AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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Picking out a Christmas tree wasn't too difficult. There were a few that were simply wildly out of their price range, and there were only a few more that were both attractive and fell into the range of what they could afford. The one that Carol chose was, honestly, more beautiful than Daryl had imagined a fake tree could ever actually be. It was on sale, too, actually making it one of the cheapest options available at the store.

At first, and perhaps still overcome with the memory that had resurfaced for Sophia over dinner, Carol had apologized profusely for the cost of the tree, and Daryl had quickly managed to calm her by pointing out that she didn't want to upset Sophia who was wandering around, looking at the shiny Christmas decorations that were on display in the store that had been transformed into something of a winter wonderland. The tree was on sale, it wasn't very expensive, they needed a Christmas tree, and it was, really, quite a good deal given how long it would last them and how much it would cost them to buy a real tree each year instead of re-using this one.

Carol's second apology came for the size of the tree that she'd selected, and Daryl dismissed it just as quickly as he had the apology for the price. The starter house was small, and the tree might be a bit of a tight fit in the living room this one time, but they were buying this tree for their future home and their future Christmas celebrations. It was one of the first of many purchases they would be making toward their future life together. They could deal with being a touch crowded by the Christmas spirit this year.

"Listen," Daryl said, stopping in front of one of the long aisles of ornaments and catching Carol by the upper part of her arms. He kneaded her muscles and glanced over her shoulder at Sophia who was examining some reindeer she'd found in one of the displays of assorted Christmas decorations. He kept his voice soft and barely above a whisper so that it would travel to Carol and nowhere beyond. "I want you to be calm, OK? Enjoy yourself. I don't know what the hell Sophia was rememberin', but I know you do, OK? I know you know exactly what it was. And—shit I can feel the tension in your muscles. Take a deep breath. Let it out. Don't hold onto whatever it is. Shit's done now, and it ain't no good for you, and it ain't no good for Pea Baby, for you to hold onto it, OK? You an' me? We bust our asses, Carol. Day in and day out, we're bustin' our asses. And we ain't hurtin' for money. We ain't on no top ten millionaires list or nothin', but we can afford a decent ass Christmas, OK?"

Carol was breathing heavy. The panic—because that's what it was, really, a touch of trauma-induced panic—had her on the verge of an attack. Daryl softly shushed her. He held her eyes, rubbed her arms, and softly shushed her. She clearly wanted to do what he asked. She did take a few breaths—deep, slow ones—and she exhaled them with purpose. He smiled at her when he could feel her body relaxing slightly. He leaned his head forward and pressed his forehead against hers.

"It's our first Christmas together," he said, keeping his voice at such a volume that it would seem that he was sharing a secret with her. She smiled. Apparently, this was a secret that she liked.

"It is our first Christmas together," Carol confirmed.

"Already the best damn Christmas of my life," Daryl said. Her smile grew.

"It's not Christmas yet," Carol said.

"No, but it's comin'," Daryl said. "You good, now? You OK?"

Carol took a final deep breath and let it out. She nodded. Daryl turned her toward the rack of decorations.

"We have enough plain ones in that box that Andrea gave us," Carol said. "We don't need any regular ornaments."

"We might be good on the regular balls," Daryl said. But we need some fancy decorations. A couple nice ornaments. We need one for this year—with the year on it. And—one for Pea Baby. One for Sophia."

"You don't want to wait until it's really Pea Baby's first Christmas?" Carol asked.

"It is Pea Baby's first Christmas," Daryl said.

"Daryl—you wait until they're born. Just in case."

"I don't wanna hear no just in case shit," Daryl said. "Just in case, my ass. I don't wanna hear them words again, OK? Not about our kid. It's Pea Baby's first Christmas, Carol."

"Fine," Carol said. "Fine. Then—you pick out the ornaments. I want to see what you pick out."

"What about you?" Daryl asked.

"I'll be happy with anything you choose," Carol said. "And—besides—I'm going to take Sophia to pick out a tree skirt over there."

"You don't want no input on the ornaments?" Daryl asked.

"I want you to surprise me," Carol said. "But remember—if you can't find what you like? We can make it, Daryl. We can figure it out."

"Fair enough," Daryl said. "On your way to get a skirt or whatever? Grab Sophia one of them sets of reindeer."

"We don't need a family of reindeer, Daryl."

"There's plenty of shit in life we don't need," Daryl said. "But Sophia's gonna have her a herd of reindeer."

Carol laughed to herself, but she didn't argue and she didn't protest, again, against the purchase of the reindeer. Instead, she simply nodded and started down the aisle toward the spot, at the end, where Sophia had sat down on her bottom to play with the reindeer she'd plucked from the display.

Daryl let them do their thing, and he turned his attention, for just a moment, to selecting the perfect first ornaments for their collection.

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The tree was paid for, but they hadn't taken it with them because of its size. Their tree had waited patiently on them while they bought Sophia's doll—a pretty baby doll that, to Daryl, actually looked like a real baby—and had gone to get ice cream. They had a receipt and a pick-up card for the tree so that, when they were done, Daryl pulled the truck around to the large entrance of the store and an employee helped him load the heavy box with their new tree into the back of the truck.

On the way back home, Daryl questioned Sophia about her doll—was it a boy or a girl? What was its name?

Sophia decided the baby was a girl. Her name was Isabelle. Daryl had asked Carol, by simply raising his eyebrows at her, whether or not she knew where the name came from. She'd responded with nothing more than an expression and a gentle shake of her head.

Daryl had asked Sophia if she knew the names of her family of reindeer—ten of them in the total winter wonderland set—and she'd listed off all of Santa's reindeer. Upon discovering that Santa only had eight reindeer, and her set held ten, she'd gotten just a touch upset.

Daryl had assured her that her reindeer set was correct. One of the reindeer, no doubt, was Rudolph, he'd told her, even if the store had forgotten to make his nose red—something Daryl promised her that he could remedy at the house—and the other must be Rudolph's lesser-known redneck cousin, Leroy the Reindeer.

Pleased with her new baby—freed from its boxed prison by Carol as they drove down the road—and her new family of reindeer, and full of steak, potatoes, and ice cream, Sophia fell asleep long before they parked the truck in the yard.

Carol went ahead, opening the door and turning on lights, and Daryl followed after her with Sophia in his arms. He left her changing a sleepy Sophia into pajamas while he carried in their bags and the big box that held their tree. He put the tree box in the middle of the living room. In the morning, they would unpack it, and they would spend the rest of the day, as a family, simply decking the proverbial halls and getting the little house ready for the holidays.

On second thought, Daryl pushed the heavy tree box against the wall. He walked into the kitchen, unpacked the bag with the ornaments, and laid them out on the table. He admired them a second, confirmed for himself that he liked his purchases, and returned them to the bag. He doubled it over and put it in the center of the table. He'd been secretive with them on purpose. Carol hadn't looked at them as he'd carried them up to buy them—or at least she'd pretended not to look. She wanted to be surprised, the following day, when he unpacked them to find special places for them on the tree.

He'd no sooner put the bag in the center of the table than Carol walked in from Sophia's bedroom. Immediately, she came to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"Sophia's asleep with Isabelle," Carol teased. Daryl laughed to himself.

"Where the hell'd she get that name?" He asked.

"Beats me," Carol said. "Maybe one of her little shows or…a book or something. Maybe it's someone she goes to school with."

"Not a bad name," Daryl said.

"You mean…?"

"Isabelle Dixon," Daryl said. "I gotta admit—I don't hate it."

"For Pea Baby?" Carol asked.

"Just a suggestion," Daryl said, hugging her tighter against him. "I mean—throwin' it out there into the pot."

"We'd be stealing Sophia's name," Carol said.

"You don't think she'd eat that shit up? That she got to name her baby sister? She'd love the hell outta that."

Carol smiled at him.

"What if—it's a boy?" She asked.

"We'll figure somethin' out for that, too. I mean—we got time."

"Do you care?" Carol asked. Daryl furrowed his brow at her. "Be honest," she said. "Boy or girl? What do you want, Daryl? Really?"

Daryl's stomach tightened. Then, it felt wobbly—uncomfortable.

"I'ma be totally—completely—fuckin' honest with you, OK?"

Carol nodded. She was looking at him expectantly. If she wasn't holding her breath, she was definitely barely breathing. Daryl touched her lips with his thumb. He touched her cheek. He brushed his thumb affectionately over the freckles that dusted the skin under her left eye for no other reason than he simply wanted to touch her.

"The only thing I want—the only things I want—Carol, is to have a baby with you," Daryl said. "To have a family with you. This family. The one we makin' right here, right now. I wanna—finish buildin' that house with you. Wanna live there. Watch our kids grow up. This baby? Pea Baby? I don't care if it's a boy or a girl or…hell…somethin' in between. Long as its healthy and it's ours. Long as you're healthy, too." Daryl leaned and touched his lips against Carol's forehead. She sighed deeply and he wrapped his arms around her and held her for a moment. "No matter what happens, though—or what we get? You ain't done nothin' wrong, OK? That's the most important thing I want'cha to remember, Carol. No matter what? You ain't done a single fuckin' thing wrong. You the best thing that's ever happened to me, and don't nothin' change that."

Carol wrapped her arms tightly around Daryl and burrowed into him as she tried to get as close as she could. He humored her and squeezed her tightly enough to get her what she was searching for.

"I love you," she said.

"Good thing," Daryl said. "You stuck with me now."

She laughed.

"I do like Isabelle," Carol said. "If Pea Baby's a girl."

"Me too," Daryl said. "But—we got time and maybe we like other things more. There ain't no hurry. Come here."

Daryl wrapped Carol's hand in his and tugged her toward the living room.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"So damned suspicious," Daryl teased. "And I ain't never give you a reason to be. Come on, woman."

Carol did follow him, though she playfully tugged back at his hand so that he would pull her—and she laughed happily when he did pull her. In the living room, he held her hand while he used the other to select a disc from the ones that Andrea left behind and to put it in the little CD player. He selected the number he wanted and turned the volume down low so that it wouldn't bother Sophia. The room was small enough, after all, that it wasn't like the volume needed to be too loud for them to hear it.

When he faced Carol, she was smiling at him, pink-cheeked.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"I hope I'm dancin' with my wife," Daryl offered.

"Not your Old Lady?" Carol teased, raising her eyebrows at him.

He smiled at her and nodded his head.

"That, too," he said. He took her in his arms and she didn't fight him at all. Instead, she simply stepped closer to him, bringing their bodies together, and started to sway with him in time to the slow music he'd chosen. "Old Lady. Wife. Love of my life. Hell—any of them oughta do. All of 'em."

"Daryl?" Carol said, her head resting against him as he swayed her around the small space of the living room, thankful that she didn't mind that he couldn't really dance.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"What exactly did I do to deserve you?" Carol asked.

The sincerity with which she asked the question struck Daryl. His chest tightened. His heart, maybe, knocked against his sternum. She wasn't teasing him. She was being sincere—absolutely sincere—and nothing else she could have said could have made him feel more loved, and more worthy, than he felt in that second.

But he didn't know how to communicate that feeling, and he hoped she understood. He hoped she could simply understand him.

He squeezed her just a bit tighter in his arms in response and, when he found his voice again, he spoke. She didn't point out the slight crack to the quality of his voice or the fact that, without a doubt, she could probably tell that he was using the teasing he forced into his words to cover that crack. She simply rubbed her face against him and kept on dancing right along with the imperfect rhythm that he'd set for the both of them.

"Just lucky, I guess," he said. "Just like me."