AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

Some people may have missed that I posted a chapter yesterday. If that's the case, be sure that you go back and read it. It'll fill in some information for you!

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Carol followed behind Daryl as he located the toy aisle and spent a few moments among the toy cars and other vehicles. He made his selections—three small motorcycles that were, in some way, superior to the other motorcycles that he skipped over. He asked for Carol's input, and she smiled and nodded. She'd agree with whatever he wanted. This was his, and it was Sophia's. He wanted to do something special for Sophia, and the little girl was so looking forward to it that Carol wanted them all to be able to look back later and say that—no matter how it turned out—it was absolutely Daryl who had chosen every aspect of the little celebration.

When Daryl was satisfied with the toy selections, he made his way through the store picking up the other odds and ends that he wanted for the vision that he'd created in his mind. He dropped them into his blue, plastic basket and Carol followed behind him.

Her face was warm when she first noticed that people were staring at her.

They were three days past the attack. They'd take the first day to contact bikers all over the place and call for the gathering that was now coming together—most of the bikers, after all, had needed time to make arrangements for the trip and the time off of work that was necessary for those who weren't working in MC run businesses. And, even in the case of the shop, motel, and protection contracts they had in place, even the Judges needed time to figure out shifts that wouldn't cause them to lose any profits.

In those three days, their personal and private lives had been fairly quiet—all things considered. The man who had attacked Carol had not, to anyone's knowledge, returned to town. Teeter had been taken to the Greene farm where he had agreed, easily enough, to live with Hershel and Jo as long as they could see fit to get him to work on time. In Jo's common manner of dealing with Teeter, she'd happily agreed to his terms and promised everyone that she would create a "job" for Teeter that would keep him satisfied on the days that he woke needing to be useful and occupied.

During those three days, Andrea had come to their house after work, still dressed as a lawyer, and she'd delivered into Carol's hands the official documents that declared Carol free from Ed. She was no longer married to him, and he had signed away every right he had to Sophia. Carol had cried tears of happiness over those papers until Daryl had slipped them out of her hands to make sure that getting them soggy with salty tears didn't somehow nullify the information there. They were locked safely in a small safe that Daryl had hauled over from the trailer where the last of his things still waited for him to take them somewhere or dispose of them entirely.

And, in those three days, the bruising on Carol's face had changed colors a little each day. Her face hadn't bothered her. It hurt to touch it, but she was really used to such things. The bruising on her ribs was more uncomfortable than the bruising on her face. Still, what had kept Carol's attention—far more than either of those things—was the anxiety that she felt every time she went to the bathroom. She waited for spotting. Blood. The first signs that her body was rejecting her pregnancy. She waited for cramping. When she was alone, she could practically make herself tear up over the thought that it might come.

But it hadn't come. And Alice had swung by the house twice in two days just to give Carol a quick once over. She'd brought a portable fetal monitor to listen to the rapid heartbeat, and to assure Carol that the baby was, at this time, still simply hanging out—and they had no reason to believe that it would change its mind.

Carol had been so wrapped up in everything else that was going on in their lives that she'd almost forgotten what she must look like. She'd skipped mirrors as much as possible—this morning she hadn't even put on any make up, and she'd very delicately washed her face without turning on the bathroom light—and she'd forgotten that the people they saw in public would judge her. And, worse, they would judge Daryl.

That was what hurt her the most when, every now and again, she made accidental eye contact with someone who was staring, hard, at her face. They thought the man picking out random items for a little girl's special day would have done this to her.

Carol wanted to stand in the middle of the store and cry out to them all that Daryl hadn't—and he never would. But they'd never believe her. They'd believe that she was coerced into declaring his innocence—much as she had been with Ed—but they'd never believe her. And, like they had done with Ed—because all people were the same, even if their faces changed and the scenery changed—they wouldn't help her if he had. They would simply stare at her, whisper, and shake their heads.

Daryl didn't seem to notice, though, or he was simply oblivious to people's judgment at this point in his life. Carol was grateful for that. As long as their accusatory stares didn't hurt him, she was fine.

"You need somethin'?" He asked, snatching her out of her daydream.

"What?" She asked.

"Need somethin'?" Daryl asked. He held up his basket. "Gotta buy these 'fore we go to the bakery. You need somethin' while we're here?"

Carol's face was warm. She had been drifting along in thought—deeper thought than she realized. She was caught by surprise.

"I don't need anything for the house," she said. "But—I'd really like a doughnut."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Fresh doughnuts an' coffee to die for in the bakery," he said. "Let's get this an' we'll go over."

He smiled at her and, dropping his arm around her, he kissed the side of her face that wasn't bruised—the only safe side for now, clearly, in his opinion.

At the register, Carol avoided eye contact with the middle-aged man who was staring hard enough at her to bore holes into her skull. Daryl didn't seem to care. He watched the man ring up all of his prizes and pack them into a few bags. He counted out cash, paid the man, and accepted the change back before he gathered up the bags and directed Carol toward the bakery section.

The smells of the bakery section immediately had Carol's stomach growling. It was a bakery, but there was also a small coffee bar that sported at least four different kinds of coffee. Carol eyed them quickly and was pleased to find there was a decaf option so that she didn't accidentally overexcite the barely existent little one that, thanks to Alice, Daryl had begun to call "pea-baby."

"What all did you buy, Daryl?" Carol asked, holding onto his arm as he rummaged through his packed bags in search of what he wanted. He laughed to himself.

"You was right there when I bought it all," he said. "And when he rung it up."

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I'm—a little distracted. I can't seem to focus on anything."

"Low blood sugar," Daryl said, as though he had any way of knowing that for a fact. He sounded so authoritative about it that Carol might have believed him on principle. "We'll get you a coffee an' one of them good ole doughnuts an' you'll eat it in the truck. Feel better. Then I'll show you everything I got. Some stuff for Sophia and—some stuff for tellin' everybody at the meetin' tomorrow that we got us a lil' pea-baby on the way. Figure they better know as soon as we see 'em after we tell Soph, 'cause it ain't fair to ask her to keep that kinda secret. When we go to meet Kahuna today, I ain't gonna tell him. He'll find out at the meeting tomorrow."

Carol hummed her agreement and followed along with him as he went toward the counter with the toy motorcycles in his hand.

"Hey Daryl!" The old lady behind the counter said.

Daryl smiled warmly.

"Hey Faye!" He responded. "I ain't seen you in here for like—months. You lookin' beautiful as always. How's Robert an' the girls?"

The woman he'd called Faye laughed to herself.

"Robert's just as annoying as he's always been," she said with a laugh. "He's doing better, though. And the girls are hardly girls, Daryl. Annie got married to a boy she met at college. About two months ago. Surprised us all. She's moved up to Columbia now."

"Wow," Daryl mused. "And—what was the other one? Names…I ain't never been good at 'em."

"Kathy," Faye said. "My oldest. She's still in Liberty, Daryl. Lookin' to settle down. It wouldn't hurt you to settle down neither—if you want, I can give you her number."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You know you don't want no daughter of yours runnin' around with no good-for-nothin' like me," Daryl said. "Besides—I'm just about to settle in as deep as they get."

He gestured toward Carol and Carol saw the concerned look flit across Faye's face as she let her eyes settle on her.

"Honey, whatever happened to your face?" Faye asked, leaning on the counter.

"Drunk asshole," Daryl supplied when Carol hesitated, not sure what she could share. "Not me," Daryl said with a laugh. "Got her confused with some little tart he was messin' with in another state. I set him straight, but I got there late."

Faye laughed to herself and unwrapped a candy she drew from somewhere behind the counter. She popped it into her mouth before offering both Carol and Daryl one that they refused.

"I bet you did set him straight," Faye mused. "One of those—should see the other guy situations?"

Daryl laughed.

"He don't look too good," Daryl said. "Last I seen of him, at least. Run him outta there."

"Good," Faye said. "I heard Teeter was up at Jo's, but she didn't say anything about what's going on. This all related to him? The man you run outta here?"

"This?" Daryl asked.

"Don't play innocent with me," Faye said. "I've been busy all morning. All that leather's good for business. There's nothing they like more than a doughnut."

"That's just 'cause your doughnuts are so sweet, Faye," Daryl teased. He laughed to himself when she winked at him. Carol relaxed, too. The woman was about Jo's age and, clearly, she was a friend of Jo's. That also meant that she was at least something of a friend of the club. "Don't you worry, Faye. There ain't nothin' goin' on around here that needs to have anybody up in arms. And you can pass that around that you got it in good faith. Now—I come here to talk about your expertise as a baker."

"What can I help you with, honey?" Faye asked, half-leaning over her counter and rolling the hard candy around in her mouth.

"Cake," Daryl said. "Need one."

"Wedding?" Faye asked. She glanced at Carol. "You said you were—settling down."

"That's next weekend," Daryl said.

Faye smiled at Carol and let the smile trail back to Daryl.

"Congratulations," she said.

"Ain't gonna be formal, though. So, we ain't gonna need no formal cake for it. Jo's gonna bake somethin' simple," Daryl said. He put the bikes on the counter. "What I need is a special kinda cake."

"I specialize in special," Faye said with a croupy sort of laugh that suggested she'd been smoking heavily since somewhere around the nineteen forties. "What did you have in mind?"

"It's for our daughter," Daryl said. "She's five."

"I didn't know you had a little girl," Faye said.

"She's adopted," Carol said. "I mean—she's mine. Daryl's adopting her."

"If it's all the same to you, I don't never wanna lead with that," Daryl offered, a little sadly. "I just—she's my daughter and that's all the hell that anybody needs to know."

"Hey—I get it," Faye offered. "Congratulations at any rate. Since I missed it five years ago."

Carol couldn't help but smile to herself and Daryl smiled, too.

"Want these bikes on the cake," Daryl said. "Don't really know how to decorate it. Just—she likes purple and she loves the club. I was hopin' you could figure somethin' out."

"Flavors?" Faye asked.

"Traditional," Daryl said. "With that good sweet icing you got."

"I can do that," Faye said. "Birthday cake?"

"Big sister cake," Daryl said. "Want it to say 'big sister' on it in some way. Want her to find out special."

Faye raised her eyebrows.

"Congratulations again, I guess," she said with a laugh.

"Thanks," Daryl said. "But—don't tell nobody? We wanna tell Sophia first. Before we tell the family."

"Baker-customer confidentiality," Faye offered. "Sophia—just in case, that's with an 'f' or 'ph'?"

"It's 'ph'," Carol offered.

"I can do it," Faye said.

"By when?" Daryl asked.

Faye gathered up the bikes and shrugged.

"It'll need time to cool, but I don't have anything else today. I can call in Rhonda to work the counter for a while. When did you want to pick it up?"

"Around—two thirty?" Daryl asked.

"I can make it work," Faye said. "Anything else?"

"Two coffees," Daryl said. "Large. And—I want one of them good cake doughnuts you make an' Carol? What you want? Pick your poison?"

Carol walked over to the doughnut case. The woman followed behind the counter and beamed as Carol carefully trailed her eyes over each of the doughnuts on display. It was clear that Faye was proud of her confectionary creations. She wrapped up the doughnut that Daryl wanted while they waited.

"I don't know what to choose," Carol said finally.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Faye asked.

"Please," Carol insisted.

"That one," Faye said. "It's like an éclair. It's got everything you ever wanted in a doughnut."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Then how could I pick anything else?" She asked. "I'll take one of those."

Faye packed up the doughnuts and insisted that the breakfast was on the house. It was her small token of congratulations for all the news that she'd been given. She promised them the cake in time and stepped over to the yellow wall phone that marked how long she'd been running that bakery.

Carol prepared her coffee while Daryl made his.

"Friend of the family?" Carol asked, keeping her voice low.

"Somethin' like that," Daryl said. "Friend of Jo's. They bake together a lot. Any town function's got cakes an' pies an' shit from the both of 'em. Robert an' Hershel pal around a bit, but Robert's the damn definition of crotchety. He had a heart thing earlier this year. Faye's been out a while. Her sister runs the place when she can't. Rhonda. Faye always had it in her head that I might make her oldest daughter my old lady."

"But you never did," Carol mused, pressing him to speak about it.

"She weren't never old lady material," Daryl said. "And besides—it weren't never like that."

"Because you didn't want it to be?" Carol asked.

"Because she's like—almost ten years younger'n me. That mighta worked for Merle when it come to Andrea, but…it weren't never gonna work for me. I like kids an' all, but not to date 'em."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Merle would die to hear you say that," she offered, following him out of the store with their bags, doughnuts, and coffee. They had enough errands left to run to keep them busy until it was time to come back to get the cake—and then to pick up Sophia.

"Merle knows he corrupted Andrea," Daryl said. "He feels the guilt of that—and if you don't believe me? Just ask him about it. He got her ass through high school and through law school. Helped her get her business. He's gonna love her 'til the day his sorry ass dies, and maybe that makes it OK. But it don't change the fact that I just weren't never that kind."

"So, I don't—have to feel threatened by this…Kathy?" Carol asked, following Daryl out through the parking lot. His hands were full, but he dropped back to match his steps with hers.

"Sweetheart, you don't never gotta feel threatened by nobody," he assured her. "Not if I can help it."