AN: Here we go, another chapter here.

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

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Giving her body a moment to simply adjust to everything that was happening left Carol feeling like every limb weighed fifty or sixty pounds. It hadn't been that long, in a matter of hours, since she'd woken that morning. Her body, though, didn't believe that. It felt like she'd been awake for days.

It was overwhelming. All of it was.

She'd gone from fearing for her own life and for Daryl's life, sure that neither of them would live to see the end of the day, to discovering that they would both live and the two babies she carried were healthy. Her daughter—whom she'd been told was lost to the world entirely—was returned to her in the metaphorical sense and would be returned to her physically soon.

They had changed homes and Carol had seen, firsthand, the special proof that Sophia was truly real and she'd truly be coming back to Carol, even though she'd be so very different than Carol recalled when she brought her face to mind.

And Carol worried, really, what it might be like to see her daughter again after all these years. She feared learning what her daughter's life had been like. She feared finding out just what she hadn't been able to protect her from.

Carol was exhausted and reminded that she had felt, for a very long time, like she failed her daughter. And she was afraid to fail her again, just like she was afraid to fail the tiny lives entrusted to her now as well.

She needed something happy. She needed something nice. She needed something easy and comfortable.

The greatest happiness they could expect, at the moment, would be to open the door to the nursery and take in their "surprise". Just behind the door, there would be something that would reveal another piece of their personal little puzzle to them. They would have a little something more to contribute to the faces of the babies. Babies that they were told, now, were healthy and theirs to keep.

Carol found that she was nervous when she rested her hand on the doorknob, but she was excited too. Her body almost protested the drain of energy that the excitement threatened when pure exhaustion had already taken so much out of her.

Daryl looked nervous. He looked tired, too. His eyes were almost bloodshot and his eyelids looked heavy. Like her, he'd run a gamut of emotions and Carol was sure that he was probably crashing after he'd very nearly stared his own death in the face that morning. He was exhausted, too, but he wanted the surprise. He wanted faces to go with the little ones that he'd shown he was more than willing to die to try to protect.

And Carol really wanted the surprise as much for him as for herself.

"You want to open it?" Carol asked.

"Go ahead," Daryl instructed.

Carol turned the knob and opened the door.

The furniture that she'd ordered was in the room. It was set up. Two cribs stared back at Carol, proof that she was welcoming two new babies into this room as surely as she was welcoming her nearly grown daughter into the other. Her heart kicked up a notch as she realized the almost absurd nature of it. Her daughter was nearly a woman. Her babies were still growing in her womb.

It was little wonder that she was exhausted.

As soon as she took in the little surprise for them, though, Carol felt a strange flood of peace. It was OK. It was fine. It would all be OK and—one way or another? They would get through it. They'd play the game, as Alice suggested they were all doing, and they'd win somehow.

And it would be worth it. Even the exhaustion that they felt would be worth it.

Staring head on at the proof of her impending return to motherhood, Carol felt oddly at peace. Her daughter was grown and her babies were growing and healthy. And one day, she'd have them all there, under the very same roof where, if she was lucky, she would spend at least a good portion of her life with a man who loved her enough to die for her and their family—even if she hoped he never had to.

Carol walked over to one of the cribs and took the blanket hanging over the side of it between her fingers. She rubbed the soft fabric for a second before she leaned over the side of the crib to touch her fingers to the fabric of the few soft outfits that were folded there, and then she touched them to the fur of the delicately colored bunny rabbit sitting in the crib.

Daryl was quiet and Carol turned to look at him to see how he might be feeling about things. She was surprised to find him, when she turned around, standing there with his brow furrowed even more deeply before. Honestly, he looked angry enough to bite someone and it immediately made Carol's stomach churn. She felt, for just a moment, like all the blood was draining out of her body.

"You're not happy?" Carol asked.

"Hell no," Daryl barked.

Carol jumped.

"But—why, Daryl?" Carol asked. "I thought you'd be happy."

He looked unhappy enough that Carol's stomach fluttered in response to his mood.

"Melodye said we was gonna find out what we got. Boys or girls and we'd know it as soon as we come in here," Daryl said. "I wanted to know what the hell we got."

Carol glanced around her. She swallowed. Daryl was madder about whatever perceived issue there was than he'd been about anything except the possibility that they might take their babies away. Carol wondered, though, if it might simply be the fact that he was still riding the wave of every chemical his brain had likely released into his body over the past few days and it was clouding his perception a little.

"What did you want, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"I wanted to fuckin' know!" Daryl barked. "But we come in here and it ain't nothin' but more games. Nothin' sayin' it's boys. Nothin' sayin' it's girls. Just baby stuff everywhere."

Carol nodded her head. She was relaxing a little. Daryl was frustrated and the feelings he was still trying to work through were bubbling out, but he wasn't mad at her. He wasn't mad at the babies. In fact, Carol wasn't sure if Daryl even knew quite what he was mad about.

"The baby stuff is what tells us, Daryl," Carol offered softly. "See? Blankets and clothes and..." She smiled to herself. She picked up the small rabbit and offered it in Daryl's direction. "And sweet little bunnies for the babies."

Daryl took the rabbit. He held it in his hands and stared at with the same intensity that he'd been looking at everything else. With so much anger and frustration behind his gaze, Carol half expected the rabbit to speak and confess its sins to him. Then he sighed and his shoulders slumped forward almost like someone invisible had smacked him on the back to save him from choking on his rage. His face fell.

"It's all just mixed together," Daryl said. "Kind of an asshole thing to do."

And, suddenly, it hit Carol.

Daryl was exhausted and, in that exhaustion, he'd expected something practically black and white. He'd forgotten that sometimes there was room in the world for a little gray. Carol suddenly felt relieved. She walked over to the other crib and plucked the bunny out of it before she stepped to stand in front of Daryl who was still staring at the little pink one in his hand like it had betrayed him.

"Daryl," Carol said, "we're having twins, right?"

He looked at her and Carol couldn't decide if she wanted to frown because he looked crushed at the moment or smile because she knew that he was going to feel so much better as soon as he realized the error of his tired brain.

"Yeah," Daryl said.

Carol brushed her fingers against his cheek because she felt the sudden urge to touch him—to try to wipe away his disappointment even before she relieved it for him.

"Two babies," Carol said.

"I know that, Carol," Daryl said.

Carol nodded her head at him.

"What could we have gotten?" Carol asked. "What—did you think the babies might be?"

"Girls or boys, Carol, it ain't that complicated," Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself and quickly stifled the laugh.

"Girls or boys," Carol repeated. "So two girls or—two boys."

Daryl nodded.

"But what else?" Carol asked.

"I'm hopin' to hell there ain't nothin' else," Daryl said. "Honestly? For a minute there they had me scared as shit as to what might be goin' on in there."

Carol shook her head at Daryl.

"What's the other combination?" Carol asked.

She reached and took the pink bunny out of Daryl's hand. She held the two up in front of him and danced them around, their floppy ears swinging side to side with her silly little dance.

Daryl stared at her, his brows furrowing again, and then very slowly the concern melted away and his frown lines softened. When he looked at Carol, his eyes widening slightly, Carol smiled at him and nodded her head.

"Uh huh," Carol said. "They didn't lie to us. We got one blue crib—with all little blue things. And we got one pink crib—with all little pink things. Because just boys or just girls? Apparently that wasn't good enough for you. You had go and be complicated and decide—you wanted both."

"You're serious?" Daryl asked.

"I'm serious," Carol said.

"I didn't even know—I really just was thinkin' they'd be the same thing," Daryl said. "Like—you know just..."

"Identical," Carol said. "But our babies were never going to be identical, Daryl. The way that Alice did this? Because—really she's the one that helped us get here. The way she did this was just make it so that, essentially, I got pregnant twice but—at the same time. Just like having two entirely different babies, just at the same time. They're brother and sister, but they aren't identical. And you—well, you stepped up to the test. She helped get it started and you got me pregnant...twice at the same time." Carol laughed to herself. "And you apparently weren't going to go with something as boring as two girls or just two boys."

Daryl laughed. He was breathing heavier than before, clearly relieved and, perhaps, a little excited.

"I don't know why the hell you say it was me," Daryl said. "Seems to me that you were in on it too."

"I'm just carrying them," Carol said. "But it's you who decided what they'd be."

"You serious?" Daryl asked.

Carol nodded.

"It's the Daddy who makes that decision," Carol said. "You don't really get in any say in it, but...it's, you know, your input that decides."

Daryl stared at her for a minute and then he laughed.

"Merle always said that Dixon men just made boys," Daryl said with a laugh.

"Well, he was half right," Carol said. "Because..." She wiggled the pink bunny at Daryl, making it do the dance from side to side. Daryl reached and took both the rabbits out of her hands. He held them in front of him for a second, admiring them. Then he opened his arms to Carol and she sunk into him and accepted his hug. "I wonder what Merle and Sadie will get," Carol said.

"A boy, I reckon," Daryl said. "If they's just one. I'm just hopin' to hell that it don't turn out to have the wild gene they lookin' for."

"I've got a feeling it won't," Carol said. "I've got a feeling—none of the babies will. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking."

Carol squeezed Daryl before she released him and then he put the rabbits back in their matching cribs before he took a moment to examine the other little items that had been placed around the room. Now understanding why the room was decked out in pink and blue, he looked a little more relaxed. And with that relaxation, Carol could see even more evidence of his exhaustion on his features.

"Are you happy, Daryl?" Carol asked. "That there's a boy and a girl?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Daryl asked.

"Because it's not what you wanted, maybe," Carol said. "I guess—it makes me a little nervous just to remember. Sophia's father wasn't too excited that she was a girl."

Daryl stopped examining items and came over to Carol. He rubbed his finger under her chin and then he kissed her, his hand sliding around to rub at the skin just behind her ear. When he pulled away, he shook his head at her.

"I like girls as much as I like boys," Daryl said. "One of my favorite people in the whole world—she just happens to be a girl. And on top of that? She's carryin' two of my kids—which happen to be a whole damn mixed bag."

Carol smiled at him.

"Sounds like you're pretty fond of her," Carol said.

"Pretty damn amazed by her, really," Daryl said. He swallowed. "Can't always breathe around her, but she don't hold it against me too much."

"Should I be jealous?" Carol asked.

"Would be pretty damn complicated," Daryl said. "I'll let you in on a secret—it's you."

Carol laughed.

"You're pretty impressive yourself," Carol said. "But—I'm going to beg you not to scare me again like you did this morning, OK? I don't want to lose you, Daryl. I can't lose you."

"I can't make no promises," Daryl said. "'Cause I meant what I said. I can't promise that nothin' never happens to you—but they gonna have to go through me first."

Carol sucked in a breath against the sharp pain that jolted through her chest at the thought. Daryl furrowed his brow at her.

"You OK?" He asked.

"I just don't—I don't want to lose you," Carol said.

"You ain't," Daryl said quickly. "You ain't. Just breathe, Carol. I'm right here. Not goin' anywhere."

Carol hugged him again and he stood there, in the brightly colored room designed to make them feel happy, and held her. And, slowly, Carol did feel her happiness returning, whether or not it had anything to do with the room.

"I'm really tired, Daryl," Carol said.

"Me too," Daryl agreed.

"Let's go lie down, for just a little while? Maybe you could—tell the babies a story about...everything that's happened today?" Carol offered.

Daryl rubbed her back and hummed at her.

"OK," he said. "But—I'm changin' it a little. There's just some shit they don't need to know. And—I'ma need your help, maybe, for just a little while. There's a lot you still gotta tell me about Sophia. So you gonna have to fill some of that in."

Carol rubbed her face against him.

"I'm pretty sure I can handle that," Carol said. "You just handle the rest."