenged wire.
Inside, laundry lines stretched through cleared hallwa. They had looted different colored curtains to add some color to the blank concrete wall.
The murals drawn by Sophia, Clem, and Taylor further brightened the dull gray walls.
Carl had seen this and decided to try painting different superheroes from his comic books along the walls. Some of the other boys helped him.
...
Amy, Andrea, and Lori carried their children just into their third trimesters, Emma slightly behind, at the end of her second trimester.
The womens steps were slower but steadier. Hershel checked on them weekly, his stern face softening each time he confirmed healthy growth.
Meals for them were nutritionally balanced. Soups thick with beans and dried vegetables, bread baked from scavenged flour, and even roasted deer from Daryl's hunts.
People left the table full, their cheeks flushed from warmth rather than fever.
The prison was still a cage. The world outside was still broken. But within those walls, under the thawing sun of early spring, something new was taking root.
Hope.
...
The morning sun broke weakly through a thin veil of clouds. The air still carried winter's chill, but the snow was mostly gone, leaving soggy earth underfoot.
Joe tightened the straps on his vest, checking the edge on his katana one last time. Daryl slung his crossbow across his back, a quiver of bolts rattling faintly.
Rick met them at the gate. "We need supplies for the kids. Diapers, bottles, clothes.... anything you can find. We can't just hope the babies make do with scraps."
Joe nodded. "We'll bring back what we can."
Daryl smirked faintly. "Never thought I'd be huntin' baby furniture in the apocalypse."
Joe gave a low chuckle. "Better that than diggin' graves."
They set out, boots crunching over thawing snow, cutting across the empty highway.
The silence was eerie, but both men moved like predators... watchful, careful, and never fully relaxed.
---
They hit the first town by noon. A small sprawl of shops, most with broken windows and doors hanging off their hinges.
"Pharmacy's picked clean," Daryl muttered, kicking aside empty pill bottles on the floor.
"Not surprised," Joe said, scanning the shelves. "People panic, they grab meds first." He paused, then smirked faintly. "Doubt they were fighting over pacifiers."
They searched the strip methodically. In run down buybuybaby, the shelves were mostly bare, but boxes of bottles and a few sealed packs of diapers remained tucked behind fallen displays. Joe crouched, brushing off dust.
"Still good," he said, tossing the bundle to Daryl.
"Smells like shit already," Daryl grunted, stuffing it into his pack.
Further in, they found a toppled crib. The wood was dented, but solid. Joe tested it, then looked at Daryl.
"Think you can carry that back?"
Daryl raised an eyebrow. "What the hell makes you think I'm haulin' it?"
Joe smirked. "Because you're built like a mule."
Daryl rolled his eyes but hoisted it onto his back with a grunt. "If I get bit 'cause I'm carryin' a baby crib, I'm hauntin' your ass."
---
In a half-collapsed thrift store, they gathered baby clothes. Tiny onesies, blankets, even a couple sets of little shoes that made Daryl snort.
Joe held up a faded pink stuffed rabbit he'd pulled from a shelf. Its ear was half chewed, but its button eyes still gleamed. "Think Clem will like this?"
Daryl gave a short laugh. "Hell, she'll probably love it. Kids don't care if it's ugly."
By the time they left town, their packs bulged with supplies. There were bottles, diapers, blankets, rattles, even a rocking chair Joe had insisted on getting.
Amy kept talking about how nice one would be, so he knew he had to grab it.
---
They returned to the prison late in the evening. The yard buzzed when people saw what they carried in.
Happy laughter, clapping, Amy wiping tears as she lifted the tiny clothes from Joe's pack.
Beth hugged the faded stuffed rabbit tight before handing it carefully to Clem, who squealed with delight.
Rick met Joe's eyes across the yard, nodding once. Not just thanks... for the supplies, for the future, for showing the group they were building something worth protecting.
Daryl muttered as he dropped the crib in a heap. "Next time, I'm pickin' the run. Ain't carryin' baby furniture again."
Joe smirked. "We'll see about that."
...
The prison was alive in a way it hadn't been in months.
The women had claimed one of the cleared rooms of Cellblock C for the nursery. The cracked gray walls had been scrubbed clean.
A row of small mattresses were laid out on the floor next to the only crib, and a bright patchwork quilt Andrea and Maggie stitched from scavenged fabric hung against the wall, giving the space warmth.
Amy, Andrea, Emma, and Lori moved carefully about, their growing bellies making them slower but no less determined.
Beth and Maggie hovered nearby with baskets of tiny clothes, folding each piece neatly. A slight longing on Maggie's face.
Clem and Sophia giggled as they fussed with baby toys, piling them in a corner chest.
The room felt almost… normal.
Rick stood with his arms crossed in the doorway, watching Lori from a distance, his expression unreadable.
Joe, meanwhile, stayed quiet in the corner, lips twitching with a secret he'd been sitting on for days.
---
That night, when the others were resting, Joe worked in the dimly lit workshop they'd carved out of an old maintenance room.
He'd been quietly hauling scrap wood from the yard for weeks, smoothing planks with whatever tools he could scavenge.
Piece by piece, he'd built them by hand. They were sturdy, a little simple, but filled with care.
By the time the second week of spring rolled around, he had three small cribs finished.
Each sanded smooth, lined with soft cloth Beth and Carol had sewn.
Alongside them sat three wooden baby carriers, padded with blankets.
They weren't store-bought perfect, but they were strong, functional, and crafted with love.
---
One afternoon, when the women were fussing over the nursery, Joe slipped out quietly and returned with the surprise.
Daryl and Glenn helped him haul the cribs down the corridor, grumbling as they maneuvered the bulky frames through the narrow halls.
"Y'know," Daryl muttered, "I said I wasn't haulin' baby furniture again."
Joe just smirked. "This time's different."
When the men carried the cribs into the nursery, the room fell silent.
Amy froze mid-fold, Andrea's mouth dropped open, Emma covered hers with both hands.
Lori blinked in shock, her pale face softening with something almost like peace.
Joe set the last crib down, next to the crib they found, wiping sawdust from his hands. "Figured the babies deserved something more than mattresses on the floor."
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Amy launched herself forward as best she could with her belly, throwing her arms around his neck.
Andrea followed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Emma hugged him from the side, whispering, "You… you made these?"
Joe nodded, a little embarrassed now that all eyes were on him. "Didn't have much else to do at night."
Amy's eyes shimmered. "They're perfect."
Andrea kissed him again, harder this time. Emma followed with her own, until all three women were laughing through tears.
Showering him with kisses and clumsy embraces, their swollen bellies bumping awkwardly between them.
Clem tugged at his sleeve with a bright smile. "They're really pretty, Joe."
Joe ruffled her hair, a smile cresting his face, "Thanks, sweetheart."
From the doorway, Daryl rolled his eyes. "Jesus. You're gonna drown in all that affection."
Glenn smirked, nudging him. "Guy builds a crib, gets more action than any of us."
Joe ignored them, still caught in the warmth of his wives clinging to him.
For once, the prison walls didn't feel like a cage. They felt like a home.
...
Word spread fast through Cellblock C. By evening, everyone had heard about the cribs.
When the dinner bell rang, really just an old metal pipe Carl clanged against the railing. People came together in the mess hall carrying bowls of stew and flatbread.
The smell of stir-fried veggies and boiled beans filled the air, warm and rich.
Clem ran ahead, dragging Sophia by the hand, both girls giggling about "the new baby beds." Carl rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile as he followed them.
The adults trickled in behind, tired but lighter than usual. Hershel walked slowly with Maggie on one side and Beth on the other, but his eyes carried pride.
Even Rick had a faint glimmer of relief in his expression as he took his seat, Elize close but not quite touching his arm.
Michonne at his other, she gave Joe a small nod of acknowledgment from across the table.
Amy, Andrea, and Emma sat proudly, hands resting on their rounded bellies. Their faces glowed with a happiness rare in this world.
Lori sat further down, pale but quietly smiling as Beth served her a plate.
Joe arrived last, dust still on his hands from checking the final bolts on the cribs.
His wives immediately made space for him, tugging him down between them.
Andrea kissed his cheek shamelessly, making Amy laugh and Emma blush.
When everyone had settled, Hershel stood shakily. "It's been a long winter," he said, his voice gravelly but steady.
"We've buried more than we've saved. But tonight, looking at what Joe built, at what we've built together… I know we're moving forward. We're not just surviving anymore. We're living."
The group fell quiet, the words sinking in. For a moment, the weight of loss hung in the air...
Beth began to sing softly, her voice filling the silence. Maggie joined her, their voices weaving together.
People began to eat, and laughter broke out in bursts. Glenn teasing Mary about her cooking, Daryl grumbling about carrying the cribs again while Carol smirked at him.
Clem proudly showing off the stuffed rabbit Joe had brought back.
The mess hall felt alive with warmth.
Joe sat back, watching it all... his wives chatting happily, Clem nibbling at her food with a smile, the others laughing like old friends around a family table.
For a man who had lived through endless war, the sight hit him harder than any battlefield ever had.
He murmured to himself, almost too quiet to hear, "Home."
Andrea leaned closer, catching the word. She squeezed his hand under the table and whispered back, "Yeah. Home."