AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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Daryl accepted T-Dog's almost continuous congratulations for much of the evening. In his life, Daryl had rarely felt that people were truly happy for him when anything good happened—not that he'd ever had too much good to happen in his life anyway—but he was certain that T-Dog was genuinely pleased about the upcoming wedding and the growing family with which he currently shared his home.

They'd shared a couple of beers while Carol had gone inside to take a leisurely shower—something that Daryl knew she enjoyed, and wanted her to have—and dedicated a little time to feeling better about her nursery.

When Daryl had finally seen T-Dog off to bed and was ready for sleep himself—sure that it must be late enough to practically be morning again—Daryl went looking for Carol. He expected to find her in bed, already sleeping. Instead, he found her in the nursery.

She didn't look to be too hard at work, but she looked to be absolutely drowning in thoughts. Daryl tapped the doorway with his knuckle as he approached so that he wouldn't startle her too badly.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Carol looked surprised to see him there, but it was the surprise of being drawn out of her thoughts. She smiled to herself after a moment and seemed to remember that she was dealing with a large stack of clothing and other items. She returned to absentmindedly folding them.

"I'm afraid you might not want to even pay that much for the mess that's inside my head," Carol said.

"I'd pay way on more'n that to know what you're thinking," Daryl said. He drained the last of the beer he was drinking and lit a cigarette for himself. "It's late. You oughta be sleepin'. She needs her sleep—baby girl." He smiled to himself. "I like that Alice calls her that."

"I like it, too," Carol said. She sucked in a breath and sighed.

"That don't sound too much like you're liking everything," Daryl offered.

"It's just—I don't even know, Daryl. It doesn't make sense…"

"Don't have to make sense," Daryl said. "You just start sayin' it. We'll put it all together, in order, later."

Carol laughed quietly.

"Like spilling puzzle pieces all over the table before you arrange them?"

"I like puzzles," Daryl said with a shrug. "Hell—maybe we oughta get one. Spread it out on a table. Could be somethin' to keep us all occupied during the winter."

"We could get a puzzle."

"Big one. Some ridiculous shit. Two thousand pieces of a picture that's like—they're all the same color."

"That would be quite the challenge," Carol said.

"I like a challenge," Daryl assured her. "For tonight, why don't you give me your puzzle, and I'll help you put it together."

Carol frowned to herself and ran her hand affectionately over her belly. Daryl watched her hand make circles, and he let his eyes take her in. He shamed himself, silently, for the rush of blood and the following semi-hardness that came when he thought about how perfect she looked just standing there in a soft nightgown that landed just at her thighs and was higher in the front where it hung over her belly—her neck, the soft curve of her jaw, her long fingers running laps around the swollen belly where the entity they hardly knew rested, her bare legs and bare feet.

It wasn't the time, but Daryl couldn't help that he thought she was beautiful, and he couldn't really help that his body responded the way that it did when it saw something that pleased him so completely.

He cleared his throat quietly and shifted his weight to hide his discomfort until it passed. He focused on his cigarette and the walls of the room—anything to keep from looking at her for a moment.

"She doesn't have a name," Carol said.

"There's plenty of names to be had," Daryl said. "We'll get her one. Whatever you like."

"I feel like—I'm not ready," Carol said.

"Whatever you need, we'll get that, too."

"I've kind of been taking inventory. I have diapers and—clothes. Clothes for both of us, really. Blankets. Rags and towels. A manual breast pump. She's got a bed and—that little bassinet could go by the bed for feedings in the middle of the night, at least until she's sleeping longer. There's a little tub for bathing her. I love her rocking chair, and I have the seat for her, so she can go with me. The wraps—so I can carry her."

"I'ma be real honest," Daryl offered, some of his earlier discomfort waning as he was able to focus on something else, "but I don't know what some of that is and I don't even know what all you need. But if you know somethin' that you're missing? You tell me and I'll go tomorrow morning and make sure we got it."

"That's the thing," Carol said. "As far as I can tell, I'm not missing anything."

"That's good, then," Daryl said. "Means we're ready."

"We're ready," Carol said, drawing out the words like she was tasting them. "I expected to have—I don't know—more time. I was further along than I thought when I got here. She just wasn't growing that fast."

"You weren't growin' that fast," Daryl offered. "She's been growin' steady, even if she was just a skinny little thing. You just weren't plumpin' up too much 'cause Rick wouldn't let you eat shit and you didn't tell me, early on, that you could stand a couple extra mouthfuls at a meal to pass on to baby girl."

"I didn't want to be a burden," Carol said. "There was so much to worry about already."

"I swear I ain't scoldin' you," Daryl said. "If that's what you think I'm doing, I'm not. I just meant—I wish you woulda told me. But—I guess it don't matter now. You're eatin' good, right? She's growin'. Found out she's a lil' older than you originally gave her credit for, but…it don't matter, does it?"

"I keep thinking that—if she makes it? Daryl, I'm going to be a Mama again. Soon. And—it almost makes me dizzy to think of holding her in my arms and suddenly…there's a baby. A little baby girl. And…" Carol's breath obviously caught and she put her hand to her chest. Daryl put the bottle down where he was, the cigarette butt slipped through the neck of it, and rushed toward her. He guided her quickly toward the rocking chair.

"You better sit down," he said, helping her to do just that. "She's gonna make it, Carol. It's all gonna be OK. And you're right, you're gonna be a Mama. You already are. You just now realizing there's a baby?"

Carol wiped at the tears leaking down her face and Daryl handed her cloth from the pile of things on the table. One rag, he assumed, was as good as another for cleaning up things that needed to be dried.

"I knew she was there, but I don't think I really let myself think about—the fact that she would really come," Carol said. "That she would really be here, and she'd really be real." She laughed to herself. "Not just—pretend."

Daryl's heart drummed hard and fast in his chest. He didn't tell Carol that he felt almost a little lightheaded, himself. He knelt down, cursing the floor for being so hard on his knees despite the carpeting, and rested in front of her. He rested his hand over the swell of her stomach, and she put her hand over his, as she often did.

"She's comin'," he said. "And—you got what you need. We'll get her a name. Even if she don't have a name right when she gets here, I guess it'll be fine. She'll get one."

"Daryl…" Carol said. There was hesitation in her voice. A pause that made Daryl's heartbeat change and his blood almost seem to freeze in his veins. He hummed to press her on, though. Carol stroked his cheek affectionately. "Babies are—so needy. They're loud. They cry and they…poop and pee. They spit up. They're messy. They want to eat, and sleep, and whine, and…sometimes you don't even know why they're crying. They keep you up all hours of the night, and they demand so much…so much…attention."

Daryl swallowed. The baby in her belly was still, at least as far as Daryl could tell. The hormones in her mother's body hadn't forced her awake yet. Usually, though, she would be responding to the fact that Carol looked a little soggy. Daryl flexed his fingers, like he could scratch her back or offer her some other physical caress through the barrier created by Carol's body.

"You—don't want her or something?" Daryl asked.

"Oh—no!" Carol said quickly. "I mean—yes, I want her. I absolutely want her, Daryl. I'm just—I guess—I want to give you a chance, Daryl. To change your mind. One last chance. Before tomorrow. Before you say you want to marry me, and you want to have to deal with everything that having a baby means. I think, when Sophia was born, Ed really wasn't ready for what having a baby really meant."

"Sounds to me like Ed weren't ready for a lot of shit," Daryl said. "Weren't ready for a wife. Weren't ready for his own kid. Weren't ready for the hell that got unleashed on all of us, an' all that's what's got his ass rottenin' outside Atlanta."

"Are you angry with me?" Carol asked. He felt her muscles move. He felt her tense. Beneath his hand, he felt the baby shift. Carol's fear of Daryl's potential anger was enough to make her body wake the little one. He remembered Carol's belief that Sophia had learned to fear her father even before she was born—that she'd learned to shy away from him before she'd even come into the world. Daryl rubbed his hand, gently, back and forth—an attempt to soothe both of them.

"I'm angry with him," Daryl said. "Didn't mean to raise my voice. Maybe—I'm a little frustrated, too. I got a lot to learn when it comes to babies, Carol, and I'm not going to pretend I don't. I never had any practice with them. And maybe you're gonna have to talk me through how to do some things, but…I thought I made it pretty clear that I'm wantin' to be here for her. For both of you."

"You did," Carol said. "But—if I hadn't really…not really…thought about what was coming, maybe I thought…you hadn't either."

Daryl's stomach knotted and unknotted. He laughed to himself.

"I guess I accept that," he said. "That's logical enough. I haven't changed my mind, though. Have you?"

"No," Carol said, smiling at him when he looked at her. She caressed his face again, and Daryl didn't really care any longer that his knees were uncomfortable in this position. He thought he might be content to spend the night like this—that he might even want to rest his head against her thigh and against her belly and sleep like this with her running her fingers through his hair and caressing his face.

"There's something I gotta talk to you about," Daryl said. "I been—thinkin' about it for a while. Never seemed like the right time to talk about it."

"Now does?" Carol asked. He could hear the tension in her voice. He could feel it beneath his hand as her body tensed. Without thinking, he hummed out an attempt to soothe her.

"It's not bad. At least—I hope it's not." She took him at face value. Her body relaxed. "Baby girl—she ain't mine. At the end of the day, you an' me both know we got that secret between us. It weren't me that…made her."

"And I'm so sorry for that," Carol said, almost immediately needing the rag that she'd been holding in her hand. "I wish—I want her to be yours…"

Daryl's throat ached. He hated to see tears running out of her eyes. He reached his hand up and rubbed his fingers over her face, catching the moisture as it ran down. He offered her the best smile he could scrounge up over his aching throat, chest, and knees.

"Then you gonna like what I'm thinking," Daryl said. "Because—I want her to be mine, too. I wanna change things. Get rid of—of Ed—forever."

"You can't," Carol said. "It doesn't work that way."

"I'm not an idiot," Daryl said. "I know how the hell biology works, but…there's still pretend, right? And we do pretty good at that. I was thinkin' that tomorrow night—'cause it's fuckin' late tonight, Carol, and you gotta sleep—we could pretend, you know?"

"Pretend?"

"When we're—married," Daryl said. "We could really pretend it. Really push him out, you know? As far as possible. Let him go forever. Not let him keep on livin' here. We could pretend that…it was us who was…hell, you know what I mean, Carol. Makin' her—as married people. Like she was comin' from us both." Immediately, hearing the words coming out of his mouth, Daryl felt like he'd been punched hard in the chest. He'd run them around in his head for some time. He'd thought about the way he wanted things to go and how he wanted to feel. Saying them out loud, though, it just made him feel foolish. "Forget it," he said, pushing himself up. "Stupid. That shit's fuckin'—stupid. And I'm sorry I said it."

"Daryl…wait," Carol said, catching his wrist as he pulled up and pulled away. With both hands wrapped around the lower part of his arm, she tugged at him, rocking forward in the chair as he pulled at her. "Wait—please, Daryl…"

Daryl felt his whole face drawing up. He didn't want to wait. He didn't want to look at her—not right that moment. His face was hot and the heat was spreading through his body, and not in a good way. He looked at her, though, because that's what marriage was about and he still meant to marry her the next day.

Her eyes were practically drowning in tears, and the tears rolled down her face, but she didn't dare to wipe them away because she'd dropped her rag to hold to his arm with both hands.

"I don't think it sounds stupid, Daryl," Carol said. "I want to—pretend with you. It's just that I know you said you were tired of pretend. You were tired of secrets. You wanted everything to be real. And I can't change the reality of—this. But I want to pretend with you. We can—get rid of Ed. Pretend together. And we can keep our secrets."

Daryl felt himself relax a little. The ache in his chest didn't fade entirely, but it did fade a little. He stepped forward to allow Carol to rock gently back into a comfortable position in the chair. She didn't release her hold on him—like she was scared he was going to run and she intended to be dragged, if that's what had to happen, to keep up with him.

"Only the most important secrets," Daryl said. "Maybe—a little pretendin' don't hurt."

Carol smiled rather sincerely through the tears that hadn't yet dried up completely. She relaxed her fingers and dropped her hands from holding Daryl there.

"I would—love it if we happened to…to conceive a baby on our honeymoon," she offered.

Daryl's face grew warm again, and there was the now-familiar churning in his gut.

"Me too," he confirmed. "But—it's late, now, Carol. And we really oughta try to get some sleep. If we don't, it's a good chance we won't even be awake to see our honeymoon."

"We wouldn't want that," Carol said. "Help me—get out of the chair?"

Daryl laughed to himself. He offered her a hand and helped her stand up. As soon as she was on her feet, he pulled her to him, and he accepted the long, sweet kiss that she gave him.

"You think that chair's hard to get out of now," he teased, "you're really gonna have a hard time if we manage to make a baby together."

Carol laughed quietly and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"You want to know a secret?" She asked.

"Always," Daryl offered.

"I've got a good feeling we'll succeed."

"Me too, woman," Daryl said. "And I can't fuckin' wait."