AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

Firstly, I think a lot of people missed the last chapter, so please make sure you go back and read that one (and let me know what you think, if you've got a moment) before you read this one.

Secondly, I should let you know that it's time to start wrapping this one up. We're nearing the end of this one, so if you're one of those people who prepares yourself for such a thing, then you know it's coming!

I hope that you enjoy the chapter! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

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The first snow dropped a light layer of fine white powder over everything, but it was a warning of what was coming. The winter was on its way. There was a flurry of last-minute activity but, really, it was only the nervous energy of anticipation needing somewhere to escape. People had been waiting for the snow, and now it was here. Everything, though, was really as ready as it could possibly be and, short of the jobs that simply ran daily and without end, there was nothing special or critical that needed to be taken care of before Mother Nature covered everything over with a thick white blanket so that it could sleep until spring.

Daryl met Ezekiel outside of his house, and he stood smoking a cigarette and having an amiable conversation with the man.

They had reached an understanding. Beyond that, Daryl was pretty sure that the understanding could grow into something more. Now that he knew that Ezekiel Andrews was just an ordinary man who cared about animals and pretended to be a king to make people happy and to not feel quite so alone in the world, and now that Daryl knew that he was a man who had been willing to play impotent for years just to keep Carol from feeling obligated to anything she didn't want to do, Daryl felt like he understood him.

He felt like they could be friends—and he had had so few friends in his own life, which led him to truly understand Ezekiel's fear of being left alone in this world, that he could forgive his friends their idiosyncrasies; especially when they were willing to do the same for him.

When they went inside, Henry was sitting on the couch and waiting. He knew they were coming, and he knew what they were going to talk about. All of them. Man-to-man.

Daryl wasn't sure how to start things, so he was thankful when Ezekiel's propensity to give speeches kicked in to get the ball rolling.

"You're practically a man, Henry," Ezekiel said, his voice taking on the tone of a speech about to begin.

"Dad—I am a man," Henry corrected.

Ezekiel made a face at Daryl, and Daryl found himself stifling a laugh. He heard Ezekiel's words without hearing them—all of them.

"You're a man," Ezekiel corrected. "So, we thought you could…"

"Understand things like a man," Daryl interjected when Ezekiel faltered slightly, clearly finding it more difficult to talk to his son that it was to deliver over-the-top speeches to the people of their communities. "Listen—your dad and me? We've worked shit out. We get each other. We know what the hell matters, and that's all the hell that matters."

"I think I may have pushed you to feel angry with your mom," Ezekiel said. "And that was wrong of me. I wasn't handling my feelings well…"

"You don't deserve to have to deal with those feelings…" Henry said quickly. "Nobody deserves to have their wife just—leave them and their family for somebody else."

"It didn't exactly happen that way," Ezekiel said. "Look—it was an agreement your mother and I made when we started our relationship. I understood the terms of our agreement from the start. I guess, when it came time for her to move on, I just started to panic. She was leaving. You were leaving. I didn't want to be alone. I still don't want to be alone."

"But he ain't gonna be," Daryl said. "He can stay here as much as he likes. Pass the Kingdom on to someone else if he likes and stay here full time. Keep the house ready if he just wants to visit sometimes. Point is—he ain't gonna be alone, because he's got his people right here."

"Enid and I wouldn't—don't—want you to be alone," Henry said.

"And I won't," Ezekiel said. "But this? Despite the anger I was feeling out of fear, Henry, it isn't your mother's fault that…she did exactly what she told me she was going to do when we first started even talking about a relationship. I loved her enough to accept what she laid out for me. I love her enough that—I want to see her happy, above all else. And Daryl makes her happy."

"She never loved you," Henry said. "And when I look at Enid and I think about…things we're talking about? I think—what if she tells me that…she never loved me?"

"Hey—your ma loves your dad," Daryl said. "She does. Loves him a hell of a lot. Worries about him. It's just…different."

"I knew your mother loved Daryl from the beginning," Ezekiel said. "I knew the kind of love that she was willing to offer me, and the kind of love that she still offers me…even when I don't always feel like I deserve it. The love she has for Daryl? That's, I hope, a bit more what Enid feels for you."

"I don't know if that's the kind of love y'all feelin' or what," Daryl said. "But if it is…I don't think it's goin' nowhere. If all the shit your ma and I've been through weren't enough to break it?" Daryl shrugged and shook his head. "If that shit's real, I don't think it's goin' nowhere. But Carol ain't turning her back on Ezekiel, either."

"Daryl and I can agree that what's most important to both of us your mother," Ezekiel said. "You. Your sister. The future of this community. And all of us have a role within this community—Hillside, Alexandria, the Kingdom. We're all working toward the future. But, Henry? Don't punish your mother because you think it does something to help me. It doesn't. And she doesn't deserve that. You're one of the most important people in her life. Your happiness matters more to her than her own, and she's been struggling with the fact that, in choosing to be happy, herself, she may have caused you unhappiness. If I led you to feel that way, or to harbor any resentment toward her? I was wrong to do that."

"Look—I talked to Siddiq, and you can talk to Enid," Daryl said. "Though, I think Siddiq is tryin' to ease Enid into the hard shit. He don't say this shit to your ma because one of the best things for her, right now, is to be calm and relaxed, but…there are some circumstances about this pregnancy, I guess, that could mean that she might be at risk. That the baby might be at risk, too, but…especially Carol."

"What do you mean—at risk?" Henry asked.

Daryl's stomach tightened. He could feel, as well as see, Henry's sudden distress. Henry had wanted to protect Ezekiel. He wanted to protect Carol.

Henry didn't want to lose his parents in any way. He'd already done that once before.

"You mean like—she could die?" Henry asked when he didn't immediately get a response from either man present.

"She's not going to die," Ezekiel said quickly. "She's not going to die, and the baby's not going to die. They're both going to be healthy. That's why Siddiq's watching her so closely. But if one of the ways to help make sure that everything goes smoothly is just to help her relax? Daryl and I are committed to making that happen. We hope you'll join us."

"What do I need to do?" Henry asked.

"That's the beauty of it," Ezekiel said. "Just—be yourself."

"Just maybe a little less pissed off version of you," Daryl offered.

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Henry didn't offer explicit details about his change of heart, and Carol didn't force them out of him. He'd apologized if he'd upset her, and he'd asked if he and Ezekiel could be welcomed for things like breakfasts and dinners. She had extended an open-door invitation to the both of them with Daryl's blessing.

Carol also didn't ask Daryl about the details of his and Ezekiel's talk with Henry, and Daryl hadn't volunteered that information.

What Carol did know was that things changed rather quickly, and somewhat drastically. In the mornings, she grew accustomed again to the din of voices and the sounds of forks and spoons on plates. She grew accustomed to tight spaces and bodies bumping into each other without annoyance.

She found that she didn't mind being touched, especially not in those moments, when she felt like home, happiness, and family were all wrapped around her like a blanket against the cold of the winter that settled around them all.

Sometimes, too, Carol cooked dinners for everyone to enjoy. Michonne and Ezekiel would bring things from their kitchens to contribute, and they would pack the table and, later, the living room, until it was late enough that Michonne needed to shuffle the kids off to bed—her exit usually prompting everyone else to leave.

Tonight, nobody had arrived yet except for Henry. Daryl had gone to take Dog for a walk. At least, that's what he'd said, but Carol had caught onto the fact that he liked to try to give them time alone sometimes.

Carol stood tending pots at the stove, and she smiled when a pair of arms came around her and hugged her—clearly thrown off for a moment as they sought the right spot to squeeze above her belly. Henry's chin fit close against Carol's neck, and she tipped her head to the side enough to nuzzle his face with her own.

"I love my boy," she said, as much to herself as to Henry.

"Mom—I'm a man," Henry insisted. He pulled out of the hug, but hovered behind and to the side of her, as he often did in the kitchen.

"But you're always going to be my boy," Carol said. "My only boy."

A hint of a smile played at Henry's lips.

"Is she awake?" He asked.

Carol hummed in the affirmative.

"Can I?" Henry asked, stretching his hand out. Carol caught his hand and guided it to the spot above where it felt like his baby sister was practicing something akin to gymnastic tumbles.

"It's getting tight," Carol said. "Very, very tight. Every time she does that, I feel like—I can't get my breath."

Henry's face darkened.

"Do you need me to tell Siddiq or—Enid? That you can't breathe…"

Carol laughed and let go of his hand so that he could choose to keep it there or move it on his own.

"No," Carol said. "I don't mean I actually can't breathe. I just mean—it feels like there's not enough room for her and my lungs in there, not if they're going to be full of air. It just means that—she needs to come on out here and meet us soon. That's all."

Henry kept his hand there a moment longer, and then he brushed her stomach affectionately. Everyone seemed to have their own way of touching Carol's belly. Henry made her think of the familiar pats he gave to Dog's head when he wasn't sure how to interact with the animal that was, more often than not, begging for something to eat.

"Enid said four weeks," Henry said. He reached and pinched a bite of hot food from the pan where Carol was cooking. She swatted him, and he laughed. She wasn't sincerely mad, and she laughed, too.

"Siddiq wants her to stay and grow for four more weeks," Carol said. "We want her lungs to be as strong and developed as possible. And I can be patient. If it comes down to the two of us, I'd rather struggle to breathe for four more weeks than have her struggle for even a moment."

"How…would you feel about having grandkids that aren't too much younger than her?" Henry asked.

Carol raised an eyebrow at him, and she didn't bother trying to hold back her smirk. He looked slightly green, but she figured that was to be expected.

"Is there something I should know?" She asked.

"Not—that," Henry said. "Not exactly. It's just…we've been talking about things like the future and what we want. Kids and…to stay here in Alexandria because she can work with Siddiq and I'm doing OK with learning blacksmithing. And, I think I'm ready to ask her to marry me."

Carol grabbed him and hugged him, declaring her congratulations. She kissed the side of his face and he pushed her off affectionately and shushed her.

"Please don't say anything," he begged.

"I will never tell your secrets," Carol said. "But—I want to know immediately, if you ask her in private." He nodded his agreement. "And—I'll absolutely love having grandbabies that your sister can play with!"

Henry shushed her again.

"She's going to be here any minute," he insisted.

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. Do you have a ring?" Henry immediately produced it out of his pocket. "You carry it on you?" Carol asked, laughing quietly.

"Just in case," Henry said. He showed it to Carol. It was a plain band. "I made it," he explained. "It's sized to fit her finger, and I made it. Do you think she'll like it?"

"I think she'll think it's the most perfect ring ever made," Carol said. She grabbed Henry again and kissed the side of his face once more, despite his protests.

"Don't get too excited," Henry offered with a laugh. "You'll wind her up and then you won't be able to breathe."

Carol dropped her hand to her belly. The baby seemed to practically be just below her skin at this point. She could feel an elbow, a heel, or the baby's head if she searched it out. She could interact with her, even, and it made it that much more exciting to think that someday, relatively soon, she would hold her in her arms instead of in her belly.

"She's excited for you," Carol said. "And you better get used to it, because she's going to love her big brother—and her sister-in-law and nieces and nephews."

Carol winked at him and Henry turned red before rolling his eyes at her, snagging another piece of food from the pan with his fingertips, and disappearing into the living room to greet those who were making their way into the house, loudly declaring how cold it was outside, for a nice family evening.