Chapter 56 - Ella

Evening crept in faster than I would've liked. Still no sign of Daryl.

The prisoners Jesus brought back from the Savior outpost sat huddled outside the Hilltop's walls, watched closely by his team. Ian had been on edge all afternoon, his hand glued to the hilt of his knife. He hadn't said much, just paced, eyes sharp, twitchy. He was waiting for something—anything—to go wrong.

Maggie wasn't any calmer. Word had gotten to her that Jesus had fed the prisoners, and she wasn't having it. She stormed out past the gates, yelling at him for being soft. We had only two days left in the plan. Two days of waiting to starve the Saviors out. She wasn't going to risk it falling apart now.

I stood near the edge of the yard, rocking Ruby on my hip, watching the sun start to dip below the trees when a car rolled up and parked just outside the gates. I caught a glimpse of Aaron before the horn even stopped.

He climbed out slowly, holding something bundled tight in a pink blanket. His eyes were rimmed red, face pale with grief.

"Rick found her at the outpost," Aaron said softly, stepping up to me. "Daryl said you're still breastfeeding. Thought maybe you'd have bottles for her."

"I used the last of the bottles this week," I said, shifting Ruby in my arms. "But I can feed her." I looked over at Ian. "Baby, can you hold Ruby for me?"

Ian finally loosened his grip on his knife and stepped forward. He took Ruby carefully, one arm around her back, the other under her diapered bottom. He didn't say a word—just held her like something precious.

"You can give her to Aaron now," I told him gently.

But Ian shook his head. "I've got her."

There was a little bit of twang in his voice—thicker than usual. He was starting to sound more and more like Daryl with every passing day.

I nodded, smiling at my son. Then I turned and took the tiny bundle from Aaron. The baby stirred against me, nose nuzzling instinctively. "Let's get her fed," I murmured. "Then we'll head back to Alexandria and wait for Rick. Daryl's probably already there by now." I peeked into the car behind Aaron, expecting to see Eric.

"Where's—"

"He's gone," Aaron choked out.

My heart cracked in half. "Oh, Aaron," I whispered, reaching for his hand. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded, swallowing back another sob. "He's gone."

I didn't let go of his hand. Just kept hold as I led him toward my trailer. Inside, the familiar warmth of home wrapped around us. Ian sat on the floor with Ruby, letting her crawl over his legs while he stayed perfectly still, watching her with gentle eyes.

I settled into my chair and lifted my shirt, tugging my bra aside to feed the baby. She latched immediately, desperate and hungry. My heart squeezed.

"Do we know how old she is? Or her name?" I asked, glancing at Aaron as he dropped into one of the chairs by the table, shoulders hunched.

"Gracie," he said. "That's all we know. There was no sign of a mother. If she was there... she probably didn't make it."

I winced, glancing down at the little girl in my arms. "Well, I can feed her for a while yet. It's safe to breastfeed while I'm pregnant, and Ruby's almost a year now. Once this baby comes, I'll start all over again anyway. But for now, I can feed her, and we can freeze some for her too." I looked at him carefully. "It'll be hard—three babies under one roof—but..."

"What do you mean?" Aaron asked, his voice brittle.

"What do I mean?" I blinked. "You brought her to me. I assumed that meant... you wanted us to take her in."

He shook his head. "Oh."

I looked at him again, more carefully this time. "Unless you planned to raise her yourself? You and Eric wanted kids. This could be your chance."

Aaron winced, staring down at his hands. "It would make more sense for you and Daryl. You already have everything she needs."

I gave a soft laugh. "Well, yeah, I won't argue that I've got the supply." I glanced down at Gracie, nursing peacefully. "I've been a walking dairy cow since Ruby was born. But just because I can doesn't mean I should. If you want her, Aaron—if you want to be a parent—I'll help you. We'll support you. I'll pump for her, nurse her, we can try to scavenge non-expired formula or get her on solids early. Whatever you decide, I've got your back."

Aaron's voice cracked. "It feels like I'm betraying him. Raising a child now, when he's gone. When he'll never get to be part of it."

"I know," I whispered. "But this—this could be a blessing. She's not a replacement. She's just... love. Something new. Something you can still build."

Aaron folded in on himself, his elbows on his knees, hands over his face.

I reached out and pulled him into a one-armed hug, Gracie still nestled against me. "I know, honey. I know. But like I said... whatever you decide, we'll be here. You don't have to do this alone."

Aaron sat with his elbows braced on the table, his face drawn and pale, his eyes red-rimmed from grief.

"I'm sorry if I'm putting too much on you," he said quietly, not looking at me. "Would you teach me? How to take care of her, I mean. I just... Eric was always the one who watched Ian and Ruby when you and Daryl had to run. He just knew what to do. I don't. Not like that."

"You don't have to apologize," I murmured, brushing Gracie's downy hair with my palm. "You want to learn. That's all it takes."

Aaron swallowed hard, his throat working. "I want to learn."

"Good." I smiled gently. "Then come here. It's time we start."

He stood, hesitating beside the couch. I adjusted Gracie in my arms as she finished feeding, and I nodded to the small pile of cloth beside the basin near the stove.

"We don't have disposables, not anymore," I explained softly. "So we use cloth diapers. These strips here—" I picked up a stack of pale linen, soft and worn from use, "—we soak 'em in water and use them like wipes. Sometimes with a little soap if we're really lucky."

Aaron came closer, watching my hands carefully.

I laid Gracie on the folded blanket and began unfastening the safety pins at her sides. "You fold the diaper like this—tri-fold, tucks under her bottom—and pin it just snug enough to stay put." I worked as I spoke, each motion careful and deliberate. "Always wipe front to back, especially with girls. You'll get the hang of it."

Aaron nodded, kneeling beside me, his eyes on Gracie's tiny body, the curve of her belly, the stretch of her fingers as she stirred. His breath hitched again, but he kept watching, absorbing every movement.

I handed him the clean diaper. "Your turn."

He blinked. "I... okay. Yeah."

His hands shook a little, but I didn't correct him. I just stayed beside him, talking him through it.

"You're doing great," I murmured. "Lift her gently, tuck it under—good. Now pin... there. See? She's not crying. That's a win."

Aaron let out a shaky breath that turned into something like a laugh. "Okay. Okay. That wasn't as hard as I thought."

I smiled, wrapping Gracie in a blanket. "Baths are the next beast."

His eyes widened.

"She's still small, so a sponge bath works fine," I said. "You just need warm water, a cloth, and steady hands. You want to try?"

He nodded, and together we bathed her—his hands clumsy but tender, mine guiding without hovering. When Gracie fussed, I showed him how to hold her against his chest, how to sway and hum and whisper nonsense in a soft, steady voice.

"She doesn't care what you say," I told him with a faint smile. "She just wants to hear you."

Aaron rocked slowly, murmuring to her in a voice rough with emotion. "She's so small," he whispered. "God, she's so small."

"She is." I touched his arm. "But you're already holding her just right."

We sat on the couch once Gracie was dry and swaddled, nestled against Aaron's chest as she drifted off again. He stared down at her with that same stunned, grieving awe, like he couldn't believe she was real.

He was quiet a long time before he finally spoke.

"I want to keep her," he said, voice trembling. "I want her to be mine. Even if it hurts. Even if it's too soon."

I looked up at him, his arms around Gracie, tears slipping down his cheeks unchecked.

"She's yours," I whispered. "You don't have to prove anything. You love her already. That's more than enough."

Aaron nodded, jaw tight, eyes bright. "I'll do it. I'll take care of her. For Eric. For her. For me."

And for the first time since he walked through the gates, Aaron smiled. It was small, and it didn't reach his eyes. But it was real.

And it was a start.

~

I started packing at dusk.

The kids were worn out, Ruby fast asleep on the cot with her arms flung wide, her curls sticking to her forehead. Ian sat on the floor with a bit of twine and his little blade, trying to carve a crooked feather into the stick he'd found. I'd already packed a spare blanket, a half-empty bottle of water, and the last two cloth diapers I had left clean. I'd need to wash more when I got home.

Alexandria.

The word felt like a balm. Like safety. Like Daryl.

God, I needed to see his face. Just to touch his arm and know he was still in one piece. I didn't even care if he smelled like dirt and blood and motor oil. I just wanted to bury my face into his chest and hear him breathe.

I had Ruby's bag half-zipped when Maggie knocked on the frame of the open trailer door.

"You heading out?" she asked gently, stepping inside.

"I was gonna try and leave before nightfall. It's not far." I gave a half-smile. "We've got a few extra hands on the walls, right?"

Maggie nodded. "We do. But... I was hoping you might stay."

I paused, my hand still on the zipper.

"We're short on people," she continued. "Jesus is is insisting on keeping the Savior prisoners alive, but it's a mess. They're angry, scared. I trust you, Ella. You're level-headed. I could use someone like you right now."

I swallowed hard, torn. "Ian and Ruby—"

"They can stay with you. And you wouldn't be alone. Aaron's staying the night too."

I looked over at Ian, then at Ruby's peaceful face, and finally at Aaron sitting outside the trailer, holding Gracie like she was made of glass.

A lump formed in my throat. I nodded. "Okay. Just... let me write Daryl. He needs to know I'm not coming home tonight."

Maggie gave a small smile and squeezed my arm before heading out to call for a runner to take the message to Alexandria.

I sat down at the little table in the trailer, pulled out one of the scrap-paper notebooks we kept for supplies and scribbled a note, folding it carefully before handing it off to the messenger.

Daryl,

We're all safe. The kids are fine. Aaron brought the baby from the outpost — he decided to keep her, raise her himself.

Maggie asked me to stay behind tonight. She needs someone steady to help with the Savior prisoners. I told her yes.

Don't worry — I've got Ian and Ruby with me. We'll sleep here in the trailer.

Come find us when you can. Be safe.

I love you.

—Ella

By the time night fully settled over Hilltop, I was swaying on my feet but determined not to rest just yet.

Aaron sat at the edge of the Ian's bed, Gracie cradled in his arms, fussing now that she was awake again. Her tiny fists waved at the air, her lips rooting against his shirt.

"Here," I said softly, reaching for her. "Let me get her fed."

Aaron handed her off, his eyes full of apology and longing all at once. "I'm sorry—I still feel like I'm in over my head."

"You are," I said gently, "but that's parenting. Welcome to the club."

I fed Gracie while Ruby snuffled in her sleep on the bed beside me. Ian had dozed off near the door, his carving still clutched in one hand.

Once Gracie was done, I showed Aaron how to burp her, then how to check her diaper again.

"You'll want to rinse those out quick, get 'em soaking before they stink to high hell," I warned with a tired smile.

We moved slow, cleaning Gracie up, wrapping her again, rocking her until her little eyelids fluttered shut. Aaron held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and I could see the shift in his eyes — the fear still lingered, but so did something steadier.

Resolve.

"She's mine," he said finally, his voice low, trembling. "I don't know what I'm doing, but... she's mine."

I sat beside him, watching the firelight flicker outside through the window.

"You'll figure it out," I said. "We all do. And you're not alone."

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "Thank you."

I shook my head. "You don't have to thank me. I know what it feels like to lose everything. And I know what it feels like to find something worth holding onto."

Aaron blinked down at Gracie and then, slowly, leaned against my shoulder. We sat that way for a long time. Silent. Tired. Full of something like hope.

And as Gracie slept between us, her little breaths soft and steady, I sent another silent prayer out into the night.

Come home, Daryl.

Just come home.