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Judith knows many things. She knows her ABC's, she knows how to count to one-hundred, and she even knows how to spell her name. She knows that her family loves her, and she loves them. She knows where Bob hides his candies, even when he swears he doesn't have any more. She knows that, no matter how many times Daddy tells Papa to stop bringing her presents, he'll keep doing it. She knows lots of things, but the most important is to never, ever touch the weapons. At least not until she's older.
It's an accident; Judith is trying to reach the top shelf. She wants the green mug with the chip in it because it's her favorite, and she knows she's not supposed to climb things anymore after she fell and hurt her arm last time, but it's not far. Nobody will know she's been climbing again.
She spots Papa's bow sitting on the highest shelf, remembers how he had been trying to teach Carl how to shoot it yesterday. She knows she's not supposed to touch it, but it's blocking her mug. She glances over her shoulder, double checking that no one is around, and carefully picks the bow up. She only wants to move it a little, but it's a lot heavier than she thought and it slips from her fingers, crashing into the floor with a loud crack. Her blue eyes widen when it snaps in two, and she softly says, "Oh no."
As quickly as she can, Judith scrambles off the counter she's standing on, crouching down next to the broken bow. Her eyes fill with tears as she studies the pieces, her trembling fingers hovering over the weapon. This isn't good. Daddy and Papa made it clear she wasn't supposed to touch the weapons, but she touched one of the weapons and it broke. They are going to hate her. Everyone is going to hate her and probably make her go live with the mean walkers outside of the gate.
A small sob breaks free from her lips, a single tear trailing down her face. She quickly wipes it away when she hears footsteps approaching, pushing herself to her feet and racing out of the kitchen from another doorway. She doesn't know how long she runs, but eventually Judith finds herself in a dark, smelly part of the prison. She backs into the wall, sliding to the floor, and starts to cry.
Daryl has found, in the months they've been together, that Rick is a dirty, filthy blanket thief. He hoards the covers like Smaug hoarded treasure in The Hobbit, and Daryl has taken to calling Rick 'Blanket Smaug' in his head. It doesn't bother the archer, in fact it's downright adorable the way Rick tangles himself up in the blankets and sleepily swats Daryl's hands away every time he tries to steal the covers back.
They're both far too big for the little bed, and most of the time someone's elbow ends up somewhere unwanted, but they make it work. Right now, Daryl is on his side, head propped up by his right elbow, watching Rick. The ex-lawman is on his back, mouth partially open, snoring softly, wrapped tightly in his blanket cocoon. He needs a haircut, Daryl having offered to cut it several times, but Rick has vehemently refused each time. He said he'd cut his own hair when he's ready, and it's taking everything the archer has not to tackle the ex-lawman to the ground, sit on him, and attack his hair with scissors.
"Stop plotting against my hair," Rick mutters, his eyes still closed.
"Wasn't," the hunter grunts, but he can't quite keep the smile off his face.
"Bull." Rick opens his eyes, giving him a playful scowl. "Your hair ain't any better than mine."
"Mine ain't never gotten tangled in a tree neither," Daryl retorts fiddling with one of Rick's curls. "This here is a danger to plant life everywhere."
"You're a real comedian, Daryl Dixon." The hunter smirks, leaning down to press a soft, chaste kiss to the other man's lips.
"Hey Dad, Daryl." They break apart when Carl enters Rick and Daryl's cell, turning to see the younger man standing in the entryway. He looks worried, something both Daryl and Rick notice immediately, and the two sit up. "Have you seen Judith?"
"Why?" Daryl feels something cold and dark slither into his stomach, but he pushes it back. This isn't the same as Sophia, Judith is probably somewhere in the prison with Carol or Beth. She could also be sneaking candy from Bob's cell. There is nothing to worry about, Daryl is just being paranoid.
"She's not in her cell, no one has seen her since last night," Carl starts before holding up Daryl's broken bow, "and I found this in the kitchen."
"We should split up," Carl suggests to the group and the others murmur in agreement. "Alright, Carol, Beth go check the east wing, make sure she hasn't locked herself in the library again." The two women nod before rushing out of the room. "Bob, Michonne check the west wing. Glenn, Tyreese check outside, make sure she's not hiding in the guard tower again. Maggie, you and I will check the cell blocks we don't use." Carl turns to his father, the man not having said a word since he showed him Daryl's broken bow. "Dad, you stay here just in case she comes back."
Rick doesn't acknowledge Carl, his eyes on the stuffed dragon he has in his hands, and the younger man isn't even sure his father heard him. He wishes Daryl were here, the hunter knowing how to get through to Rick better than Carl ever could, but the archer had gone off to track Judith on his own and hasn't returned yet. If anyone can find Judith, it'll be Daryl, but Carl still can't stop himself from remembering what happened to Sophia.
No, he tells himself as he and Maggie head towards the unused cell blocks, clapping his dad on the shoulder as he passes him, Jude is not gonna end up like Sophia. She's gonna be just fine.
"We'll find her," Maggie says quietly, clutching at Carl's hand.
"I know," he replies squeezing her fingers before releasing her. "C'mon, let's go."
"Judith," Daryl calls as he heads deeper into the basement. "Judith, are ya down here." His heart is slamming against his chest, his stomach bubbling with worry and fear. He keeps flashing back to another time, another little girl. He recalls how Sophia came stumbling out of Hershel's barn, hearing Carol screaming her daughter's name, how he had held her back as Rick put a bullet into..
"Stop it," he hisses at himself. Judith is fine, he's just jumping to conclusions. "Judith," he says a little louder. "Judith, if yer down here, I ain't mad, alright sweetheart. Yer Daddy and me, we ain't mad atcha, okay? It was an accident."
He hears a shuffle to his immediate left and a small voice whisper, "I just wanted the green mug."
Daryl's turns towards Judith's voice, forcing tears back as he kneels. She races towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, muttering apologies into his chest. He runs his fingers through her dark hair, tightening his hold on her, kissing the top of her head.
Eventually he drags himself to his feet, carrying Judith out of the basement. Her head rests on his shoulder, her arms still wrapped around his neck, and she nods when he asks if she's okay. They silently head back towards the mess hall, Judith still too upset to say anything and Daryl afraid that if he opens his mouth he'll burst into tears. When he steps through the door, Rick looks up from his position against the wall.
He's on his feet and across the room before Daryl has a chance to blink. Judith practically jumps into Rick's arms, and the ex-lawman clings to his daughter like she's been missing for days instead of a few hours. Daryl feels like he's intruding on their moment and very nearly retreats to the corner of the room, but one of Rick's arms darts out and pulls the archer into an unsuspecting hug.
"You found her," Rick says in Daryl's ear, "you found our daughter."
Judith had been referring to Daryl as Papa since the archer and Rick told everyone about their relationship, had made the conscious decision herself without any outside influences, but no one had ever outright said Daryl was her second father. It had been implied, and he saw the fond smiles on everyone faces when Judith called him Papa, but to have someone say it outloud, and for that person to be Rick, it left the hunter a little overwhelmed. But in a totally good way.
Before the outbreak, he never thought he'd have any kids. Not when he had been forced to hide who he was from his family, and he sure as hell wasn't going to bring a kid around his father, but now he's free to be with whoever he wants, to love whoever he wants, and if loving Rick Grimes meant he became the guy's kids' second father then Judith could call him whatever the hell she pleased.