AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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It would still be some time before the sun came up, but it wasn't pitch black in the room. There had originally been a nightlight in a soap dish in the bathroom when they'd arrived, but Daryl had moved the light to the bedroom and plugged it in because Carol went back and forth between the bed and the bathroom a great deal, and he didn't want her tripping or running into things. The soft glow of the little bulb was relaxing, and it provided just enough light that Daryl didn't feel entirely alone with his thoughts.
He wasn't alone. At least, physically he wasn't alone.
Daryl's arm was completely numb. It hurt. He wanted to move it.
But more than he wanted to move it, he wanted her to stay there. Right there. Just like she was at that moment. He wanted her to keep sleeping, unaware that his arm was under her pillow. He wanted her to keep sleeping, unaware that he touched her at intervals because he liked the way she felt there beside him, and he liked having permission to touch her—and he had permission, at least, until the morning came. She may change her mind about it all with the light of day, but for now, she was sleeping next to him.
Daryl brushed his free hand over Carol's arm. Her skin was cool to the touch and he pulled the blanket up a little so that it would warm her if she was cold. She hadn't put any clothes on. They'd both gotten ready for bed, but she'd never put anything on. Daryl hadn't asked her to, either. He liked that she let him see her entirely. Under the blanket, Daryl ran his hand down until it rested on the swell of her belly.
The baby was awake. She'd been awake for a bit, but Carol hadn't stirred, so Daryl assumed she was immune to the kicks and punches of the little one. Sometimes Daryl caught her, and she brushed against his palm. It was always just a gentle nudge before she found a way to slip off again and hide away from his hand.
She brushed him once more and he resisted the urge to press a little harder in search of where she went. He didn't want to disturb Carol. He moved his hand just a little, searching her out, but he was careful to do nothing beyond the same types of movements that he'd been doing before. He found her again, and she nudged him. He smiled to himself and brushed his fingertips over the spot to pet her back, though he doubted she could feel him in the same way that he could feel her.
"You could talk to her, you know."
Daryl jumped and Carol laughed.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"Shit," Daryl breathed out. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"I've been napping for a while," Carol said. "She keeps waking me up."
"You been awake some?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed. Daryl felt his face run warm. He'd been touching her the whole time he'd been awake. Arms, belly, sides—he'd been simply running his hand over her body. It felt less horrifying when he'd imagined she was asleep. "Sorry," he breathed out. His stomach tightened in discomfort over the thought of her almost certain disapproval.
"For what?" Carol asked.
"For—touchin' you," Daryl said.
Carol smiled at him. She reached her hand out and touched his face gently with her fingertips. He closed his eyes, for just a moment, to feel the touch better as her fingertips rubbed close to his temples.
"Don't apologize," Carol said. "I like it. And—she likes it, too."
"Long as you awake—can I have my arm back? Damned thing's been dead for hours."
"I'm sorry," Carol said. Daryl had to use his free hand to drag his dead arm free when she lifted enough to let him have it back. Immediately, she touched it, though Daryl could barely feel any touch on the arm. Slowly, the pin prickles started as it began to realize that it was going to be allowed blood flow once more. Her attempts to massage his hand back to life hurt a thousand times more than simply letting it wake naturally, but he liked her touching him, so he pretended it was fine.
"Don't say it," Daryl said. "You didn't know, and I didn't say."
"Why didn't you say?" Carol asked.
Daryl swallowed back his nervousness and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't about to tell her that he wanted her to stay asleep so he could look at her and touch her to his heart's content. He didn't want to tell her that he was afraid, really, that she would change her mind about him and everything they'd done as soon as she woke up.
"It was OK," he offered. He moved his live hand back to her belly. He'd touched it enough, now, that he moved his hand there without thinking about it. It was only once he'd rested it there again, now that she was awake, that he worried that he might be overstepping just a bit. "This OK?" He asked.
Carol smiled at him.
"I like it," she assured him. "She likes it." She repeated.
"You don't know that," Daryl said.
"I think I do," Carol said.
"How?" Daryl asked.
Carol covered his hand with her own and gently pushed at his hand. He gave over control to her and he soon realized what she was doing. She was better at finding the little nudges and bumps than he was, and she quickly moved his fingers over the spot where he could detect some movement. He kept his hand there and the same thing happened again.
"She jumpin' or…?"
"I think she has the hiccups," Carol said. "Maybe. It's regular and it's—it's just like a little hiccup." She smiled to herself. "Maybe she got too excited and she gave herself the hiccups."
"What would she get excited about?" Daryl asked.
Carol smiled to herself.
"You were playing with her," Carol said. "Playing chase or catch or something. Maybe—she got excited from the game. I told you. She likes it. How's your hand?"
Carol returned her hands to Daryl's other arm. In a movement that he didn't expect, but fully appreciated, she brought his hand to her mouth and gently kissed his fingertips. He didn't expect, at all, the rush that he felt in his chest over such an unusual and unexpected gesture.
He nearly said something that he could have never taken back—something from which he would have never recovered once she heard the words and realized how truly fast his mind could move.
Such a simple gesture shouldn't have driven him to have such a profound thought, and he already knew what his brother would say.
Many a man had confused love for getting his dick wet.
But it was more than that.
"Hand's fine," Daryl said, instead. His heart actually felt like it sunk a little in his chest. "How can you know if she likes something or not?"
Daryl pulled away and sat up to change his position. Carol propped herself on her elbow, but continued to face him. She'd pushed the blanket down to bare her belly to him, and she seemed entirely relaxed there, in front of him.
She ran her fingers over her belly and smiled to herself. She half-heartedly shrugged her shoulders.
"When I was pregnant with Sophia, she didn't move a lot," Carol said. "Oh—there were kicks and some movement, but not like this. I think this little one has moved more in an hour than Sophia moved in a month."
"Eatin' good," Daryl said. "Eatin' good an' growin' good. You heard the doctor. That's what she's doin'. Just like she's supposed to."
"That's my point, maybe," Carol said. "She likes it. She's happy. She's doing well."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"We know that, but it don't got shit to do with me or me touchin' you," Daryl said.
"Sophia knew when Ed was around," Carol said. "I'm certain she did. She would—she'd ball up really tight. Really tight and small and I'd feel her like here…like right here…like she was balled up on one side."
"Hidin'?" Daryl asked.
His stomach clenched in a way that surprised him as he imagined a tiny baby—probably no bigger than his hand—all drawn up like his fist and hiding in fear in her mama's belly. He didn't know if such a thing was possible, but it broke his heart to imagine a baby that might have been grown, just the same as this one was being grown now, in nothing but a practical stew of fear.
He wondered if he and Merle had been the same way.
"I think she was," Carol said. "She didn't move when Ed was around."
"Maybe it's 'cause you was stressin' an' so she was stressin' 'cause that's what your body told her to do," Daryl offered.
"I think so," Carol said. "I think—also—I think she knew what he sounded like. She knew his voice. Maybe she could hear his anger. So, she ran away from his sound. She hid from his sound."
"I'm sorry," Daryl offered.
"Don't be," Carol said.
"I don't—don't want her to be scared," Daryl said. "This one. I mean—I wouldn't have wanted Sophia to be scared but…"
"I know what you mean," Carol said. "Are you OK?"
Daryl realized that is face must give him away.
"Just—hard to hear, I guess," Daryl offered.
"I'm sorry," Carol apologized. Daryl laughed to himself.
"Harder for you to say," Daryl said. "It's your story. And—you gotta talk about her. Sophia, I mean. I just—don't want this one to be scared."
"I think that's my point," Carol said. "She's not. She's happy. She moves around all the time. She stretches out. She's playing with you. She's not scared of you. She's happy you're there—that you're touching her." She smiled to herself. "She likes it. If she didn't, I feel like I would know."
Daryl didn't know if it was true, but he liked the thought that it might be. He put his hand back on Carol's belly. She patted his hand.
"She's stopped," Carol said.
"Napping?" Daryl asked.
"Maybe," Carol said. "Maybe she's just resting. You should talk to her."
"You think she can really hear?" Daryl asked.
"I know she can," Carol assured him. "I told you, I'm certain that Sophia was afraid of Ed's voice. She could hear him." She patted her belly, but her fingers really just patted against Daryl's since he hadn't moved his hand. "This little one never had to know what his voice sounded like. I don't think she could hear before he was gone."
"Good," Daryl said. "But—I'd feel kinda stupid if I was talkin' to her."
"Why?" Carol asked.
"Wouldn't know what to say," Daryl said.
"You can say whatever you want," Carol said. "She can hear us right now."
"She heard everything I was sayin' before?" Daryl asked. Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over him. "About—when I was talkin' about fuckin' you and when we brushed our teeth an' I told you that I liked eatin' your pussy?"
Carol laughed to herself.
"She heard it," Carol said. "But she didn't understand it. She just understood that—you were saying things that…that made me feel good."
"When you feel good, she feels good," Daryl offered.
Carol nodded.
"You could teach her things you wanted her to understand," Carol said. "If you said them a lot. Especially, I think, if you said them really nicely to her. The way that you wanted to say them to a baby."
"How the hell would she know I was talkin' to her if she can hear everything anyway?" Daryl asked.
He nipped at a piece of loose skin on his thumb. With his teeth, he chewed it away. Even though it stung, he continued to do it because he felt that the simple and slightly repetitive action was calming.
"You get closer to her," Carol said. "And then she'll know."
Daryl's heart drummed in his chest. This was, he could tell, an invitation to talk to the baby that Carol carried. It was an invitation to tell her something. To share with her something sweet and nice. Something she could sleep on, even. It was the chance to say things to her that would make her feel good.
Daryl liked the idea of children growing up with things that made them feel good.
Too damned many of them, he knew, had grown up like Sophia.
He felt a little silly, and his cheeks burned, but Daryl moved and leaned close to Carol's belly. As he got near to her, his instinct to kiss her belly kicked in and he did it—without asking permission, but Carol didn't correct him or seem to mind. In fact, she did something entirely unexpected, but so pleasant that it was worth any discomfort that Daryl might feel from embarrassment. She massaged her fingers into his hair and scratched affectionately at his scalp.
"Hey," Daryl said, fighting the embarrassment. Carol wasn't laughing at him. This didn't feel like a trick for her to get his goat. "You oughta go to sleep. If you were playin' with me, like your Ma said, then I liked it, too. But now's the time for sleepin' and not for playin'. We gotta sleep soon, too, because we both got work tomorrow. I'll tell you a secret. We gotta sleep, too, 'cause your Ma's gotta learn to hit a bullseye before she drives me crazy over it." Daryl laughed to himself when Carol tugged at his hair before she returned to scratching his scalp. Suddenly he didn't feel embarrassed and uncomfortable—he felt right. He felt happy. "Go to sleep," Daryl said. "And I'll play with you some more tomorrow, if you still want, I mean."
Daryl sat back up and looked at Carol. She was smiling at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
"How'd I do?" He asked.
"I think you did wonderfully," Carol said. She yawned. "If you think your arm can stand it, do you want to get some sleep?"
"Yeah," Daryl said.
He laid back down and was pleased when Carol moved right next to him and practically curled into him in search of a comfortable spot. Daryl eased his arm over her and, finding she didn't protest, pulled her a little tighter against him.
"Merle would give me hell if he knew I was talkin' to a baby that might not can hear me," Daryl offered.
Carol laughed to herself.
"I promise you that she can hear you," Carol said. "But we don't have to tell Merle or anybody. It can be our little secret for now."