AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

It's Freefromthecocoon's birthday tomorrow, so this was a special request to go out today.

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

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They made several stops throughout the day for Daryl to attend to some errands that he needed to run. He wanted Carol kept close to him, so she was never more than an arm's length away from him. At numerous stops, he loaded up boxes and other items into the back of his truck, all of which they dropped off at the shop. They met the truck, as well, that was scheduled to bring ordered supplies from a bulk retailer to the Chambers.

Lunch was a barbecue sandwich, grabbed at the Dairy-O in between errands, and they picked up food to make burgers and fries on the grill before they swung by the bakery to pick up Sophia's cake which, safely nestled in its box, was hidden at the house before they sat in the car line to pick Sophia up and dismissed her "tails" with a wave.

Sophia was excited. She'd spent the day working on Halloween projects in between her other subjects. She'd clearly made a new friend that had sat with her at lunch—a boy by the name of William, to go along with her somewhat established little friend, Macy—and she'd enjoyed a game they'd played at P.E. that had involved something with a rainbow sheet and balls.

Sophia talked a million miles a minute in the truck, and it didn't seem to bother Daryl at all. He laughed at her antics, encouraged her talking, and promised her a quick game of catch when they got to the house—something to get out a little extra energy before she sat down to her homework, and Carol got to work patting out hamburger for Daryl to cook on the grill.

He kept his promise, too. At the house, Daryl took Sophia's backpack and carried it inside while he demanded she go to the bathroom and get a quick snack—something to keep her from whining later about starving while the food was cooking—and then he got her little ball and their gloves ready. Carol sat on the porch and watched them while they tossed the ball back and forth, both of them relatively bad at the sport as far as true ability went, and she smiled to herself the whole time.

She had chosen poorly when she'd chosen Ed as her husband. He had been a terrible choice for Sophia's father. What little bit he'd wanted a child had been for all the wrong reasons—because that's what they were supposed to do and all the men he knew were proving their virility, or some such ridiculousness, by producing children—and not at all for the right reasons. The one baby that Carol had miscarried, gone far too young to really even count to anyone except Carol, had angered Ed. But it hadn't been in response to the heartbreak of losing a child. It had simply been a response to feeling like Carol had failed him in some way, as she did every day. Ed hadn't wanted a baby girl, either. He'd wanted a son to carry on the family name. And then, as Sophia had aged, Ed had only shown interest in people noticing that she was a pretty little girl—he'd noticed, maybe a little more than he should, that she was a pretty little girl.

Carol had chosen poorly when she'd chosen Ed as her husband and Sophia's father.

But, sitting on the porch with her head leaning back against the column, and watching Daryl and Sophia play in the yard to run off a little energy that would allow Sophia to sit still while she completed the folder full of homework that she needed to finish later, Carol knew that things were different this time.

This time, Carol had chosen well. She'd chosen well when she'd chosen Daryl as her husband and the father of Sophia and the baby that she carried.

Daryl wanted children and a family for all the right reasons. He wanted children because he genuinely liked children. He wanted children because he wanted to give children a better life than what he'd had. He wanted children because he had more love than he could contain, and he wanted to pour it out on the people that he felt allowed to love—the people he believed could love him. And if something were to happen to the little one that Carol carried, she knew that Daryl wouldn't be angry—at least not with her. He wouldn't feel that she'd failed him. He would be heartbroken, like she would be, but he would sit with her in their grief instead of slapping her in the face—literally and figuratively—for what had happened. Daryl, she knew, would love the baby no matter its sex, and he already loved Sophia. His acknowledgement of Sophia being a pretty little girl, in sharp contrast to Ed's, was no different than his acknowledgement of her being a smart little girl, a funny little girl, a creative little girl, and a wonderful, loving little girl. Daryl only wanted to love Sophia for simply being Sophia.

Carol knew that she had chosen well—no matter what anybody else might say about Daryl and his associations.

When the edge had been taken off of Sophia's energy, Daryl had taken her inside, and they'd settled at the table with her homework folder. Carol patted out hamburger patties and listened while they worked. She'd covered over the food to wait for Daryl to cook it on the grill, and she'd stood over to the side and watched while Daryl finished up the work he had to do with Sophia.

Daryl had grilled their burgers, and Sophia had "helped" him by standing close by and holding everything he needed when he wasn't actually using it. She'd delivered a couple of beers to him, too, while he worked. And then, when the food was ready, she'd carried all the odds and ends inside to be washed while Daryl had brought in the plate of burgers.

Carol made Sophia's burger for her, and they'd enjoyed the kind of dinner that families were supposed to enjoy—all of them sitting around the table while they talked about anything that came to anyone's mind. Sophia was excited about Halloween and, for the fourth time, she'd confirmed that she only wanted to go as what she already was—a Judge. She'd already designated Daryl and Carol to go as what they were, as well—a Judge and his old lady. Carol figured, for the benefit of over-dramatizing what was, honestly, their reality, she would at least wear her "Old Lady" vest while they walked her through some of the neighborhoods and around the church Halloween carnival.

Near the end of the meal, Carol caught Daryl's eye. He nodded, so she simply nodded back. He got up and quickly returned with the one thing that he'd stopped to make before they'd gone to pick up Sophia. Now that he was standing with it in his hand, he frowned at it like he was terribly unhappy with it.

It was nothing more than the equivalent of a construction paper Valentine and, really, Carol was sure that Daryl was looking at it as something that simply wasn't as special or wonderful as he wanted it to be. For a five year old girl, however, the magic would be there—especially, in later years, when she was able to understand that the simple little Valentine was the reason that Carol had had to sweep the floor twice, and it was the reason that there was still glitter, here and there, that caught the light when the angle was just right. It would mean a great deal to Sophia, later in life, when she was able to wrap her mind around the image of her daddy, sitting at the table and making the thing—with all the love in his heart—out of construction paper, glue, glitter, and markers.

The construction paper card would mean, when Sophia was much older—because Carol would save it for her even if her child-self didn't want to save it—much more than anything that Hallmark might have printed, not that they had anything for asking children if they'd like to be adopted.

"Hey," Daryl said, returning to the table and pulling his chair around to be right next to Sophia, "got somethin' for ya."

He placed the construction paper card in Sophia's hands and pushed her plate out of the way. Carol reached and picked it up. She started to clear the table, trying to give them just a bit of privacy. She listened to what they were saying, though and cast glances constantly, at both of them, to determine how they were both handling things.

"What is it?" Sophia asked. She was clearly pleased just over the pink and purple construction paper creation.

"Gotta read it," Daryl offered with a laugh.

"I'm not too good at that," Sophia said, a little mournfully. She was getting much better—so much better—in school, but she was a little behind the others in some ways. At least that's what her teacher had told Carol. Her improvement, though, made Carol wonder if environment had played into things.

"I'ma help," Daryl assured her. "You ready?"

Together, one word at a time, just like they'd been doing with her homework, Sophia managed to read the front of the card—a simple declaration that Daryl was sorry for everything she had seen and shouldn't have, and for everything she should have had and didn't.

"It's OK, Dar—Daddy," Sophia offered sincerely.

Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat. She needed to wash the dishes because it was the only thing that kept her from choking on her own feelings.

"Gotta read the inside, Soph," Daryl urged.

Sophia opened the card and, with Daryl's help, worked her way through the words there—most of them with more confidence than she had on the front of the card.

"I love you. Will you be my daughter?" Sophia read, confidently, after they'd gone through the words together, once, for sounding out and sight understanding.

Carol dried her hands and turned around to take it in. Daryl stared expectantly at Sophia who laughed at the card. It was a nervous laugh of not understanding, though, and Daryl thankfully caught onto that.

"Your old man," Daryl offered, "is gone. He ain't comin' back to you nor your Mama. And—I know you prob'ly got a lot of feelings about that that…well, maybe you don't even understand or know about right now. But—I wanna be your Daddy, Sophia. More'n I've wanted a lot of things in my life."

"You are," Sophia offered. "Right?" She added with some hesitation.

"If you want me to be," Daryl said. "But—I was talkin' about—you want me to go to talk to the Judge? After me an' your Ma gets married, 'cause they'll let me do it, then. And—you want me to talk to 'em, Sophia? Let's me an' you tell 'em that…that it oughta be that you're my daughter and I'm your Daddy and see about them makin' it real? Adopt you, official-like? So that'cha can be Sophia Dixon and I can be your lawful Daddy?"

"I'ma be a Dixon like you?" Sophia asked, her eyes lighting up a bit. "I can write it on my folder?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You can write it on any old thing you want," Daryl said. "You would be a Dixon like me and Merle. Like Andrea. Like your Mama will be after we get married. You want that?"

Sophia's declaration of "I love you" after she'd wrapped her arms around Daryl's neck, and after he'd caught her from falling out of her chair, was enough for him. It was enough for Carol, too. Sophia had given her blessing to the idea of Daryl becoming her adopted father.

And Carol was certain that they hadn't seen the end of the effects that Ed had on Sophia, but, at the moment, Sophia seemed to not be very concerned with Ed Peletier.

When Daryl was done hugging Sophia, and when she'd settled back in her chair at the table, Daryl stood up.

"There's one more thing, Sophia, that we got for you," Daryl said. "I think you gonna like it. I hope you gonna like it."

"What is it?" Sophia asked, practically bouncing around.

Daryl retrieved the cake, in its box, from the little room where Carol did the laundry. He brought the cake and put it on the table. He opened it up and Sophia sat on her knees in her chair to look at it even before Daryl lifted it out of its box. Carol moved the box as Daryl placed the decorated cake on the table.

Faye had done an excellent job.

It was purple. Across the entire surface of the purple cake, Faye had created the Judges' logo in silver icing. In one corner, the three bikes that Daryl had picked out were lined up. Written on the cake, in relatively easy to read, black letters, was "You're a big sister, Sophia!" Carol was glad she'd taken a picture of the cake before they put it on the table. She didn't imagine it would last too long.

Sophia's immediate excitement was the bikes. She grabbed for them, hesitated, and then looked to Daryl for approval.

He laughed.

"They're yours," he said. Sophia ripped them from the icing and Carol quickly put a plate in front of her and handed Daryl a damp rag to help contain the mess as it happened.

"Is this my cake?" Sophia asked.

"It is your cake," Daryl said. Carol had always baked little cakes for Sophia's birthdays, but they had never really ended well. She didn't know if Sophia remembered that Ed, in the past, had thrown a few tantrums on Sophia's birthday, sometimes about money and sometimes because he simply didn't get enough attention, and had smashed more than one of the little girl's cakes. Sophia's birthdays, whether she remembered them or not, had always ended in Sophia crying and Carol accepting whatever Ed wanted to give her to keep him from "giving the ungrateful brat something to cry about."

Even the sight of Sophia, in front of a cake, made Carol's heart automatically pound, and she felt a little dizzy as her blood pressure spiked automatically in response to what her body naturally perceived as dangerous.

She was thankful that it didn't seem to have the same ingrained response in Sophia. She was thankful, too, that, even though she had no way of really communicating it all to her naturally overreacting nervous system, she knew that his night wouldn't end with Sophia screaming and crying, her cake smashed in the floor, and Carol nursing whatever wounds were inflicted upon her to protect Sophia.

This evening would end, instead, with cake, a bath for Sophia, story-time, and, if they were lucky, a little blissful private time for Carol and Daryl.

"The whole thing?" Sophia asked, her eyes wide.

"Maybe you could share some of it?" Daryl asked with a laugh.

"OK," Sophia declared. She didn't really want to eat the whole cake, she simply wanted to possess it to dole out as she saw fit.

Carol sat down at the table.

"Did you read it, sweetheart?" Carol asked.

"I'm not good at that," Sophia said. Carol winced. She hated, for a second, everyone who had ever told Sophia she wasn't good at reading because—by the ripe old age of five—she hadn't mastered the skill. Carol always went the opposite way, and she praised Sophia for how smart she was and how good she was at doing math and at reading and, until recently, Sophia had believed her.

"I don't know who keeps telling you that," Carol said, "but it isn't true. You're very good at reading. You love your stories at night."

"Because you read 'em with me," Sophia insisted.

"I'ma read the cake with you," Daryl offered. "You ready?"

Sophia nodded. With very little assistance—and far less than Carol imagined some five-year-olds needed—Sophia read the cake with Daryl before swiping a finger through the edge of the icing at the bottom of the cake and tasting it.

"Do you know what it means?" Daryl asked.

"I'm a sister in the club," Sophia said, sucking on the icing-covered tire of one of her bikes.

"You are," Daryl confirmed with a nod. "But you gonna be a big sister outta the club, too. All them Dixons we gonna have—looks like we gonna have one more. Your Mama's gonna have a baby, Sophia. You gonna be a big sister."

Sophia looked at Carol. Carol nodded to confirm what Daryl had said. Carol could practically see the struggle to process everything on Sophia's face. It was a lot. It was, perhaps, too much for one day. It wouldn't sink in all at once—not all the way.

"You're gonna have a baby?" Sophia asked. Carol nodded again. Sophia went wide-eyed and slipped out of her chair, the bike still in her hand that she had been sucking on before. "Now?"

Carol laughed to herself. She patted her stomach where there was no evidence at all of a baby but, perhaps, there was some evidence of a day full of fattening meals.

"Not tonight," Carol said. "But—in the summer."

"It's in your tummy?" Sophia asked. Carol nodded. "Now?"

Carol swallowed down her laughter. She nodded.

"Now," she said.

Sophia practically launched herself at Carol, and Carol hugged her. Sophia immediately put her face to Carol's stomach, and Carol leaned back to allow her the exploration.

"I don't hear nothing," Sophia whispered.

"You ain't gonna," Daryl offered. "Pea-baby ain't but like the size of one of them green garden peas you hate eatin' so much."

Sophia turned around.

"That's so little!" She declared with far more enthusiasm than she needed at that hour. She hadn't had cake yet, and she would have to have cake. Carol was hoping a bath and a story might relax her, but she had no doubts that they would have a rough night getting Sophia to sleep—and that would mean a rough start to the morning dragging her to school.

At least she'd have the happiness of a new Daddy, a soon-to-come new name, and a new baby to keep her going throughout the day.

"It's gotta grow," Daryl said.

"Are you happy, Sophia?" Carol asked.

"When can I hold it?" Sophia asked.

"Not until the summer, baby," Carol said. "Not until it's born. Like Andrea and Merle's baby, it's got to grow."

"Can I name it?" Sophia asked.

"You can absolutely offer us some names and we'll think about them," Carol said. "We'll decide the best name as a family."

"Can I tell Macy and William?" Sophia asked, getting back into her chair when Daryl patted it.

"Sure, you can," Daryl offered, not waiting on Carol to answer. "And then, tomorrow, you gonna help us tell everyone at the Chambers."

Sophia beamed, clearly pleased.

"Do you have any other questions, right now, sweetheart?" Carol asked.

"Can I eat my cake?" Sophia asked.