AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"So now we're all married," Daryl said. "Well, I don't mean we're married, but I mean your Ma and me got married and so that means we're a family."
"Family," Sophia repeated, her voice practically shaking. She smiled and pointed to the picture in one of her favorite storybooks.
"Yeah," Daryl confirmed. "Family. Me and you and your Ma and the babies. And now? Merle is your uncle and Sadie is your aunt. Family. That's what we all are. We're family."
Sophia continued to smile at him, her eyes fixed on him as he spoke like she was reading his lips. She liked to hear certain words over and over. She liked them with the soft inflection that Daryl used when he read her the stories that she didn't tire of hearing.
Tonight, it seemed, she was particularly fond of the sound of "family" and everything that such an important word brought with it.
"Family," she whispered quietly, turning her eyes away from Daryl for a moment to study the storybook where a widowed woman and her two children form a family with their brand new "Daddy" who joins them when he marries their mother. It wasn't their family exactly, but it was as close as they could find in the books that had been on offer. It seemed to do the trick for Sophia—at least for now. It had brought her to the point of accepting Daryl as "Daddy", at least, and that was a step in the right direction.
There were good days and there were bad days, especially with Sophia. Some days she hardly spoke a word and others she surprised both of them as she strung sentences together to practically babble, at least for her usual standards, about the things that were important to her—Mama, Daddy, babies, home, family, books.
Some days she had terrible nightmares and screamed at things they couldn't see and cowered in corners until they could comfort her and lure her out. Other days she seemed happy and content and she smiled the whole day through.
They took turns staying with her during the day and, in about a week's time, she'd start spending an hour of her day with only Willomen in the house. From there, they'd help her toward finding security and object permanency that might allow her to eventually function without a babysitter of any sort present.
They all believed that, eventually, Sophia would be fine. She'd get over the terrors and she'd live a happy life. The rest really didn't matter to Carol. Whether her daughter was ever great at holding conversation or not, Carol wouldn't care. The only thing she wanted was for Sophia to find happiness and peace. Melodye assured her that Sophia was well on her way to that and she'd continue to make progress as long as they were patient with her and continued working with her.
Daryl loved Sophia and it was obvious. She was a part of Carol. That's what Daryl had said when Carol had come to him, more than once, with her concerns that it might all be too difficult for him. She was part of Carol and he loved Carol enough that he loved Sophia by default.
And Daryl Dixon wasn't ashamed to show his love for his adopted daughter. He helped her, unashamed, with everything she needed. On her worst days, he'd tend to her as though she were an infant if she required it. On her best days he sat in the floor and tirelessly worked puzzles with her, did simple homework assignments with her to teach her reading and math, and he taught her how to put together the simple ingredients they were brought to make things like Daryl's specialty—grilled cheese sandwiches.
And it was Daryl who read Sophia stories every night for her enjoyment rather than for her study. Carol could be present or she could take that time to do other things, but it was Daryl that was always perched on the side of the bed with a storybook when Sophia was ready to sleep.
It was clear, too, that Sophia was at least beginning to love Daryl. She was slow with her affections, and she was sometimes quite reserved with her touch, but she clearly saw Daryl as something of a constant in her life. She expected him to be there. She expected the things that he did for her. She expected Daryl to read her stories before bed—as many as she wanted.
The two of them, without a doubt, were developing something between them that only slightly involved Carol. She was what had brought them together to begin with, but what they were building belonged to them. It warmed Carol's heart to see their budding relationship, and she was careful to give it the space that it needed to grow.
Daryl was in the process of truly becoming and a Daddy, and Sophia was getting the Daddy that she truly deserved—something she never would have had with her biological father—and Carol couldn't be more pleased with her little family.
She might not say it with quite the same tone as Sophia, but her new family was every bit as important to Carol as it was to her daughter.
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Daryl had thought the same thing a million times that day—he hadn't spent too much time in his life thinking about the day that he got married. For much of his life he'd simply figured that he wouldn't get married. There wouldn't be anyone that would really be looking for someone like him. He wasn't exactly a "catch" by the standards of the old world. Besides that, he came with a great deal of baggage and it wasn't exactly fair to shove that baggage off on someone else. By the time that the world turned into the nightmare that it had become, Daryl had forgotten about marriage and everything else like that because his entire existence was stuck on survival.
The few times that he had let his thoughts turn to marriage and family, though, he'd never imagined that it would happen like this. This was something he never would have seen coming.
He closed the door to Sophia's bedroom—his daughter's bedroom—and stood there for a moment just outside the door.
She was sixteen years old. She had her mother's eyes, even if she didn't share the color, and her mother's nose. She had her smile, too, especially in the shape of it and how it turned up just at the corners if she wasn't fully committed to the act.
Daryl wasn't her biological father and he'd never be that for her, but he could be something else to her. He could be the father that she knew. He could be the father that she trusted and loved. The man that protected her and helped her to become something—whatever it was that the world would allow her to be at this point.
He never would have imagined that, on the day he got married, he'd become the father of a sixteen year old girl, but it seemed that was the case.
In the other room, not far from him, his wife was waiting. Tonight was their wedding night. It was the only kind of honeymoon that the two of them were likely to see—a night like any other night, really. The only woman that he'd ever loved in the special way that he loved her was probably reclining in their bed reading a book. She'd be there, reading glasses perched on her nose, probably absentmindedly rubbing her hand over the large swell of her stomach—full of the two babies that would make him a father all over again in a few months—while she read about some people that had never really existed and escaped her own world to spend a little time in theirs. When he went in, she'd put her book down. She'd fold her glasses and put them on the little table beside their bed. She'd smile at him and she'd welcome him to bed because she loved him too—and he really didn't deserve her, but he was happy he had her.
Maybe it wasn't what he might have thought a wedding night would look like, but it was still wonderful. Perhaps it was even better than what he might have imagined, honestly, because even though he started toward his bedroom with a slight twinge of anxiety in his gut, he didn't feel as nervous as he could have felt. He was going to spend another night with the woman he loved. He was going to spend another night with the mother of his children. The only difference was that, tonight, she would also be his lawfully wedded wife.
Carol wasn't reclining in bed reading when Daryl got to the room as he imagined she'd be. Instead, she was standing in front of the full length mirror that hung on the inside of their closet door. He could tell, immediately, that she was scrutinizing herself.
She'd shed the dress that she'd worn for their wedding, but in its place was a nightgown of a light green color that Daryl had never seen before. It hung loose around Carol's belly—as very few things did these days—presumably to allow her room to grow. She was pinching the fabric and pulling it tight, entirely unaware of Daryl's presence.
"You're perfect," Daryl offered.
Carol jumped. Daryl saw the shock register on her face. When she turned around to look at him, there was a hint of a smile just starting to curl the corner of her lips upward. Sophia wore the same smile very often—it meant that Daryl was doing something right and, with a little perseverance, he could win the broad smile that could light up the room.
"I asked for lingerie and this is what I got," Carol said.
"Beautiful," Daryl said. "Looks soft and comfortable."
"It looks like a tent that our whole family could share," Carol said.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Then hold onto it," he said. "When we're done with this whole thing and they set us free, we might just take a family vacation. Go camping. Gonna need a tent."
Carol frowned at him and Daryl laughed again. He closed the short distance between them and reached his hand out to touch her arm. He brushed his fingers against the skin there and saw the small bumps raise up where his touch stimulated her. He moved his fingers up to brush the side of her face. She accepted the kiss that he offered her and she came after him to seek more when he tried to pull away. She smiled at him, more sincerely than before, when he finally did pull away from her. He dropped his hand to her belly and rubbed the soft fabric of the gown as it rested over the swell that marked the existence of their youngest children.
"Beautiful," Daryl said. "This is soft."
"You want it?" Carol asked. "It's plenty big enough for you."
Daryl laughed.
"You gonna be sore about it all night?" He asked.
Carol sighed.
"I'm not," she said. "Not really. I just wanted to look really nice for you tonight. Just this once I wanted to do something special. I wanted to look—special. It's our wedding night and I just—look like I always look. Tired and huge."
"You forgot beautiful," Daryl offered.
"You'd say that I was beautiful no matter what," Carol said.
"Only because I believed it," Daryl assured her.
"I don't have anything better to offer you," Carol said. She laughed to herself and held out the sides of the nightgown. "This is as good as it gets."
"You're the best that it gets," Daryl said.
Carol smirked at him and raised her eyebrow at him.
"If I didn't know any better, Daryl Dixon, I'd say that you were trying to sweet talk me to get in my pants," Carol said.
"But that can't be so," Daryl said. "'Cause you ain't wearin' pants—Carol Dixon."
Carol's smile broke free then. All the way. She gave him the full smile that he wanted. She stepped forward and flung her arms around his neck and gave him the kind of kiss where she teased his tongue with her own. Daryl wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against him.
"I like the way that sounds," Carol said, leaning her face against his when the kiss broke. "Carol Dixon."
"Me too," Daryl said.
"I was the luckiest woman out there today," Carol said. "Marrying you."
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were just tryin' to get in my pants," Daryl teased.
"Oh—I absolutely am," Carol said. She pulled away from him enough to give him a look that sent a shiver all the way through his body. She bit her bottom lip and Daryl felt his body respond to the expression with far more enthusiasm than a simple expression really warranted.
"I got good news," Daryl said. "It's working. Come on—I got a real strong desire to take my wife to bed."
