AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! If you do, please do let me know!

111

Skittish.

That was the word that automatically came to mind as Daryl sat next to Carol on the bed and watched her watch Alice. Alice had examined him thoroughly, in front of Carol, as a way of trying to calm her nerves. She had also examined Lydia already, also in front of Carol.

Still, Carol was visibly skittish.

And, luckily, Alice was clearly aware of that and empathetic to it.

The woman stood in front of Carol and smiled warmly. She showed her both of her hands like a blackjack dealer.

"I don't even have much in the way of supplies," Alice offered. "Stethoscope. That's it." The one piece of equipment she did have hung around her neck.

Carol let out a breath with an audible sigh.

"I'm not a child," she said.

"I'm fully aware," Alice said. "But even adults get nervous. Hell—I'm nervous a good third of any given day. You want to tell me what's up so we can make this run a little smoother?"

"Nothing," Carol said.

Even Carol must have recognized how clipped and insincere the declaration sounded, because she made a face that made it clear that she didn't even believe herself. Alice's steady gaze on Carol didn't falter, and her smile didn't fall.

"You want me to send him out the room?" Alice asked. "A little…confidentiality or something?"

Carol looked at Daryl. She looked back at Alice.

"No," she said. There was another of those deep sighs—proof that she was holding her breath from time to time. "If you don't have any equipment, and you already said you aren't really diagnosing anything, then what's the point, Al?"

"A baseline," Alice said. "Gives me an idea of where we all are. Everyone's healthy enough. We can see that. This just gives me some idea of who might need what to stay that way, especially with a hard ass winter potentially about to kick our asses. I'm not trying to find problems, Carol. I'm trying to help make sure that we don't see any with anyone. Do you have anything in particular you're worried about that you might like me to…help with?"

Daryl felt his muscles tense. Everything inside him tensed. He felt like he could will Carol to say what he felt was on her mind—what was nearly pulsing in the air around the three of them. He wished he could will her to say something, but they'd all agreed not to push her.

The idea of the examination, however, had led to some debate. Alice had agreed not to push her, if it seemed like Carol didn't want to talk about or acknowledge the baby. While Melodye had agreed with a certain amount of the reasoning there, she also worried that not acknowledging the baby, after the examination, might lead Carol to doubt her pregnancy—if she was silently coming to terms with it—or it might make her doubt Alice's ability to care for her when the truth did come out.

In the end, they'd decided to play it by ear, but they'd desperately hoped that Carol would come out with it before someone else had to make a decision as to whether or not she was ready to hear someone else discuss the pregnancy.

Daryl wanted whatever was best for Carol, but he wasn't sure that any of them knew what that was.

Personally, he didn't want her pushed, but he also felt that it was time. The pregnancy was visible, now, to anyone with eyes in their head. Even Muh, her eyes clouded with cataracts, could see the evidence of the baby that Carol carried. Daryl thought, too, though he couldn't be sure if he was imagining it, because he couldn't ask Carol to confirm it, that he had felt movement from the baby while nuzzling Carol in bed.

Carol looked physically uncomfortable with Alice's question about whether or not she had anything she wanted addressed, and Daryl held his breath and tried to will her to say that she did. It was time. He felt it, and he hoped that she would, too.

She looked at him. She made eye contact with him. There was something pleading in her eyes, and Daryl's chest ached to see it. He nodded his head gently at her, hoping it might nudge her to continue.

Carol frowned. For just a second, Daryl thought she might burst into tears. Her chin quivered slightly, and he saw the tears puddling near her lower lids.

He caught her hand and squeezed it, moving the other hand to knead at her shoulder muscles. He let his eyes flit to Alice for only half a second. She looked concerned, with a creased brow, but she was making absolutely no move toward Carol at all. In fact, Daryl wasn't sure if she even realized that she hadn't put her hands down, yet, from the gesture of mock surrender she'd made earlier. She'd curled her fingers, relaxing, perhaps, but her palms still faced Carol.

"I'm sorry," Carol said to Daryl. Her voice cracked slightly.

The wall of emotion behind the words hit Daryl hard.

"Hey—no—no—hey—what'cha sorry for?" He asked. Ignoring Alice and anything else, he moved fully beside Carol on the bed and pulled her into him in a sideways hug.

Carol leaned into him and rooted her face against him. Daryl held her a little more tightly. He'd suspected the proverbial dam might need to break before they were ready to move forward, and he was prepared for it.

"I forgot that I had to…so I'ma just…be right back…so take your time," Alice said, even as she quickly side-stepped toward the door. Daryl appreciated her recognition of when she might not be needed. He had all ideas that she'd be hovering somewhere outside, maybe watching over the food with Lydia, until she was needed.

Daryl simply sat and held Carol as she cuddled him. He didn't care how long she wanted to sit there, nuzzling into him for comfort. He had nowhere pressing to be and, as far as he was concerned, the whole damned world could go on without them. This was important.

After a little while had passed, Daryl nudged Carol gently.

"You awake?" He asked, genuinely unsure if she had lulled herself to sleep. She hummed before responding.

"Yeah," she said, practically breathing it out. It sounded a bit soggy. Daryl sat up a bit straighter and stretched his back. This put enough distance between them that he could see her. He caught her face with his hand, and he rolled his shirt up over his other hand to wipe at her face and nose. She laughed at the gesture. "Stop—you'll get your shirt dirty."

"Like I give a shit," he said with a laugh. To further illustrate his feelings, he pulled the shirt over his head. Then, he used it as a handkerchief. She let him clean her face. She closed her eyes. She looked tired. Daryl wondered how much of it was simply being tired of carrying something, alone, that she thought was her burden to bear. "Does it help if I tell you I know already?" Daryl asked after a moment. Her chin quivered again. "No—no more of that. Unless you just can't help it. If you just can't help it, then…go on ahead."

Carol seemed to focus a moment, and then she got it under control. She accepted Daryl's shirt-turned-handkerchief and wiped at her own nose.

"You know?" She asked.

"Mmm hmm," Daryl hummed, nodding. He laughed to himself. "Hell, Carol…how damn dumb do you think I am?"

"I don't…" Carol said quickly.

Daryl felt the familiar sensation like he had ants crawling through his veins. He had to move, and he stood up and walked over to the window that they often left cracked just to let in a little fresh air and to keep the house from growing stale. He had a saucer there that he used as an ashtray on occasion, and he pushed the window up a bit more and made use of it now by lighting a cigarette.

Carol watched him, but he could tell by her expression that she didn't take his movement toward the window personally or as any sort of negative reaction to the discussion they were finally going to have, or at least so it seemed.

"How long you known?" Daryl asked, leaning against the windowsill and looking at Carol. She half-shrugged her shoulders. "How long you accepted it, might be a better question." She stared at him, and he nodded. "Not long, then."

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Carol said.

"Don't suppose you did," Daryl said, laughing quietly.

"When I realized…I thought it would…well…these things don't always work out," Carol said.

"So, I've heard," Daryl offered. For a moment, silence fell between them. Daryl broke it. "Let me just say, Carol, that—I'm not mad or whatever it is that you're scared I'ma be."

"Mad."

"No," Daryl said.

"Angry."

"Ain't that the same thing? Anyway—no."

"Disappointed."

"You askin' or you just runnin' the gamut of possibilities here?" Daryl asked.

"I'm sorry," Carol said.

"Yeah—well—I'm not," Daryl said. "So—if you're apologizin' to me, you can stop. If you're apologizin' to yourself…we can talk about it."

"You're not even…"

"I'm nothin'," Daryl said with a laugh, when she fell off from talking and clearly starting searching for something else that she could offer him. "At least—I'm nothin' you're gonna find in that pond of negativity you're searchin' in, Carol. I'm—happy. Excited. Hell—I was surprised, but I've known about it long enough now that even that's worn off. I'm just glad to be able to talk about it. To not have to walk on eggshells and tell every damn body else around here to tiptoe lightly so you don't notice."

"Everybody else knows, too?" Carol asked.

"I don't know if you know it," Daryl offered, "but you lookin' like you smugglin' a honeydew under your clothes, Carol. You ain't hidin' nothin' at this point. If you don't believe that I've been figured it out, then you can go out to that work-shed we got. I didn't like the looks of none of the cribs we found, so I'm workin' on reinforcin' one so I know it's good and strong enough to hold…" He broke off and hesitated. His pulse kicked up when he realized that he was about to actually say it. His knees felt a touch shaky to recognize that he was going to hear himself say it, out loud, in front of Carol. "Strong enough to hold our baby."

She looked just a touch shaken by the words—no more than he felt.

"It won't weigh that much," Carol said quietly.

"Still," Daryl said.

"You're—reinforcing a crib?" She asked.

Daryl hummed and nodded.

"Got a crib. Got—in Alice's house…we put it there, in one of them rooms—got a changing table thing they said you'd like. Got a rockin' chair for you. A couple other things. We put 'em in there. Figure we can clean out the extra bedroom. Set it up for the baby. Whenever you're ready, you know? There ain't no rush."

Carol stood up. Straightened up to her full height, and not curled over on herself, the baby in question was visible—a little round bit of evidence that made whatever shirt she was wearing hang just a bit differently than it normally would have. Daryl let his eyes settle on it. This time, he didn't try to move them away, quickly, to keep her from following his gaze. He didn't have to. She was carrying his baby, and he could look as much as he wanted.

"What if—there isn't any need for it?" Carol asked.

"You know somethin' I don't know?" Daryl asked. "If you do, I'd be much obliged if you'd just out and tell me now."

"I know I'm scared," Carol admitted.

Daryl's stomach ached. He knew how hard it was for Carol to admit things like that. Snubbing out the barely-there butt of his cigarette, he opened his arms to her.

"Come here," he said. He didn't have to press. She came quickly and practically dived into his arms. He hugged her tightly and kissed her forehead before resting his head against hers. "It's OK to be scared. But—I got you, OK? I got you—both of you."

She laughed quietly and squeezed him.

"You don't know how good it makes me feel just to hear that," she said.

"Then—I'll say that shit again. Every day. As much as you want. Hey…" He pushed her away enough to see her face. There were no tears there, which was a vast improvement over earlier. If anything, he thought she looked visibly lighter and brighter, like it did her some significant good to get it out. He brushed his thumb over her cheek. "How about—we call Alice back in here, huh? Get her to…just look things over?"

"What if she finds something bad?" Carol asked, looking at Daryl.

"Then—we deal with it," Daryl said. "Together. But—what if she don't? And then you can rest easy, and I can rest easy. And we can tell everyone they don't gotta tiptoe around anymore. And we can start getting ready, Carol."

Carol smiled softly at him. Her eyelids drooped slightly. Daryl recognized the sleepy look on her face.

"I'm feeling tired," Carol said, seeming to read his mind. It was matter-of-fact and Daryl laughed quietly. She echoed him.

"You're finally puttin' it down," he said. "That shit's heavy when you try to carry it alone. I thought we agreed, when we got married, we weren't gonna do that—there wouldn't be any more carryin' shit alone."

"You've been carrying this," Carol said.

"So, we both done wrong," Daryl said.

"I think we're doing OK," Carol said, suddenly sounding a little concerned and defensive.

Daryl kissed her forehead again, this time lingering there a moment.

"We're doin' just fine," he assured her.

"I'm the one that's doing the carrying of this, anyway," Carol said, some teasing to her tone.

"I'll do as much as I can to lighten that load," Daryl said. "As much as you let me. You got my word on that."

"I believe you," Carol said.

Daryl leaned to kiss her, and she accepted. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the kiss. He could feel his body relaxing with the simple release of the tension he'd been carrying.

For better or for worse, it was out in the open. Daryl had absolutely no belief that it was over—that there was nothing left to talk about and no potential for moments of doubt and insecurity—but he was certain, now, that they'd be handling it all together.

"Come on," he said, when the kiss broke. "Let's get Al back in here and get some good news. Then, you might can sneak in a nap before supper."