AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Maybe the baby she carried made her tired. Maybe it was simply carrying a baby at her age that assured that she had relatively little energy before it was dramatically late in the evening. Maybe it was simply because, for once, absolutely everything was right in her world for just a single moment, and her body was seeking to relax entirely in the precious peace that she'd found.

Or maybe it was simply because Daryl had seen to it that she ate her way through a large helping of casserole, a large helping of cobbler, and then he'd had her wash it all down with a second mug of warm milk. The result of which was that, almost full to bursting, Carol was entering into something of a food coma.

Whatever the reason, she stretched out on the couch with her body against Daryl's. He held her as much in his arms as he possibly could. He vaguely had to piss, and one of his legs was somewhat going to sleep, but he'd stay in just that position for the rest of the night if she'd remain there, like that, curled up in his arms.

Her eyes were barely slits. Her eyelids were visibly heavy. With her head resting against him, though, she seemed content to hover just outside of sleep.

Daryl moved the one hand he felt wasn't supporting her to rest it on her belly, under the blanket. He spread his fingers out and covered the majority of the bump that marked the presence of their growing daughter. Carol sucked in a breath and sighed it out, slowly and steadily, before she covered his hand with her own. Daryl smiled to himself and at her by extension.

"Hard to believe she's there," Daryl said.

"She's there," Carol breathed out.

"She's growin'," Daryl offered.

"That's mostly just food," Carol said, yawning to close out her words.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"But it's the food that's gonna help her grow," Daryl said. "You keep eatin' like that an' she's gonna be big and strong."

"If I keep eating like that," Carol said, "I'm going to be huge. I don't know about her."

"This ain't the damned time to worry about dieting," Daryl said. "You eat anything and everything she wants. Everything you want. Long as we got it."

Carol rooted into him a bit more.

"Are you happy she's a…girl?" Carol asked.

Daryl heard hesitation in her voice. She stammered over the word in a way that made his stomach muscles bunch in reaction. Under the blanket, he moved his fingers enough to find the bottom of the shirt she was wearing—his shirt turned hers—and he slipped it up enough to let his fingertips touch her warm, bare skin.

Beneath her skin, perhaps not too far that he couldn't feel the baby if he knew what he was feeling for, the tiny figure he'd seen sucking her fingers and trying to hide was sleeping. However she went about doing the things she needed to do, she was drinking in the nutrition that her mother would provide to her from the filling meal. She was enjoying the relaxed vibes her mother was putting out, and, maybe, she was hopeful for a hit of the hormone that theoretically made both of them feel at least a little euphoric.

Daryl didn't know if the baby had any actual sentience or if, in reality, she was just some kind of unthinking creature that didn't have any actual consciousness until she came into the world. But it made him happy to think of her as being fully aware and fully an individual.

"I think about Judith," Daryl said. "When she was born and…what she is now. I think about Sophia." He noticed Carol's shifting as she readjusted herself and he didn't complain that she reminded him of his rapidly filling bladder. "I couldn't imagine her being anything else. You want me to be honest? When we went in there, I didn't know what I wanted one way or another. Hell—I don't think I had even really accepted that there was a real baby growin' inside you and that it could really be mine."

"But you do now?" Carol asked.

"I saw her," Daryl said, smiling to himself. "Same as you. I can't deny what I saw."

"And now you're happy she's…you didn't want a boy?" Carol asked.

"Once I knew she was a girl," Daryl said, "I realized that's what I wanted all along. I just didn't know it."

"Ed would have preferred if Sophia had been a boy," Carol said. "He would have preferred to have a junior, you know?"

"Don't half the people alive care what anybody's name is these days," Daryl offered. "And I don't give a shit if anybody remembers me or my last name. It ain't like Dixon's no amazing name to have, I guess. Plenty of bad shit connected to it, I guess."

"I like it," Carol offered. "Daryl Dixon. It's a beautiful name to me."

Daryl smiled to himself.

"It'd sound better if—you were to take it," Daryl said. "Carol Dixon don't sound too bad."

Carol laughed to herself.

"Carol Dixon?"

"You prefer Her Majesty?" Daryl asked, a little offended by her tone of voice. Carol pulled away from him and sat up, sitting beside him on the couch. She raised her eyebrows at him half in amusement and half in warning that she intended to scold him if necessary.

"What I'd prefer is if you didn't throw that in my face every time you got the chance," Carol responded. Daryl felt the sting of her words.

Now that his hands were free and there was a small plot of couch between them, Daryl held his hands up in mock surrender.

"I gotta piss," he warned Carol, "but when I get back, we gonna continue this. I ain't throwin' nothin' in your face. Just—tellin' you I wish you'd at least consider…ya know…takin' my name. Usin' it."

Daryl got up and opened the door to the house. He let Dog out since the animal immediately bounded toward the door. He stepped out onto the porch and followed the dog into the yard. He chose his own spot to piss in the dark yard while Dog ran around and did his business before a quick border patrol of the whole fenced in area.

Around them, Daryl heard nothing but silence. He smelled nothing but the smoke of the fireplace drifting out the chimney.

Maybe Carol was a touch hormonal and a touch too defensive, but Daryl decided that he wasn't going to point that out to her. He also wasn't going to use that as a way of dismissing her entirely. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did have a few lingering bitter feelings over the fact that anyone had had some of her affections in the past.

When he whistled for Dog, the dog came back and happily bounded up the steps and into the house. He went directly to the bed in front of the fire that Carol had made for him. Daryl lit one of the lamps they carried around and went directly into the kitchen to wash his hands in the pot full of washing water that waited there.

Carol was gone, but not for long. She emerged from the dark bedroom with a pair of gray knit pants covering her legs. She washed her hands in the same pot that Daryl had used. She likely had gone to piss in the bathroom bucket instead of pissing in the yard like Daryl.

Daryl dried his hands on his pants and then he touched her face, brushing a piece of her hair back and tucking it behind her ear.

"You really pissed at me?" He asked.

"I just wish you'd give me time to—to think. To speak. Before you're ready to throw everything into my face."

"That's fair," Daryl offered. "Just—I get jealous sometimes. You were married to Ed. Then you did whatever the hell you were doin' with Tobin."

"You weren't interested," Carol said. "No matter how hard I tried. There never had to be a Tobin."

"I wasn't ready," Daryl said.

"And I needed something," Carol said. She wouldn't look at him. "You know I didn't love him."

"Which one we talkin' about?" Daryl asked.

"Tobin," Carol said. "Ed at the end. I loved him when we got married, though. I won't lie about that."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Daryl said. "I wouldn't hold it against you if you loved Tobin. Hell—at least I'd know you were happy."

"I wanted you," Carol said simply. "But you didn't want me."

"I always wanted you," Daryl said. "I just didn't know what the hell to do about it." Carol looked at him. The flame flickering in the little lamp on the table reflected the tears puddling in her eyes. Daryl reached his hand up and touched her face. "Can we leave the past where the hell it is? Just for a while? Not spend half the damn night diggin' up bones? I wouldn't trade this…what's comin'? For all them years I was too damned dumb to have."

She covered his hand with hers and leaned her face into him. He felt the warm tear that escaped her eye and slid down her face to touch against his palm. She turned her face and kissed his palm where the tear had trailed.

"You want me to take your name?" She asked. He hummed at her.

"Not like nobody would care or know," Daryl said. "But…"

"We would know," Carol offered.

"We would," Daryl agreed. "I'd want the baby to take my name too, even if—she weren't a Junior."

Carol smiled at him. She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand when she moved her face away from his hand. He dropped that same hand to her shoulder to squeeze at her muscles.

"I think—I wanted her to be a boy," Carol said.

"You ain't happy with her?" Daryl asked. "Because she ain't a boy? You don't want her or something?"

Carol shook her head.

"It isn't that," she said. "It isn't anything like that…but…"

"Go ahead," Daryl urged when Carol hesitated. She excused herself a moment to rummage through a drawer near her and to come up with one of the cloth napkins that was little more than a handkerchief. She wiped at her face. "What is it, if it ain't that?" Daryl pressed.

"Boys live," Carol said.

"What?" Daryl asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders at him and frowned at her handkerchief.

"I lost Sophia," Carol said. "But—Lori never lost Carl as a child. No matter how much he disappeared or ran away or…did what he wanted to do. The world never got to him. He got to grow up. But the world—it got to Lizzie. And Lizzie got to Mika. And…I lost them all. I thought I'd lose Henry, but…thank God I haven't. Thank God he's a boy and he's…he's made it…"

Daryl wrapped his arms around Carol and pulled her close to him. She came awkwardly, but she allowed him to hold her.

"None of 'em lived or died 'cause they were boys or girls," Daryl offered. "Not one of 'em. It was just the world, Carol. It was what the hell was gonna happen. Good luck and bad."

Carol pulled away and frowned deeply at Daryl. She ran her hand over the swell of her belly. She left it resting over the spot where their daughter was, hopefully, napping and not experiencing the same suffering that her mother was currently undergoing.

"It's me. If it's just luck, Daryl—I have bad luck with girls," Carol said.

"No," Daryl said, shaking his head at her. "That ain't true."

"It is true," Carol said. "And now—she's…"

"She's fine," Daryl said. "Needs to get bigger. Needs to grow more. But you got her tucked in there safe and sound." He shook his head at her. "And Judith—she's doin' just fine. You had as big a hand in carin' for her as anybody."

"She's got everybody else," Carol said.

"And her?" Daryl asked, gesturing toward Carol's belly. "She's got a whole fuckin' Kingdom ready to rise up an' fight for her ass. Got a Mama that's the strongest woman I've ever known." Carol shook her head at him, but Daryl ignored her. "And the name might not mean a lot," Daryl said, "and it might not have produced fuckin' kings, but there's one thing Dixons are—and that's some tough damn individuals. Can't nobody kill a Dixon but a Dixon." The words seemed to calm Carol a little. Slowly some of the tension released itself from her face. Daryl smiled at her, hoping to bring her around to the lightness she'd enjoyed earlier. He reached his hand out and touched her face. She flinched slightly. She hadn't flinched away from him in a long time. Tonight was waking up a lot of old demons. He gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. "What you say?" He asked. "You gonna be a Dixon, too? I don't know nobody that could carry the name—or carry a future Dixon, for that matter—better…"

"Does that mean you want me to be your wife?" Carol asked.

Daryl smiled to himself. Everything about her flooded his senses with happiness—real happiness. Even dealing with the troubles of their pasts together didn't seem so bad if he could do it with her.

"You're already my best friend," he said. "My fuckin' life. So whatever else you wanna be…"

Carol smiled at him. She leaned forward and he tasted the kiss she pressed to his lips. He smiled at her when she pulled away.

"That a yes?" He asked, catching her hands in his.

"I think—we're as married as we can be," Carol said. "Unless—you want a big show of things? You want to—give a…two-hour long speech like His Majesty?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I'd rather skip the speech and take my wife to bed," Daryl offered. He patted her stomach. "If you think—she's asleep an' it won't bother her."

Carol smiled at him.

"About that," she said, breathing out the words and holding his eyes with her own. Her eyes glittered in the lamplight and Daryl could see that she was watching him without blinking. She wanted to see his reaction. Maybe she even feared it a little. "I—might've lied before. Because I was scared."

"About?" Daryl asked, his stomach churning with the possibility.

"I can feel her," Carol admitted. "Not all the time and—not too strong, but I can feel her."

Daryl laughed at the relief that washed over him that the confession wasn't something horrible.

"Why'd you lie about it?" Daryl asked.

"Because I was scared," Carol admitted. "And I was scared that—if I admitted I could feel her, then I had to admit she was real and…it would hurt more when…"

Daryl nodded his understanding and shushed her to stop her before she could say something that would only hurt her more—and would hurt him to hear. He looped his arm around her before he reached for the lamp.

"She's real," Daryl said. "And you ain't kryptonite. She movin' now?"

"A little bit," Carol admitted. "I think."

"Then let's go to bed," Daryl said. "Enjoy it. You can tell me—all about it. Where you feel it. What it feels like. And then, when she's gone on off to sleep? We'll see if we can't get her a shot of oxytocin to help her sleep better."

Carol laughed at him and leaned into him as she walked.

"Daryl…" She said.

"Hmmm," he hummed.

"Thanks for making me feel better," she offered sincerely.

"Did it work?"

"I think it did," Carol said.

"You still scared?" Daryl asked.

"A little," she admitted.

Daryl laughed to himself and squeezed her.

"Fine," he said. "Because I'm fuckin' terrified."

Carol laughed instead of being offended. She stopped walking and he looked at her, holding the lamp so that it illuminated her face.

"Are you serious?" She asked.

"I'm so damned scared I could piss myself. I have a home, a wife, a dog, a step-son…and a baby girl on the way. I've got everything I ever could have wanted, and I don't have a fuckin' clue what I'm doing right now."

Carol smiled warmly. It was sincere, and Daryl felt it in his chest.

"Don't worry," she said. He felt, too, that she meant it. She might be falling apart herself, but for him she could be strong. "We'll figure it out together."

"Damn sure will," Daryl offered, pushing her toward the bedroom.