AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

This is the second chapter of the day, so if you haven't read Chapter 10, make sure you go back and read that one BEFORE you read this one.

I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think!

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"Look at her tiny nose," Carol said.

Daryl kissed the side of Carol's head and leaned a little closer to her in the bed. With his arm around her shoulders, she was leaning in to him, too. She held the pictures out in front of her, propped against her knees.

Their room for the night was comfortable. Jesus made sure they had nothing less than the best. He jokingly called it the presidential suite in the main house of the Hilltop.

The whole afternoon had been spent with telling and retelling the story of Carol and Ezekiel. It seemed as soon as they'd explained, difficult as it was, what had happened there, someone else approached to ask about the whereabouts of the good king if his queen was at the Hilltop and expecting.

The news of the pregnancy travelled so fast that it met Daryl when he'd emerged from Michael's trailer. The first person that saw him, after talking with Michael and leaving with the promise that the man would borrow some horses to have his trailer towed to the Kingdom in the coming days, had told Daryl about Carol's pregnancy because they clearly knew nothing of their connection.

Carol had quickly grown clearly exhausted by the endless need to explain herself and the reaction of others who didn't know how to react at all. Some offered her sympathy. Some were confused and requested more clarification that they weren't even due. Some offered congratulations. But it was clear that everything they said, no matter what they chose, slowly drained Carol of whatever energy she'd stockpiled for the day.

Daryl had seen that she'd gotten a good meal, and then he'd seen about their room as early as possible. He'd left her resting in the room, munching her way through some snacks she'd acquired at the community storehouse, and he'd gone to get a few things of his own from the items they found and hoarded for whomever might find them useful or desirable.

Now, at least, Carol was reclining in bed with Daryl following their pre-bed baths.

His hope was that she would start to really relax.

"That's your nose," Daryl said.

Carol smiled.

"It is not," she protested.

"It is," Daryl insisted. "That right there? Is this nose right here."

When he touched her nose, she crinkled it up in the way that she did when she truly, sincerely smiled and Daryl's body reacted with nervous pleasure over the fact that he could make her smile like that. Now, more than ever before, he wanted to make her smile like that forever. And if adoring the pictures for hours was what it took to do that, Daryl had all night—and the night was still very, very young as evidenced by the light that still shone through the windows.

Carol caressed the tiny nose in the picture like she was actually able to caress the baby's nose that way. As soon as Daryl had found her after her appointment, he'd found her showing the pictures off to Tara. She'd looked concerned, though, and her hand had always been just an inch or so away from Tara—no matter where she turned to more closely examine the picture—like she would snatch them back in an instant. Daryl had never seen Carol react in such a way over anything material. She was the most giving person he knew. Anyone who ever said that someone would give the shirt off their back metaphorically had never known Carol.

Things were just things.

But suddenly, some things were precious.

And she'd mentioned, more in mumbled explanation to herself than any real declaration to Daryl, that she feared the pictures would get smudged or destroyed.

She had transferred some of her fears about the fragility of the child she carried over to the fragility of the pictures. Daryl hadn't hesitated. He'd gone directly to one of the common storehouses and found a suitable frame. The pictures fit perfectly inside it and, as a result, they were protected.

Carol and anyone else who wanted to touch them could touch them as much as they pleased.

Carol slid her finger from the baby's nose and let it cover her mouth.

"Her tiny little mouth," Carol said.

"That's yours, too," Daryl said.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Now I know you're just giving me a hard time, Daryl," Carol said. "Am I bothering you?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You're not! I'm not. Look—I'm lookin' at your profile right now, Carol. I'm lookin' at her profile. I'm tellin' you that this kid is her mama's kid. She's the spittin' image of you."

"We can't see things clearly," Carol said.

"Clear enough," Daryl said. "I mean—I don't even know she's mine except…I mean I know she's not Ezekiel's. Because he's just fancy enough that, if it was his kid? He'd figure out how to have her have a lil' bitty crown sittin' right there on top of her head."

"Don't be mean, Daryl," Carol scolded. It wasn't sincere. "She's yours. Look—that's your chin."

"What the hell's a chin look like anyway?" Daryl said with a laugh. Carol frowned, though, and he wondered if she might accidentally take the teasing a little too much to heart. "Hell—I guess…I guess it could be my chin."

"She is yours," Carol said softly.

Daryl kissed the side of her face and then he touched her chin to turn her face toward him. He stole a quick kiss from her that she wasn't prepared for, and then he went back for a second that she returned. He brushed his finger over her cheek and tucked some stray hair back behind her ear where it hadn't made it into the braid she'd created.

"I know she's mine," Daryl said. "I'm just teasing you."

"Maybe—I don't…want that," Carol said.

It was rare that Carol spoke up to tell anyone what she liked or didn't like. She would stand up to anyone that she felt like she needed to face off with to protect others, but when it came to standing up for herself in simple, everyday situations, she tended to keep quiet and accept that life would simply happen to her as it happened.

Daryl appreciated that she was telling him something that she didn't care for.

"Then I won't never do it again," he assured her. "Promise. And—I'm sorry I done it then."

"I'm not mad," Carol said. "Please don't think I am."

"I don't think you're mad," Daryl said. "And you have the right to say what you don't like to be teased about. I shouldn'ta said it. She's mine and I know it."

He reached and tapped the frame.

"But the fact remains that she looks like her mama," Daryl said. "It's a good thing, though. She's got a…got good genes. Got a real pretty mama." He winked at her. "So pretty—I hear tell that like…most the men left in the world are fightin' over her." Carol frowned at him and he shook his head. "Not that either?"

"I'm sorry," Carol breathed out. "I know you're just trying to have fun…and I appreciate it because when you're silly, and when you let me be silly? It helps. It's just…"

"Too much going on right now," Daryl offered. Carol hummed and nodded. "Too soon to tease about it. And that's fine. And if it ain't never not too soon? There's plenty else to be silly about if silly's what you want right now."

Carol sucked in a deep breath, let it out with a sigh, and snuggled into Daryl. She leaned her head against him.

"Silly," she said. "Sweet. I just want something that makes it feel like there's not this huge weight on my chest. Just—for a little while."

Daryl rubbed his face against her head and touched the picture again, drawing her attention to the profile picture of the baby sucking her fingers.

"That right there—see? That's when I know she's mine," Daryl said.

Carol hummed.

"You chew on your nails and your cuticles when you're nervous, or bored, or thinking," Carol said. Daryl could hear the smile returning to her voice even if he couldn't see it. "And she sucks on her fingers when she's nervous."

"Or shy," Daryl said. "We don't know. Maybe she was just tired. Ain't wanted to be bothered. Her mama gets kinda nervous too, though." Carol hummed at him. "We gotta work on that. For her, but for you, too. If you won't do it for you, though, you gotta do it for her. Relax."

"How can I relax?" Carol asked. "When I feel like—there's always this black cloud just behind me. Whenever anything's good? It gets taken away. It always does."

"Except now," Daryl said. "I'm not going anywhere, Carol. Ezekiel's not going anywhere. We're stuck with him for the rest of our lives. And he's probably talking to Henry as we speak. He'll probably be at the house like as soon as we get back and then he'll be excited to know he has a little sister on the way. He'll be ready to stay with you. Take care of you for a change. He's not going anywhere. And she's healthy."

"Her weight is low," Carol said. "And she's small."

"And her mother is small and her weight is low," Daryl said. "So, we'll feed both of you. But she's strong and you're strong and that's good news."

Carol snuggled against him again, rubbing him with her body in an attempt to get as close as the laws of space allowed. He met her with the same enthusiasm.

For years, he'd dreamed of being this close to her. He'd dreamed of having her desire to be this close to him. One way or another, though, he'd always managed to sabotage actually having that happen for any length of time.

He wasn't going to do that anymore.

Carol hummed and brushed her finger across the pictures again.

"Look at her tiny little fingers," Carol mused.

Daryl laughed to himself and kissed the side of her head.

"You gonna sleep with the pictures tonight?" He asked.

"I might," Carol teased, picking up on the teasing in his tone.

"I'm glad they make you happy," Daryl said. "Give you—somethin' to hold onto. Somethin' to look at."

"I just like seeing her," Carol said.

"I like seein' her too," Daryl said. "Can't wait 'til we get to really see her."

"I can wait," Carol said. "I can wait—as long as she needs."

"You know what I mean," Daryl said. He reached his fingers out and pinched the frame between them. "Still—I think this frame here, so that you can touch the pictures as much as you want? I think this frame is probably the best gift I ever give you."

Carol let the frame rest against her knees. She turned to Daryl and offered him a smile. The smile sent a shiver through him.

"Not the best gift," she said.

"No?" Daryl asked.

"No," she assured him. She reached for his hand and he let her have it. She rested it on her belly and reached the other hand over to run her fingertips through his hair before she caught his face and kissed him. The kiss told him exactly what he needed to know about what was on her mind for ways to pass a little of the night. He indulged her and kissed her back with as much as enthusiasm as she showed him. "This is the greatest gift you've given me," Daryl," Carol said when she pulled their lips apart. "She's the greatest gift you've given me."

Daryl took her picture frame and moved it out of the way. He put it on the nightstand directly beside her so that she could have it whenever she may need it. Then he turned his body and invited himself over to share her space. He brought their lips back together even as he let his hands start to explore her body and to start waking her up to his touch.

She kissed him and spread her legs to give him a place to put his knee. She made room for him to come closer to her and take his place entirely over her.

Daryl had never been more annoyed than he was the moment that there came a loud knock on the door.

"It's Dr. Michael," the man said through the door.

Daryl pulled off of Carol and sunk back against his pillow. She laughed to herself and dabbed at her lips with her fingers. Neither of them was entirely without a little raggedness to their breathing.

"Come in," Carol called out. "It's not locked."

"Only 'cause we couldn't figure out how," Daryl muttered.

Michael opened the door and came in. Under his arm, he carried a blood pressure cuff, and around his neck he wore his stethoscope.

"Am I interrupting anything?" He asked.

"Kinda," Daryl offered.

"No," Carol said. "Please…come in."

"I just wanted to get a few readings before bed," Michael said. "Jesus said you'd been up here a while and you'd had a little time to relax. I thought it might be the best time to see what we could consider some resting readings."

From his pocket he produced the thermometer wrapped in a handkerchief. Carol accepted it under her tongue, but Daryl didn't miss the way she rolled her eyes in his direction. She accepted that her blood pressure was taken, and she bared her chest for Michael to listen to her heartbeat. When he was done, he read her temperature, rolled the thermometer back in its cloth, and returned it to his pocket.

"Even at a resting point, your pulse is erratic," Michael said. "Your temperature is elevated, and your blood pressure is high. I'm afraid that—I'm beginning to worry that it's chronic and not circumstantial."

"Before you lecture me," Carol said. "I was more relaxed before."

"Something happened?" Michael asked. "Another panic attack?"

"Nothin' of the like," Daryl offered. He cleared his throat. "The baby's OK, right? I mean, I get it—as far as you know." Michael nodded. "Nothin' that we would do…nothin' normal…would hurt it, right?"

Michael furrowed his brow at Daryl, glanced at Carol, and then raised his eyebrows. Everything, all at once, dawned on him. He smiled.

"Do you mean intercourse?" He asked. Daryl barely grunted. He wasn't comfortable discussing such things, really, but he figured that the doctor had to know how the hell they'd gotten the baby in the first place, and he'd rather have the official OK on things than not. "Unless there were some underlying circumstances, intercourse would not interfere with the development of the baby in any way. In fact, when a woman reaches climax, she releases a chemical that can be very helpful in lowering blood pressure."

Daryl cleared his throat.

"Well, see—we were just about to start lowering some blood pressure when you come in," Daryl said. "And sometimes heartbeats an' all—they gotta get a little faster before they sort of steady out."

Michael laughed to himself.

"I see," he said. "By all means—continue. But remember, it's the chemical that's released that helps the most."

"Think we got it," Daryl offered.

Michael stood up, but he did pat Carol's shoulder.

"You're insisting on leaving tomorrow?" He asked. "You won't stay and let me monitor things a few more days?"

"I'll rest better in my house," Carol said. "And—I need to see my son."

"Things are about to get a whole lot calmer," Daryl said. "But we gotta get back."

"I'll be in the Kingdom within the month," Michael said. "But—I'll see you at breakfast, before you go, at any rate." He looked at Daryl. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"At least you answered my question," Daryl said.

Michael laughed to himself.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured him. He pointed to Carol. "And you? Try not to worry about anything."