AN: Here we are, another chapter here!
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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When Daryl was sure that Carol was situated and didn't need him for a little while, he slipped down to the mess hall to get them food. On the way there, he was greeted by nearly everyone he saw with a handshake, a pat on the back, or a smile. Everyone congratulated him on Baby Girl's safe arrival into the world. Apparently, to put minds at ease, Alice had let everyone know that mother and baby were doing well, and that the family needed a little quiet time to get to know one another and to welcome Baby Girl properly into the world before they were ready to show her around.
At the mess hall, Daryl fielded more congratulations, and more touching, as people took the opportunity to let him know that they were happy for his family's good fortune and, to some extent, the good fortune of the whole community.
Daryl ran into Melodye at the mess hall as she was finishing up her own meal. She asked him to wait for her, and he shared the last few minutes with her that it took for her to clean the plate that had been set in front of her, while he waited for them to pack up the food for he and Carol in a way that would be easy to carry. When he had his food, and Melodye was through eating, she walked with him back to his house, carrying the small tote of things that she and Alice wanted to deliver to Carol.
Along the way, she also shared some advice with Daryl—things that she'd thought of for him to know and consider as he was growing accustomed to their little family. At the door, she'd given him the bag and opened the door for him to pass inside, mindful of his overflowing hands, and she'd tossed her farewells at him as she closed the door.
Daryl carried everything—the food, the tote bag of assorted goods, the advice, and the congratulations of the community—back into the bedroom where, for at least a little while, he imagined they would be holed up.
Daryl dragged over a little table from the corner of the living room to create a small area for holding the food next to the bed. He unpacked and arranged the food, and he shook out a couple of pills from the bottle that Melodye had given him and offered them over to Carol to go with her meal and her glass of water.
"What is this?" She asked.
"I think it's just generic Tylenol or some shit," Daryl said. "Don't really matter. Your doctor sent it. Along with orders that you gotta eat and get some rest. Then, when you've had some sleep, we're gonna get you a bath."
Carol didn't argue at all. She obediently swallowed down the pills, washing them down with water that Daryl poured into one of the glasses from a jug he brought from the kitchen.
"How you wanna do this?" Daryl asked. "You wanna—put her in that basket while we eat?" Daryl asked, moving the bassinet closer to the bed.
Carol eyed the thing like Daryl had just brought over a live alligator and suggested it as a suitable babysitter during their meal.
"She's awake," Carol said.
Daryl peered at the baby girl in Carol's arms—now free from the bindings of her blanket. She was awake. She wasn't doing much of anything, as far as Daryl could tell. She seemed content to simply stay, just like she was, somewhat glancing around her in between long—very long and very dramatic—blinks.
Daryl assumed that Carol's response—given very matter-of-factly—was a reasonable response to his obviously horrifying suggestion that the baby should be condemned to the basket, which had been prepared especially for her, for the fifteen or so minutes that it would take them to consume food.
"You want me to hold her while you eat?" Daryl asked, changing his strategy and keeping firmly in mind some of the things that Melodye had said to him. "You gotta eat. That's not even up for negotiation, Carol."
Carol laughed to herself.
"I'm going to eat," Carol said. "She needs me to eat for her milk. But I can manage with one hand."
To demonstrate, she worked herself to shift positions in the bed so that she was sitting a little more upright against her pillows. She winced, once or twice, as she wiggled herself around, but Daryl didn't bother her with questions about what was wrong or making her uncomfortable. He'd seen the baby come into the world, and he knew exactly where stitches had been necessary to help with the bleeding, so he had no need to force Carol into discussing what exactly she might find uncomfortable for the next little bit.
Instead, he offered the only help that he had beyond the Tylenol that she'd already taken.
"You want one of them ice packs?" Daryl asked.
Carol smiled at him sincerely. The way she looked at him, for a moment, made his neck and face run warm. She looked at him like he'd offered her something wonderful and romantic—and not an ice pack to cool down regions of her body that he imagined were feeling quite furious about what they'd been asked to do while bringing their baby girl into the world.
"No," she said. "Not yet. Melodye was right. It'll heal better if I just—let it heal as much as possible. I don't want to restrict the blood flow too much."
"She said don't use it too much," Daryl said. "Not—don't use it at all."
"Later," Carol said. "Really—I'm fine right now. I just moved and—the stitches pulled."
Daryl grimaced involuntarily. Carol laughed quietly.
"Sorry," she offered.
"No…I just…"
Daryl didn't finish, and Carol didn't press him to finish. Once she was situated and comfortable, Daryl fixed it so that she could reach her food on the little table. He arranged his own plate in his lap and sat on the side of the bed to keep her company.
"Everyone in the whole place sends their congratulations," Daryl offered. "Hell—people I don't think I've ever even seen before was comin' up to me and sayin' that they were so happy things went well and that everybody's doin' good. They were tellin' me to give you their congratulations and all that, like I could remember everyone."
Carol smiled to herself while she ate, leaning a little to the side like she was trying to avoid spilling food on the baby if she dropped anything. Daryl got up and found a couple of towels. He draped one over Carol and the baby so that it somewhat shielded the baby from falling food. He ran the other from Carol to the table so that she wouldn't drop food in the bed.
"I should've just moved to sit on the edge of the bed," Carol said.
"If it's all the same to you," Daryl said, "I'd rather you just stayed like you are for a bit longer."
"Thank you for—taking care of me," Carol said.
Daryl didn't expect such a simple statement to make him feel like his face was burning warm again. Carol's appreciation was clearly genuine, though, and wholehearted.
"I told you I would," Daryl said, cramming a little more food into his mouth than he'd intended to try to give himself some excuse for not saying more. His throat was a little tight, so he immediately regretted his choice. He focused on very carefully chewing his food—more carefully than he could ever recall doing in the past—so that he would have time to get his throat to relax instead of choking to death on his dinner.
If Carol noticed his predicament, she let him keep his dignity and didn't say anything about it.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Carol offered after a long moment during which Daryl focused on not choking to death and Carol focused on shushing the few noises of discontent that the baby let out. Daryl watched her as she rearranged the little one, trying to find her a position that she liked better than her current one. Finally, settled against Carol's chest, the baby seemed satisfied.
"Always," Daryl offered.
"I feel a little—I don't know the right word," Carol said. Daryl let her have a moment of quiet to find it. Instead of interrupting her, he passed her the last of the rolls that they had left from the batch he'd brought for their meal. "Embarrassed? Uncomfortable?"
"Embarrassed about what? Uncomfortable like you want that ice pack uncomfortable or…?"
Carol laughed to herself. Her cheeks ran very visibly red.
"Like—I'm not used to someone taking such good care of me," Carol said. "And I feel—almost useless. Like I'm not doing anything or…I'm not taking care of you. I'm taking advantage or…"
She stammered out the words. The word that she couldn't find before suddenly came out in a rush of words now.
Daryl let her finish. He could feel that what she was saying was the truth. What she was dealing with made her feel uncomfortable. He wondered if the baby could feel it, too, because she suddenly stiffened and started to fuss. Carol directed her attention the little girl, and when she commented that she thought she might be wet, Daryl went over to the chair in the corner that was laden with the baby's things and brought Carol another diaper.
"Thank you," Carol breathed out.
"What else you need?"
"A damp rag," Carol said, almost sheepishly.
Daryl decided that he'd address her concerns, but he would only do so when he was able to sit down and be face-to-face with her again. He wet a rag and squeezed it out in the bathroom sink. When he brought it to Carol, he asked her if she was done with her food. Most of it was gone, anyway, and she said she was. While she tended the baby, Daryl cleared the food and plates away to carry, later, back down for washing and reusing.
When he came back into the bedroom from finishing his self-assigned task, Carol was clucking at the baby and patting her back, soothing over the suffering incurred by the changing of a dirty diaper.
Daryl sat down on the side of the bed next to her. He patted her leg under the blanket.
"I'ma start by sayin' that I understand what you're saying," Daryl said. "Because—sometimes, when you do things that I'm not used to…things I never had before? It makes me feel kinda warm. I guess embarrassed is the word, but it ain't like embarrassed like—I just fell down the porch steps 'cause I weren't paying attention. But it's just like—I don't know how to do this. I like it, but I don't know how to do it."
"What kinds of things?" Carol asked with a smile that turned up the side of her mouth.
Daryl licked his lips and reached for the glass of water he'd moved to the nightstand with Carol's water glass.
"When you make me feel like I do things right all the time," Daryl said. He felt his face burn warm just at the simple putting-together and spitting-out of the words. "Nobody ever—made me feel like I did a single fucking thing right before. You make me feel like everything I do is right."
Carol gave him that look—that soft look where her eyebrows just barely knitted together. That look always felt like it could penetrate straight inside Daryl's chest and squeeze his heart.
"I think that—maybe not everything, maybe that's impossible—but I think that almost everything you do is right, Daryl," Carol said.
Daryl laughed to himself. The renewed warmth surged into his face and the laughter was an insincere effort to keep from suffocating on the feeling.
"Then—you'll understand what I'm saying," Daryl said. "What I feel is just—how I feel. What you feel is how you feel. Carol…you been in labor for a long time. I don't think I coulda held out that long. And then…hell, I saw how she got here. I saw what you had to do. What you did. You said—she's my daughter…"
"Of course she is," Carol breathed out. "As long as—you want her."
Daryl simply nodded his head.
"You know I do," he said, to erase the slight sign of concern that crawled across Carol's features. "You don't gotta worry about that. Not ever, OK? My point is—you gave me a daughter. You did all that to give her a life and…you gave me a daughter. What the hell else kinda…payment…or whatever…do you think I need for…what? For handin' you a couple things you need and bringin' dinner so you could build your strength back up?"
Carol blew out her breath like she was focusing on stilling herself. She visibly relaxed into her pillows, and she rearranged the baby, again, that was whining quietly while she took in the world through eyes that were barely slits.
"I just don't want you to feel taken advantage of," Carol offered.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"And I'd kinda like it if you'd—take advantage of me, woman. Just a little. Just—for a couple days, OK?"
Carol smiled to herself. As she was relaxing with her secret out in the open and some of her fears allayed, Carol's own eyes began to grow visibly heavy. She sighed, almost seeming to let out the last of her stored-up energy with the exhalation.
"You promise you'll let me know if it's too much?"
"You got my word," Daryl said. "Now—how about you do somethin' for me? Even if I'm pretty sure you aren't gonna like it." Carol hummed at him in question. "Let me see her for a couple minutes. And you—close your eyes. Just for a bit."
Daryl saw the quick look flit across Carol's features and he didn't take it personally. She didn't fear him, and she didn't fear his taking care of the baby. What she feared, he was certain, was letting her brand-new daughter out of her sight. She did let him take the baby out of her arms, though. The baby opened her eyes, for a split second, at the changing of hands, but then she closed them again as soon as Daryl hugged her tight against his chest. She flexed her fingers, and Daryl felt every muscle in his body tense before he willed himself to relax.
As soon as she was settled, Daryl let out the breath he'd been holding. He gave Carol the best reassuring smile that he could.
"Please get just a little rest, OK? For me. Don't worry—we'll both be right here when you wake up."