Chapter 37: The Deep End

"Stop," Carol laughed, as Daryl's hands moved down her waist and over her hips.

"What?" he asked, pressing into her from behind as he moved his hands back up slowly until he was running them down the lengths of her arms.

"What?" Carol snorted. "You expect me to concentrate with you grabbing me like that?"

"Just helpin' ya with your aim," Daryl offered.

"Please. I'm a better shot than you," she laughed.

"With a gun, maybe, but this is new. I got more experience with a bow."

"Mr. Crossbow," Carol grinned, "this is a traditional longbow. It's a whole different weapon. Elegant."

"You sayin' somethin' bout my crossbow?" Daryl asked, as Carol pulled her hand back, anchoring her hand just next to her chin. She focused then, before releasing the bow toward the intended target, an old tree stump several yards away. She released, and the arrow hit the mark beautifully.

"No, I just like this one better," Carol offered with a smile, turning and wiggling her eyebrows at him teasingly. "It's not as heavy as the crossbow. I like it."

"Good. You got your practice in. Let's get back home."

"Practice? Daryl, I shot a tree stump."

"Don't like you bein' out here so much," Daryl said quietly. "I worry 'bout you and the baby."

"I'm pregnant, Daryl. I haven't forgotten how to take care of myself."

"I know," Daryl said quietly.

"Besides, I want to be prepared for anything." She placed her hand on her stomach. She was starting to show. Her first official appointment with Denise had revealed she was already twelve weeks pregnant. That was a month ago. She was already beginning to feel little flutters from time to time. And in that month's time, the slight swell of her belly was now unmistakably round. There was no hiding it. She was noticeably pregnant. "Remember, I almost gave birth to Luke out in the woods."

"Yeah, and that's why I'm keepin' my eye on you."

"I was craving rabbit."

"I woulda got you ten rabbits," Daryl countered. "You were just impatient."

"I was hungry. Ravenous," Carol laughed. "And it worked out in the end. We got home, and Luke was born, and everything was fine. But I won't go off hunting rabbits again. I promise." Daryl eyed her for a moment, and she leaned forward and kissed him. "I know you're just worried. Thank you, but I can take care of myself."

"I know ya can. Probably better than anybody else 'round here." He pulled her into a hug. He leaned his forehead against hers, and he felt her belly nudge into him. He grinned.

"What?"

"Nothin'. You're the prettiest pregnant girl I ever saw."

"Girl? Oh, Daryl Dixon, I do believe you're flirting with me." She batted her eyelashes. "When we get home and I put up my feet and feel the aches and pains, I'll feel every bit of forty-five and pregnant. I haven't felt like a girl since…" Daryl chuckled then, and he kissed her quiet. She giggled against his kiss. Maybe she didn't feel like the girl she'd once been, but he certainly knew how to make her feel like a woman.

"C'mon. I'll take you home and give you a good rub down."

"Oooh, a massage?" Carol sighed. Daryl smirked.

"Not what I had in mind, but sure, we'll start there."

"Oh, I like where this is going." They started walking off toward the road where Daryl had parked the pickup. They'd been out on a quick supply run and had stopped off for a little target practice. Carol's new weapon was quickly becoming more like a hobby. She'd started playing around with it a couple of weeks ago, and she was already an almost expert shot. She practiced in the backyard, she practiced at the gates, aiming for random walkers passing by. She'd gotten good fast, and she was learning to be efficient with it and work around her growing belly.

It had been just over a month since Lucy died, and Carol could count on both hands the number of times she'd woken up to finding Henry had snuck into their home and curled up asleep on the couch downstairs with Dog. Daryl would always walk him home, and Negan was growing increasingly frustrated with his son for his antics. It broke Carol's heart to see them both so lost.

They made it back to the truck and started off toward home. Carol smiled when Daryl reached for her hand. It was something they did. Whether they were sitting in the living room watching the children play or sitting on the porch at night, he always found her hand. His thumb traced over her knuckles, and she closed her eyes, relishing the quiet moment, thankful that they had, at least, the promise of tonight.

"Have you talked to him?" Carol asked quietly after a few minutes. He didn't even have to ask. He knew.

"Other than takin' Henry back over this mornin', no. He don't talk. Just goes out there, takin' all his anger out on the walkers with that damned bat. Swear I think he sees David every time he puts one of them things down. It's good for the group, not havin' so many of 'em outside the gates. But he's gonna get himself hurt."

"Maybe we should offer to take Henry for a few days. I know we've offered before, but I think maybe they could both use a break. They're both grieving. We could let Lydia and Henry have a little camp out in the backyard, maybe."

"I'll talk to him about it tomorrow," Daryl said with a little nod. "I know what he's gonna say, though."

"We can try. Honestly, I know Negan loves Henry, but Henry was so close to his mom. The worst feeling in the world is losing the one person who means the world to you." Daryl gave her hand a squeeze. "But if anybody knows you can survive it and even be happy again, it's me."

...

Negan and Henry sat at the table, each with an almost untouched bowl of soup in front of them. Henry rested with his elbow on the table, arm propping his head up as he sighed and looked forlornly at the food in front of him..

"Eat," Negan urged.

"You're not," Henry murmured. "Why do I have to?"

"'Cause I'm your dad, and I said so." Henry sighed and took a bite of his biscuit before tasting the soup. He put the spoon back down in the bowl. "What? No good."

"Tastes funny."

"You always liked it."

"Mommy makes it better," Henry replied, leveling a gaze at his father that was filled with both anger and sadness. Negan felt it cut right through him like a knife in the belly.

"Look," Negan started, pushing back in his chair with both hands on the table. "I know you miss her. I miss her, too. But she's gone, son. She's not comin' back. I'm sorry, but she's not." Henry's lower lip quivered, and he slid out of his chair and sprinted for the door. "Henry!" In an instant, Henry was rushing up the stairs, and the next thing Negan heard was the door slamming. Moments later, he could hear the boy's cries.

With a heavy groan, Negan got up from his chair and started clearing the table. When he was finished with the dishes. As he cleared and washed, he thought about how excited Lucy had been when she found out she was pregnant. Despite the world going to shit all around them, he could still remember the wide smile that spread across her face. Henry has been the little beacon of hope that had kept her going.

He remembered being scared shitless. He would lie awake at night, listening to the sounds of walkers clawing and groaning as they tried to get into whatever shelter he and Lucy had found for the night. He remembered being angry sometimes, laying there in a cold sweat, wondering how he was going to protect an innocent life. They'd tried for so long to get pregnant, and when it finally happened, it was when the dead were at the top of the food chain, and a single cry from an infant could be a death sentence.

The bigger Lucy's belly grew, the more terrified he became, because he knew, when it came down to it, if she didn't die giving birth, she probably wouldn't last long unless they found someplace safe and secure. And then she'd been bit, and he'd expected her to die. But she hadn't. And, miraculously ,Henry hadn't. And he came along and was healthy and perfect, and despite almost dying, Lucy got better, and as soon as she was able, she was doting on Henry like she was born for it. He would watch in amazement as she seemed to react to each of Henry's cries as if she knew exactly what he needed. She was an amazing mom, and he always felt so lost in caring for the boy. He loved him, but he had never expected to be anyone's father. Hell, he'd never expected to be anyone's husband, but then Lucy came along and all of his ideas about his life and future had gone right out the window.

She was the only woman he'd never willingly made a fool of himself for. And he would have given her everything. So, when she wanted a baby the first time around, he was willing to give her that to make her happy. Until the end. The biggest regret he'd carry to his grave was that the last conversation he had with his wife before she died was an argument.

He finished cleaning up and headed upstairs. He tried not to focus on the faded stains along the stair steps where Lydia and Tara had scrubbed away the blood. Even if the stains faded more over time, he'd still remember. Every moment of that awful day seemed to be ingrained in his memory like a high definition video playing on a loop.

He peeked into Henry's room. It was quiet, and he could see the boy curled up under his blankets, his dirty blonde hair messy against the pillow. He stepped inside for a moment, staring down at the boy as he slept, and he felt a lump form in his throat.

"I'm in the deep end here, buddy, and I don't have a clue how to swim. But, I promise you, I'm gonna make sure I do what's best for you, what keeps you safe. It's what your mom would want."

Author's Note: Please let me know what you think! Feedback is so very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!