(A/N: Shit. This story literally came to me as I was laying my head down for bed...at approximately 2 AM. I was down for less than 30 seconds, then immediately sat up and started writing. Forgive me if there is a severe lack of depth. I also have kind of a weird theme going here. It all stems from the idea that, like canned and dry food, resources would eventually deplete...like contraceptives. Leave me a review if you liked it!)
Three years into the apocalypse and supplies began to wear thin. They grew most of their own food, so the lack of canned and dry goods was something they could deal with. Books taught them to make their own butter, bread and simple dietary needs that one overlooked with the availability of grocers. Something few had anticipated...lack of contraceptives. For the young married couples who weren't ready to have children, it was an exercise in self-control. The group watched as husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, danced around each other, sexual frustration obviously getting the best of them. Jokes were passed back and forth at these couples' expense, but eventually it was known hormones would win-out. The population steadily grew.
For the older ones, like Daryl and Carol, things were...different. For one thing, no one in their right mind openly acknowledged that they had a sex life. It was common hat amongst the younger crowds to joke and tease about the sounds that would come out of cells at night. It was expected. But Daryl and Carol...everyone knew what they had went beyond physical desire. Glenn made one comment in passing. A simple glare from Daryl and that topic was as good as dead.
Condoms became like a black-market trading item, more valuable than cigarettes or booze. Carol and Daryl refused to enter into the bartering, the latter deciding they would fend for themselves and keep the entire prison population out of their business. He brought back what he could from runs, but soon enough, the local haunts were dry. Even when he'd decided to bite the bullet and maybe trade for them, Glenn informed him that the entire group was plum-out.
A month after they'd used their last condom, Carol missed her period. She was in her forties, though she wasn't exactly positive how far into them, she knew it was likely she was going through "the change". She chalked it up to that, keeping her mouth firmly shut. There was no reason to expect it was anything else.
Two months after they'd used their last condom, she thought she had flu. She prayed she was simply sick. She'd worked herself too hard...that was it. Lack of sleep and the tireless task of helping care for the prison's inhabitants were wearing her thin. She wasn't as young as she used to be. She just needed some rest. But now as her eyes drifted over Daryl as he cleaned his bow on the bed beside her, she wondered if she needed to speak up. Repeatedly, she opened her mouth to voice her concern, before snapping it shut and trying to focus on the book in her hands.
Three months after they'd used their last condom, she was feeling better. Carol smiled and pranced around the prison, everyone remarking on the glow to her features. Her cheeks were rosy, her smile bright and comforting. She felt full of love, always a sympathetic ear to anyone who needed it. And finally she had gained an appetite, placing a little more meat on her bones. At first she'd worried about the extra weight, but Daryl had shown her, in more ways than one, how much he enjoyed her curves. He even remarked on the swells of her breasts and how much they'd grown with her new form. At his comment, which he meant as a compliment, she forced a smile while her stomach churned.
Four months after they'd used their last condom, she officially couldn't button her pants. She sat on the flimsy bed she shared with Daryl sobbing, finally admitting to herself what she'd been denying for months. Three other women were with child in the compound. With each, Carol herself had been there herself to inform them of the risks and the process of child labor without the aid of pre-modern medicine. All of them knew that they could very well die in the process of labor. And those women were all half Carol's age. She was healthy and she was well-fed. Those things helped, but in the long-run, it really didn't matter. Panic set in.
Five months after they'd used their last condom and baggy sweaters were barely covering up the secret Carol had refused to reveal. She hadn't let Daryl touch her in weeks, even though every cell in her body wanted his skin against hers. He wasn't a stupid man. One look at her naked form and he'd know. She was going insane for his touch and she hated keeping anything from him. Her heart physically hurt, until she just broke.
One evening, she requested a watch shift with him at the guard tower. Summoning up every ounce of strength she still had, she lifted her shirt to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." Daryl's eyes grew wide as saucers, flitting between her tear-streaked face and the bump that was quite visible. She half expected him to walk away, disappear into the woods and never look at her again. She wouldn't have blamed him. Instead, as she cried, he held her. He was angry. Oh, he let her know every day for weeks, but he never left.
Six months after they'd used their last condom, Carol officially felt like a whale. She couldn't believe she still had three more months of this shit. For the first time during the pregnancy, people were openly acknowledging that she was carrying a child. Many had suspected. Throughout the winter, her baggy clothes and large sweaters were perfectly acceptable and great at hiding the bump, even if that was getting increasingly difficult. Then the sun began bearing down on them and it was officially time to ditch the sweaters. So, on what she assumed was her first day of the third trimester, she revealed her bulging stomach. Many of the group were quite supportive, especially those already pregnant. Even more people looked at her like she was a walking time bomb, a walker waiting to rise. Daryl told her to ignore them, but she didn't have the heart to tell him she agreed with them.
Seven months after they'd used their last condom and Daryl was three days late coming back from what was supposed to be the last run for the baby. He was dead-set on getting everything Carol and his child might need before it got there, making up for the lost time she'd kept from him. He'd had her make a list of anything and everything she could possibly want, promising he'd get most of it done. The anxiety that had been plaguing her all week reached a crescendo. She sat in her cell, unable to keep down any food or water. Someone stayed with her at all moments, waiting and praying for word that Daryl was home.
When the truck appeared on the path, Rick immediately summoned her. As Daryl stepped from the vehicle, battered and bruised, Carol didn't pause for greeting. She wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the fact that they were in public and they'd never had this much contact in front of others. If Daryl noticed the staring of their peers, he made no acknowledgment, his lips seeking hers immediately. As soon as she felt his kiss, Carol felt her exhausted and hormonal body relax. Without a word, Daryl signaled Tyrese to take care of the truck and it's contents. With an arm swung around his woman, he entered the compound for some much needed rest.
Eight months after they'd used their last condom, Carol began to cramp and bleed. It was too soon. Early labor? She showed Daryl, who ran out of the cell...coming back moments later with a hobbling Hershel in tow, who was only able to say that she wasn't in labor. Thus began the month of bed-rest. Carol was unused to doing absolutely nothing. Since her marriage with Ed, and then the apocalypse, she was accustomed to having someone to take care of and it had always been a full-time job. This was the first time in over a decade, she had sat in the same spot awake for more than a few hours. Even when ill, she managed to find plenty of work that could be done.
Keeping her happy became Daryl's main priority. He spent as much time with her as possible, only ever venturing outside the compound for a couple hours at a time, just in case. They read together, talked, and sometimes only sat in a companionable silence. After an hour of arguing, he'd allowed her to fold laundry as she lay in bed, as long as she didn't get up or move the basket herself. Every morning, Daryl took the risk of wheeling her outside to get some fresh air, before taking her to the library for lessons with the children. She got two hours outside of her cell before she was grudgingly taken back.
9 months after they'd used their last condom and Carol was more than ready to have this child and call it a year. As much as she feared childbirth, for not only herself, but Baby Dixon, she just needed this to be over with. She felt useless and lifeless without full range of motion. In this day and age, there was no time to be layed up in bed. Things had to be done, people to take care of. ...And she was more than eager to meet the new addition to her life. The entire gestation had been drama, conflict and tears, but she knew that as soon as she held that little life, the little image of Daryl...it would all be worth it. "Alright now, time for you to make your appearance little one. Get it movin' in there," she whispered to her stomach, eliciting a chuckle from Daryl, who simply rubbed the swell.
The contractions began not two hours afterwords. "Little shit knew what you was askin'" Daryl joked with her, grabbing her hand as she worked through another pain. She smiled at him, nearly breaking his fingers as she squeezed.
For over 24 hours, Daryl remained at her side, until finally...his son was born. A slightly squirming bundle was placed in her arms. "Beautiful healthy boy. After you've seen him, Beth'll clean him up," Hershel said smiling.
After a few tears and a moment, Carol wavered. "Daryl, hold him," Carol said in a quiet and raspy voice. For a moment, the new father looked panicked. Carol gave a strained smile. "You won't hurt him, Daryl. I need you to...I feel a little– " Before she could finish her sentence, her eyes began to roll back and her arms started to slacken. Daryl swooped his son away, taking care to support him well before rushing back to Carol who had fallen back against the bed.
"Carol!" He shouted using his free hand to shake her slightly.
"Daryl!" Hershel's voice sounded from beside him. In a daze, the new father ignored him. Eyebrows furrowed, worry setting into his bones, he focused on his woman. "Daryl!" the older man shouted once again, this time clapping a hand on Daryl's shoulder. The hunter recognized Hershel's presence, looking to him. "Take your boy to Beth, son and send me Maggie," he said calmly, grabbing instruments from the table next to him. Daryl was reluctant to leave Carol's side. "Go!"
At the commanding force behind his voice, Daryl shuffled his feet to the door, pausing before he exited. "Please, Hershel..." he said quietly.
"I know, son," the man replied immediately, nodding his head. "I'll take care of her."
Outside, Beth waited, smiling when she saw Daryl emerge with his newborn. "Get Maggie," He told her, conveying his feelings in his tone. Beth gave a simple nod, turning away to fetch her sister. As soon as he was alone, it dawned on him that he was holding his son. With a squint, he inspected the tiny face. Through his worry and through his grief over the situation, he focused on the life in front of him. The life that he'd helped create.
No matter what happened to Carol, she would want him to be here for...shit. They hadn't even decided on a name. The boy? Baby Dixon is what the prison population had taken to calling him. A rough, calloused finger stroked a tiny, grimy cheek, the baby giving a little squirm and cry at the contact. "Yer a fighter...just like yer ma. She'll be alright," he spoke to his son. He didn't fool himself into believing the baby could understand him, but standing alone with these thoughts...he needed the reassurance himself.
10 months after they used their last condom...and a squirming baby boy was passed around the crowd once again. "Oh come on, I didn't get a turn!" a woman's voice called from the group. Daryl's protective eyes trailed and watched as his son was passed to her arms. No matter the horrors they faced, a baby was always a welcome distraction. The second newborn of the year, Conner Dixon was a hit amongst the group.
"Alrighty y'all, but it's little man's feeding time," a soft voice from the doorway said.
"Awwww, can't we just have five more minutes?" Beth cooed.
"Tell you what, after I feed him, you can have him for the rest of the afternoon," Carol responded with a laugh. The woman holding her immediately relinquished the child to his mother.
As Carol sat in their cell to feed Conner, Daryl came up beside her, placing a hand on her leg and rubbing it softly. "You know, I love ya woman?" he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.
"Of course I do Daryl," she smiled touched he'd said the words, but really not needing them. Daryl shifted, clearing his throat as if he was getting uncomfortable. "Ya know, if you really love me, you'd grow a pair of boobs and take care of his mealtimes." She paused to gauge his reaction.
As he processed what she said, he let out a laugh, leaning forward and kissing her lightly on the lips. Their family was not standard by any means, but who's was post-zombie-apocalypse?
(A/N: Ok, something I wanted to point out. There is little joy about the child, especially in the beginning. Based on the show, we know Carol has become a little colder and more reserved basing her decisions on what's best for the group. Initially, she DOES NOT see this pregnancy as a blessing, but a danger and a hindrance. As time moves forward, her mind changes and she feels that connection with her child, but up until that point, I believe she'd caper her excitement.)