AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Sophia must have found the nursery because the door was ajar when Daryl got there. When he looked inside, though, he found the room empty. Sophia's room was empty as well. A quick survey of the house found Sophia in the kitchen, helping herself to milk straight out of the glass bottle that it was delivered in and a box of hard cookies that Daryl had requested so that she would have snacks around the house. While she ate the snack she'd fixed herself, so close on the heels of her breakfast, Sophia flipped through a large picture book full of paintings that Daryl was sure she must have found in the mass of things that had been delivered to her room.

"So you like bein' in the kitchen, huh?" Daryl asked. Clearly his speaking startled the girl because she looked up from her book wide-eyed and visibly tensed up like she prepared to bolt. "You're OK," Daryl said quickly. "It's your home, remember? It's your kitchen, too. Guess—they prob'ly didn't give you a whole lotta freedom either. I remember how we felt when we first got here from prison and had a whole house to ourselves that we could move about in as we pleased. This is your home, Sophia. You go where you wanna go. I didn't come in here to tell you otherwise. I come to tell you that—if you wanted to talk about the babies, we're open to talk. We're open to talk about anything, Sophia. Anything you might wanna talk about. I know it's a lot to take in and it's all at once, but that seems to be the only way things get done these days." Daryl laughed to himself before he continued speaking to the girl that was content to listen to him speak, but didn't yet seem like she wanted to offer anything back to him. "Most days it's like everything comes at you like a bucket of ice water thrown at your face. But you get used to it. I got me some books to help me understand the babies. To help me know a little bit more about 'em and about what Carol—your Ma—is going through, but they might not be the kinda books you'd enjoy. I'ma call and get them to bring you some books around that you might like. About the babies. About—maybe about some other stuff you might wanna read a story about. Maybe we can read 'em together like we read last night. Me and you and your Ma. Would you like that?"

Daryl didn't expect any response at all from Sophia, but she did at least nod at him. He was pleased enough with that, but he wouldn't have minded a bit more.

"You want books about the babies?" Daryl asked.

Another nod.

"Books about—families, maybe? I don't know what'cha know. I don't know what'cha don't know."

Another nod.

"There anything else you might wanna have a book about?" Daryl asked. "Anything else around here that we ain't thought about that'cha might—you might just wanna read some kinda story about it?"

Sophia simply stared at him. Seeming to sense that all was well, though, she reached her hand back in the box of cookies and fished around. She put two of the small cookies in her mouth without ever taking her eyes off of Daryl.

"I love your Ma," Daryl said. "Love the babies—even if I ain't got to really see 'em yet. Didn't have much of a family growing up and...I never had one of my own. But I got that now. Best thing to come out of this whole world-gone-crazy situation. If you wanna be part of that, Sophia? I—well, I'd be happy for you to be part of that. But—if you ain't lookin' for a Daddy, then I'll understand that too." Sophia helped herself to another cookie in response and Daryl nodded at her non-answer. "Enjoy your cookies. Do whatever you wanna do. We're here...whenever you want something."

Daryl turned to walk out of the kitchen, but he stopped when heard Sophia speak behind him.

"Daddy?" She asked.

Daryl froze. He wasn't sure if she was calling him or requesting some sort of definition. He turned around.

"Daddy," Daryl said.

"Daddy?" Sophia repeated.

"What is it? That what you wanna know?" Daryl asked, realizing from her expression that she wasn't trying to call him that or get his attention. Sophia nodded. "Well—there's bad ones, I guess, that ain't really nothin' worth mentioning. It's another way to say your old man. Your father. If he's a good one? If he's doin' what he's supposed to do? He's the man in your life that—loves your Ma. Loves you. Takes care of you. Makes sure you got what'cha need. That'cha safe and warm and...hell if I know. Makes sure you got what you need. You understand? He loves you. Just like your Ma loves you, but he ain't your Ma—'cause your Ma's your Ma. You—you understand? Daddy."

Sophia nodded at him.

"You never had one that you knowed, did you?" Daryl asked. Sophia shook her head at him. "Well—we'll get you a book on that too. That's about what I know to do to help you...maybe help you understand it better."

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"You're threatening to ruin this and you don't even mean to," Daryl said.

Carol laughed to herself. He'd practically trapped her in the bedroom until he had the opportunity to talk to her. From what she could tell, Sophia was fine but she was simply wandering around the house and going from one activity to the next—nothing holding her attention for too long—while she ate her way through far more junk food than she should consume in such a short period of time. And Daryl, for the time being, was happy to let her do it because he was arguing—with all of his parenting wisdom—that it would only make her want it more if they took it away just as soon as she got it. She needed time, he argued, to just indulge herself.

And Carol needed to give him time to say what was on his mind before he finally burst wide open from trying to hold it in.

"I'm sorry," Carol apologized. "I just—are you sure she's OK? I don't want her to get sick, Daryl. We didn't ever find a lot of food at once and it was hardly ever junk food."

"If she gets sick," Daryl said, "then she'll learn the natural way that she ought not to eat a box of cookies on the heels of breakfast an' wash it down with a bag of potato chips and a whole thing a' milk. Carol—she ain't doin' nothin' but eating. She won't keep it up but so long."

Carol nodded.

"You're right," Carol said. "Part of this whole—reconditioning or whatever we're doing is reintroducing her to the idea that she has some freedom and she has some excess, I guess."

Daryl laughed.

"Besides, remember how damn excited we were about some things when we got here? I damn near ate my own self sick. I sure can't tell her that she's doin' it wrong," Daryl said. "Now—will you listen to me?"

Carol nodded at him.

"OK," she said. "OK. I'm listening, Daryl. What do you want to tell me?"

Daryl's face fell. It certainly wasn't what Carol had been expecting to follow the moment when she finally gave him her undivided attention.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked.

"I was expecting things to go a little bit different," Daryl said. "I'm not sure, but I don't know if it's gonna really work now. It might just be kinda ruined. At least—I'm almost positive it won't be like I want it to be."

"What is there to ruin about a conversation, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"It weren't just a conversation," Daryl responded quickly. "I been giving Melodye hell every time I've seen her. Stopped her goin' in the clinic damn near every day with us workin' out there. Finally she talked to Milton and he talked to this Governor guy that makes all the decisions for everyone."

"Decisions about what?" Carol asked.

Daryl took the most sincere interest in the blanket that Carol had seen him have for some time. She finally sat forward and reached her hand out to gently nudge him.

"Hey," she said softly, "are you OK?"

It took Daryl a moment to glance at her before he returned his eyes to the blanket. He brought his thumb up and began to trouble his cuticle with his teeth. He wasn't OK. At least he wasn't entirely OK.

"Talk to me?" Carol offered. "Whatever it is...Daryl I'm sure we can talk about it." She laughed to herself. "Look at everything else in our lives. We can talk about whatever's bothering you."

"That's just it," Daryl said. He still didn't look at her.

"What is?" Carol asked.

"It's about our lives," Daryl said. "About—this. About all of it."

"Well if you want to talk about all of this," Carol said, "then I certainly want to hear it. And I don't care how it comes out, so you can just start anywhere you feel like starting."

Daryl nodded his head, but Carol wasn't immediately sure if he was nodding because he was OK with her suggestion that he simply begin talking about whatever was on his mind, or if he was nodding to basically excuse himself from having to say anything. He hesitated a moment, but he finally started to speak.

"When I was—well, anytime I ever thought about the possibility of havin' a family...like one of my own, I always thought it would look a certain way," Daryl said.

"And I'm sure this isn't how you thought it would look," Carol offered with a laugh.

"No," Daryl said. "It ain't, but it ain't for the reasons you're thinkin'."

"You mean it's not because we're basically living in some sort of free range captivity?" Carol asked. "Or because we don't know what tomorrow will hold or if we'll get our freedom?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I can overlook that," Daryl said. "I can overlook that. I can overlook the fact that—maybe we ain't started our family in the most traditional way. I can overlook that—maybe we don't got the most traditional family that ever there was."

"Well if you can overlook all of that," Carol said, "then what in the world is it that's got you feeling—sad? Bad?"

Daryl sucked in a breath and stopped troubling his finger. He looked at Carol. It almost seemed like he was begging her with his eyes, but she had no idea what it was that he wanted. If she had it to give, she could promise him that she'd give it to him.

"What's wrong?" She pressed, her own voice catching in her throat because she hated to see the pain on his features—and that's what it looked like. It was pain. Maybe it wasn't the pain of the torture rooms that they'd known in Region Thirty Three, but it was its own kind of pain.

"When I thought about what my family would look like," Daryl said, "I didn't have a clear picture of what it ought to look like—not faces and all that—but there was one thing I was sure of. It was my family and I was free to call it mine."

"You're free to call your family your family now," Carol said.

Daryl shook his head.

"But I haven't been," Daryl said. "Because I don't like callin' you my mate. I understand that the way this whole damn project is set up, that's just what we are to the project. We're a breedin' pair. One male and one female set to make some offspring to further the species. I get that. That's what this whole damn thing is about. But—that feels like breeding. It don't feel like making a family."

"I understand," Carol said. "I don't really like calling you my mate either." She shrugged her shoulders. "It makes me feel a little like an animal. A little less human. But—maybe that's what they want. That's what they think we are."

"And they're wrong," Daryl said. "And if they're tryin' to prove that wrong—it's like I told Melodye. You wanna start provin' that people are people, you gotta treat 'em like people. Apparently the Governor agreed. Melodye said that he's—well, this weren't exactly how I wanted to tell you—but he's agreed to let us start marrying. Those of us who wanna marry our mates and just get rid of the whole idea of being forced-together mates. We can marry now. If that's what we wanna do. They'll give us some small ass little ceremony or something. If that's what we want."

Carol's chest tightened.

She understood. Now she understood what was bothering Daryl. She understood, too, the change in his expression.

"This wasn't how I thought it should be," Daryl said. "Not that I had a real good idea of how it oughta be, but this weren't exactly it."

"How what should be, Daryl?" Carol asked.

"You know," Daryl said. He shrugged his shoulders and gestured at Carol like she should know. And she did know, but she wasn't prepared to tell him that. Not just yet.

"You didn't think this was how you were going to tell me that they've changed some of the project?" Carol asked. "That they've decided to allow people to marry if they want?"

Daryl laughed to himself. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "That weren't what I was tryin' to say. At least—not exactly."

"Then what were you trying to say?" Carol urged.

"That—I was happy we could marry now if we wanted to," Daryl said. "That I wanted—to be able to say my family was my own. I hoped you might wanna...be able to say the same thing. Carol—I was trying to say...I was trying to ask...if you would marry me?"

Carol smiled at him. She nodded her head.

"Is that all the answer I get?" Daryl asked with a touch of amusement to his voice. "Because if it is—that's fine. I'm gettin' used to bein' the only one that talks around here."

Carol laughed.

"Yes," Carol said.

"Yes, what?" Daryl asked, teasing her.

"Yes—I'd be honored to marry you, Daryl," Carol said. "And I'd love to—I'd love to build a family with you. From this moment forward out of choice."

Daryl practically leapt across the bed. Though he accidentally trapped Carol a little awkwardly against her pillows, she was able to get her arms free and get them around Daryl as he kissed her. She closed her eyes and savored the kiss. When Daryl pulled away from her, he smiled at her.

"So you'd choose me?" Daryl asked. Carol smiled at him and nodded. "Again, even? If you had it to do over?"

"A million times over," Carol assured him. "But..."

"Dear God," Daryl responded, settling down again to sit and face Carol. "Please don't say 'but' when you just accepted the worst proposal in the history of this wretched damn world."

Carol shook her head.

"It's not 'but' about that," Carol said. "It's just—I'm worried that it's going to be a lot for Sophia to take in."

Daryl nodded his head.

"It is," he said. "Just like everything else. But before I come in here, I ordered her a mess of books that we can read with her. See if that might get her talking or at least thinking about things. I—well, I mighta been a bit presumptuous, but I took the liberty of askin' for somethin' for a kid that might explain exactly what gettin' married was. Got her one on—havin' a Daddy too, just in case she might be wonderin' about it and maybe...tryin' to decide if she wanted one."

Carol didn't bother to say anything. Instead, she thanked him for his thoughtfulness with another kiss.

"That mean you're still gonna marry me?" Daryl asked, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

"Just as soon as I can," Carol responded. "I'm not going to take the chance that you'll get away or someone else will come along and steal you."

"Never," Daryl replied before he pressed his lips gently against hers once more.