AN: Here we are, another chapter here. I posted another chapter of this one yesterday (I think?) so please make sure you read that one if you missed it.
I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
Carol hadn't picked out too many items for the nursery. There was plenty of time to make her final selections, though, before their youngest came fully into the world. She chose the basic furniture so they weren't leaving the baby on the floor, and she chose a frame for the sonogram picture that had been printed for her so that it wouldn't get damaged. The ink was already smudged—streaked from drying, more than likely, in its cartridge—but it was still precious to her. She'd also chosen a few cloth diapers, and a couple of diaper covers, but for the most part she'd felt too distracted to really do more than choose the most obvious of items.
Daryl hadn't chided her for her distraction in the least. He'd taken her to get something to eat and, when they'd all finished their meal, he'd walked with her back to the apartment. As soon as they were back there, he'd told her that he was going to let Sophia have a little time with her Papa Hershel while he found some able-bodied person to help him see about getting their selected furniture moved.
In the meantime, he'd suggested, Carol should find Andrea and talk to her, if she could.
Finding Andrea hadn't been hard. She'd been in her apartment, alone.
Carol hadn't hesitated to tell Andrea what she'd heard, to tell her what she'd told Alice about requesting that Jessica not tell one patient's business to any others, and to ask her if she'd known about the baby before she'd entered Alice's office.
"I mean—I think I thought…maybe," Andrea said, picking at the arm of her couch. "I didn't know for sure. When I went in there to ask about the scratches, I just asked if she had a test. You know? So I could maybe know. Of course, she wanted to examine me then. She said that—if I was? Fighting with Lori might not be the best kind of pastime that I could find."
Carol couldn't help but laugh to herself.
"She's probably right," Carol agreed. "But—I'm guessing that…everything was fine?"
Andrea looked at her. It was the first time that Andrea had made eye contact with her since she'd told her that she knew her little secret. Her eyes were a little red and damp. She nodded her head.
"As far as she can tell at this point," Andrea said. She dragged her arm across her face to wipe her nose and Carol got up. She went straight to the bathroom and rummaged around for a cloth. She brought it back and passed it to Andrea to use as a handkerchief if she should need it. "Thanks. She—umm—she said if there was any blood, or pain, then it probably would mean that something was wrong, but…for now, I guess it all looks fine."
"Did she say how far along you are?" Carol asked.
Andrea shook her head.
"No. Not exactly. I mean—I don't remember the last time I had a period, but…I don't think it's been that long. Not like yours. Not quite."
"Did she—use a machine? To look at the baby?"
"No," Andrea said, shaking her head. She looked back at Carol from where she'd been studying the rag. "Should she have? Do you think that means something?"
Carol gave her the best smile she could, still not quite sure how to read the atmosphere in the room.
"Probably not. Not yet," Carol said. "Are you—showing?"
"Maybe," Andrea said, wiping her nose with the cloth. She stood up. She lifted the oversized shirt she was wearing. She bared her belly to Carol and turned sideways. She wiped her hand over her belly quickly and dropped it to her side with a slap against her thigh from the free fall of her hand. She sat down quickly, practically plopping onto the couch before she folded her legs up in the seat with her. "A little. I guess."
"I think I can tell," Carol said. "A little," she added, still not sure if Andrea would respond best to confirmation of the visibility of her pregnancy or reassurance that it was invisible. In truth, Carol could, perhaps, see a certain curve to Andrea's abdomen, but she wouldn't have noticed it without reason to do so, and she certainly wouldn't have noticed it in the loose clothing that Andrea was currently favoring.
Carol sat for a moment, in silence, with Andrea and thought about the situation. Finally, she ventured to speak again.
"Andrea—I have to ask. Are you happy about this baby?"
Andrea looked at her, surprised, maybe. Her head shot quickly in Carol's direction and her brow furrowed. Then she relaxed, a little.
"I've wanted a baby," Andrea said. "Badly. I thought I'd never have the chance to have one. Especially not with the world the way it is now. I thought it would never happen for me. Now—if nothing happens? It looks like I'm going to have one. I think I'm surprised. In shock."
Carol allowed herself to smile, finally feeling somewhat secure that the expression would be expected or, at least, appreciated.
"Congratulations," she said. Andrea smiled softy, for the first time.
"Thanks," she said quietly.
"It's OK to be in shock, if you are," Carol said. "I think—we all go through that, at least a little. No matter how prepared we think we are for it. Have you told Merle?"
Andrea shook her head and the soft smile she was wearing fell. Carol's stomach fell, too, with the change in her expression.
"He doesn't want it," Andrea said.
"What do you mean?" Carol asked.
"I mean—he doesn't want it," Andrea said. "Merle—doesn't want babies or children. He doesn't want a family like that. That's not him. It's Daryl. He doesn't want it. And when I tell him that it's—there? He's not going to want me, either. He's not going to want—this." She held her hands up, gesturing around her to show that she was talking about the apartment, but she was also talking about the life that they were supposed to be building there. She shook her head. "I thought about starting to pack. I'm going to have to look for something."
"There are other apartments, Andrea," Carol said. "Even—maybe in this building. You can stay with us, if you need to, until you find something. Woodbury has plenty to offer you. But—if you haven't told Merle, how do you know that he's not going to want it?"
"He's said it before. That's other people. He's not the father type."
Carol got up from the chair where she was sitting, walked over to the couch, and dropped an arm around Andrea. She tugged at her, forcing her to lean and rest her head against her shoulder. Andrea sighed and her weight pushed down on Carol, leading Carol to believe that Andrea could really use the rest and comfort that such a simple gesture offered.
"You and I both know that Merle Dixon says a bunch of stuff that's just—talk. We both know that he says things that he doesn't even mean. Andrea—he's probably said that before because he's scared. He and Daryl didn't have a great childhood. Don't tell Merle this or…talk to Daryl about it, really, unless he brings it up, but Daryl's got his insecurities, too."
"He's perfect with Sophia," Andrea said.
"I know," Carol said. "And he's perfect with me and this baby. He's absolutely the best daddy that I could ever ask him to be. But he's terrified, sometimes, that he's not. That he's just not good enough. That he's not enough. And that's nothing but his father speaking, Andrea. It's nothing but the fact that he was taught he wasn't good enough—and he's afraid he'll be his father."
"Daryl isn't Merle," Andrea offered.
Carol laughed to herself.
"I thank God for all small blessings," she teased. "And I sometimes think you have the patience of a saint or…maybe…I don't know. Maybe you were sent on some mission from God. Otherwise, I have no idea how you put up with Merle. But at the end of the day, they are brothers. And they shared experiences. Merle's older than Daryl. He had a lot more time with their father. But—he has a good heart. You know that, or you wouldn't love him."
"I do love him."
"I know you do. And he loves you. Everyone can see that."
"But he's not going to want a baby."
"Maybe not in theory, he wouldn't want a baby," Carol agreed. "But he might feel differently in practice. When Merle finds out that there really is a baby, he might feel differently. When he finds out that you—and he loves you, Andrea—so, when he finds out that you are pregnant with his baby? It might change his mind entirely." Carol rubbed Andrea's back, soothing the woman. Andrea sat up, but she stayed close to Carol, so Carol continued to rub her back. "He might find out he really wants this baby when he knows it's there, Andrea."
Andrea shook her head.
"I don't think he will, Carol."
"Don't you think you're being unfair to Merle? You're not even giving him the chance to tell you that you're wrong."
"I might be wrong," Andrea said. "But if I'm right? Then what?"
"If Merle doesn't want the baby, do you still want your baby?"
"Of course," Andrea said, almost looking offended.
"Then you'll have your baby, Andrea," Carol said. "You'll raise him or her. Daryl and I will help you. Hershel will help you. The whole community will help you because a baby is a blessing. It always has been and, maybe, it's even more of a blessing now. If Merle doesn't want your baby, then it's Merle's loss, but you'll still have your baby."
Andrea nodded her head. She used the cloth, probably soggy at this point, to mop at her face. Carol touched her chin to turn her face toward her and smiled at her.
"Hey," she said. "You're going to be a mommy."
Andrea smiled in spite of herself.
"Yeah," she said. "I guess I am."
"You should still give Merle a chance, though. He might surprise you. You need to tell him. Today, Andrea. Maybe—he needs a little time to come to terms with it, or maybe he's excited right off the bat, but he might just surprise you."
"I hope so," Andrea breathed out. "Because I really do love him."
"I hope so, too," Carol assured her. "For both your sakes."
11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
"What you want me to do?" Daryl asked.
"Just—talk to him, I guess," Carol said. "You know how to talk to Merle when nobody else does."
"And he'd still a heap rather talk to Andrea than to me," Daryl said.
"But you're the only one that can talk to him about being a daddy, Daryl," Carol said. They were lounging in the bed together. The apartment was still and quiet. Hershel was asleep. Sophia was asleep. They should have been asleep, really, some time ago, but Carol couldn't sleep and this was the only time they got to be completely alone and talk about things without a single solitary set of other ears listening to their words. "You're the only one that can tell him what it feels like, for you, to be Sophia's daddy. You're the only one that can tell him…" She stopped and smiled to herself. She touched her hand to her belly—she let out a breath at the sharp kick that the baby landed, like he knew he was being discussed.
"He—movin'?" Daryl asked.
Carol nodded. She reached for his hand, directed it to her belly, but he didn't stay in that position long before he simply bent and replaced his hand with his cheek, resting it against her belly. Carol smiled at him. She ran her fingers through his hair. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating—pounding, even—as she thought about how much she loved him…a thought that ran through her mind, like a mantra, nearly a thousand times a day, it seemed.
"You're the only one that can tell Merle what it feels like to be this little one's daddy," Carol said. "To—feel him growing. To wait for him to come."
Daryl sat up. The baby had stopped kicking. He caught Carol's face and kissed her hungrily. She responded to the kiss, happy to taste him and to share a kiss with him while his eyes still looked practically starry over the baby's movements.
"My son," Daryl said, smiling at her when the kiss broke. "Our son."
"You can call him your son," Carol said. "I don't mind. It takes more than that to offend me, Daryl. Especially when I know what you mean."
Daryl laughed to himself—a nervous kind of laugh, and he rested his hand on Carol's belly.
"A baby boy, Carol."
"Are you—happy?"
"You gotta ask me that?"
"Just making sure."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. You're so good with Sophia. I thought, maybe you might want a baby girl of your own."
"Sophia's my baby girl," Daryl said.
"You know I didn't mean it like that," Carol said, touching his cheek to soothe the momentary hurt that appeared there. "You know I never would. You know what I mean."
"That's next time," Daryl said.
Carol laughed to herself.
"Next time?" She asked.
"You heard her. That doctor today. You're healthy. Strong as an ox. If you want, I mean…we could have another one. A girl."
"And if it wasn't a girl?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders.
"Then another, if you want. Whatever you want. And if it wasn't, either, then it wouldn't really matter," he said.
"You're really happy?" Carol asked again, the words bubbling out almost impulsively.
"I couldn't be happier," Daryl said. "It just ain't possible. There ain't a thing I want more in this world than what I got right now, Carol. All of it. Just like it is. You. Sophia. Our boy. There ain't a single damn way it could be no more perfect than it is right now."
"You'll talk to Merle?" Daryl sighed and Carol touched his cheek. She brushed the hair at his temples with her fingertips. "Please? For Andrea and your…" She couldn't help but smile at the thought that flitted to her mind. "For your niece or nephew, Daryl?" He smiled at that. "For me?" She pressed.
Daryl caught her hand. He turned it and kissed her palm. He chewed his lip and nodded his head.
"In the mornin'," he said. "I'll talk to him. Promise. I just—don't want you worryin' about it no more tonight, woman, OK? Whatever you feel—the baby feels. And I don't want him sleepin' in worry."
"OK," Carol agreed. "What mood would you rather the baby sleep in, Daryl?"
Daryl chewed his lip.
"Happiness," he offered. "Love."
Carol smiled to herself. Her chest tightened.
"Then—why don't we get in bed and, you can hold me. Help me set the mood for him."
"Whatever you want, you got," Daryl assured her, and she knew he was being sincere.