That was the first word that came to Rick's mind as he gazed at his newborn son. Tiny.

They looted every place they could find in the previous months looking for clothes and diapers, bottles and blankets - anything they could get their hands on. But it was the end of the world and companies were no longer producing such things and so baby items - and everyday items in general, were hard, if not impossible to come by.

Onesies, Rick noted, they had been the hardest to find.

Every store they came across had been looted and destroyed. Either burned down or full of dead, rotting corpses, the smell so bad that it seeped into everything and so things such as clothes or blankets or socks were out of the question because even if they looked okay (and it was rare, because things were so dirty and broken, and riddled with stains of blood and goo) they smelt like death. Everything smelt like death, everything was death.

Except for his son.

So small and so tiny. He was life, brand new life, barely five hours old.

He could fit into both palms of Rick's hands and be perfectly content. Rick had joked about it, how something so small could come from someone who had eaten so much during her pregnancy.

They had been worried at first - both Rick and Andrea - asking Hershel a range of questions despite the man being a vet in his former life. But he assured them that it was fine, the baby was just small. And so their fears had been erased.

Rick stared down at the new life in his hands, one hand cupping his son's head and the other around his bottom. The onesie he wore was blue, about two sizes too big, but the little one didn't complain and Rick came back to that one word again; tiny.

"Dad?" Carl spoke quietly from the doorway. His voice was so deep now, so adult for a fifteen year old.

Careful not to disturb the baby or his sleeping mother, Rick turned slowly and nodded for Carl to enter. He did, with two year old Judith in tow. She was quiet, like Carl had asked, and smiled as she saw the small baby in her daddy's arms.

Never in a million years did Rick think he would gain two children from the apocalypse but he had never been so grateful that he had.

Carl was turning into a man, a great man capable of leading. He was fifteen but had already made some calls that Rick couldn't. Rick often feared the repercussions of Carl growing up in such a world, worrying for his son's development. But since settling down in a new town with more survivors, Carl was able to turn back into a kid and grow in the way he deserved.

And Judith, his little Judy, she was untouched by the death and the destruction that was now the world they knew. She was two years old with bright, hopeful eyes and brunette hair, a vision of Lori. She had no traces of Shane but no traces of Rick, either. It seemed that Lori's genes had been the prominent ones and in a way Rick was glad, because despite Judith being his daughter no matter what, he wasn't sure what he would have done if he had to look into her eyes each and every day and see Shane staring back.

"What do you think?" Rick asked quietly as he looked at Judith, watching the way her little eyes danced over the baby almost as if she was deciding what she thought of him.

"I like him," she replied quietly, mirroring her father's hushed tone. She reached out to touch him, her small finger touching his even smaller one. The baby's lips curled in a yawn and he made a soft noise that she recoiled her hand in fear that she had hurt him.

Rick chuckled, as did Carl, and he hoisted his little sister up to get a better look at the newborn.

"How's Andrea doing?" Carl asked his father, giving a quick glance to the blonde that slept on the bed a few feet away from them.

Rick smiled. "She's good," he answered. "A little tired, but she was a trooper."

The birth had been difficult, with no pain medications to help ease the pain. And it had been long too, about seventeen hours or so. But Andrea hadn't complained. Sure, she had cried with pain and Rick had bent down, his face by hers as he whispered reassuring words, but she had never complained. Not once.

She was a goddess in Rick's eyes.

Carl gave a nod, a small smile twisting onto his lips because he didn't expect anything less from the blonde. "Has he got a name yet?"

"Not yet," Rick murmured, his eyes yet again trailing over the tiny newborn, his son, who was content in his arms, in a state of being asleep and being awake.

"You got any suggestions?" He asked his children - Carl, who looked thoughtful and Judith, who was busy poking the baby in a curious way. "Careful," Rick reminded her and she pulled her hand back with a look that said she was sorry, but earned a kiss on her forehead from her daddy anyway.

A stir from across the room alerted Rick to Andrea's awakening. She sat up slowly, her blonde curls in disarray and a sleepy smile claimed her lips as she looked over at the four most important people in her life.

"What's all this?" She asked gently and the smile momentarily disappeared from her lips instead replaced with a wince as she moved somewhat, but as soon as she was comfortable, she dismissed Rick's concerned look - just a little pain from having given birth five hours before.

"Carl and Judy were just going to give their suggestions on a name," came Rick's reply.

"Oh," Andrea smiled, "and what have they come up with?"

Rick glanced to Carl and then to Judith, both Grimes' kids seemingly at a loss for words. He let out an amused laugh. "Really?" He asked them both. "You can't think of anything?"

"Felix?" Judith suggested with wide eyes.

"Sounds like a cat," Carl commented and Judith slouched in his arms with a heavy dramatic sigh.

Rick laughed yet again and his eyes found Andrea who was busy staring at Carl and Judith with a look of pure love and adoration.

"We should get going, we promised Carol we'd help her with dinner." Carl spoke moments later as he knew that Andrea and his dad should have some time alone with the baby.

Judith nodded enthusiastically and Rick smiled. "Alright then, I'll see you two later."

Carl gave Andrea a nod and Judith mirrored her brother with a proud smile. "Bye!" She grinned as they left the room.

Rick gave Andrea a look as soon as they had left, amusement clearly etched in his features.

"Hey, don't look at me, they're your kids," she pointed out.

Rick stood up, smiling. "That is true," he replied with a laugh in his voice. "But this little guy…"

"…is mine," Andrea finished for him, her arms reaching out for her little boy as Rick closed the distance between the chair and the bed.

She took the baby into her arms, the corners of her lips twitching upwards but not quite and her eyes closing for a moment as she exhaled in almost disbelief because she couldn't believe that something so small and perfect and beautiful was hers, was theirs.

She took in his smell first, that intoxicating newborn baby smell, with her nose pressed to his forehead as she smiled and then brushed her lips across his soft skin lovingly.

The baby nestled in her arms perfectly and she gazed up to see Rick looking at them both with a look that she hadn't seen before but sent a warm feeling through her entire body.

"Hey," she spoke softly.

"Hey," he replied evenly.

He moved to sit beside her and automatically wrapped his arm around her, a habit which he had learned was an instinct of his to bring her closer. She smiled and snuggled into his side, her head resting against his shoulder and his lips brushing against her head.

"He does need a name." Rick commented after so many minutes of just holding her, of holding them both.

Andrea sighed. Names had been a difficult thing.

At one point during her pregnancy Glenn had brought back a book of baby names from a supply run and at first she had been happy about it, but then, as she went through the list of names and saw that a lot of them belonged to people she had known and loved but who hadn't survived, she just got the feeling of dread. She didn't want to give her baby a dead man's name.

She supposed it was ridiculous because no one name was unique and any name she chose would tie back to someone or something, but the feeling was still there.

"What is it?" Rick asked, sensing something wasn't quite right.

Andrea sat up a little and shook her head as if she wasn't quite sure what was troubling her or how to word it. She stared down at her son, her heart full of love for him but full of fear too. Fear of the unknown and how at any moment their little family could be broken. She knew she shouldn't worry because the town was safe, they had lived there for over a year and it had only grown and flourished.

But Woodbury had been like that, too.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I want to give him a name with meaning. But every name with meaning is tied in with something awful."

Rick suddenly understood what was bothering her.

"Then we should give him a name that has meaning and doesn't have anything awful connected to it." Rick supplied.

Andrea's eyebrows furrowed. "Like what?"

There was a pause and Rick smiled.

"Harrison," he answered her.

Harrison, her last name.

"Harrison," she repeated, "I like it."

"As long as you don't mind him having the last name Grimes," Rick pointed out.

"Harrison Grimes." Andrea smiled.

"We can call him Harry."

"Is that your name?" She cooed down at the newborn who stared up at her through half lidded eyes.

Rick peered over Andrea's form at their son, pausing to rest his chin on her shoulder.

Harrison's face contorted visibly and within a few seconds he gave a loud, adorable sneeze that had both parents smiling.

"I think he likes it," Rick commented.

Andrea turned her head to the side, her nose brushing against Rick's cheek. "I love you."

Leaning in he pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips.

"I love you too."