AN: Here we are, another chapter here. There's one more to go in this story.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl heard the doctor's words, but they sounded distant. They sounded like they belonged to another place or time. They sounded like the snatches of words and conversations that Daryl sometimes heard when he passed through the street and he picked up snatches of things said to other people. They existed, but they didn't belong to him. They didn't belong to his life. They couldn't.
He would just have to wait. He'd have to wait and see what happened. But the doctor didn't want to give him any false hope. From what he was hearing, it sounded like the man didn't want to give him any hope at all. Carol was just too weak. The birth was just too much for her. He didn't know if she had the strength to recover from it. If she'd have been well, things might have gone differently, but her body wasn't ready for what it had been asked to do. Time would tell, one way or another, but he didn't want Daryl to get his hopes up.
And Daryl was hoping for a miracle.
"Daryl, I'm so sorry," was all that Andrea managed to offer when he'd shut the door behind the doctor who'd declared there was really nothing more that he could do.
Daryl shook his head at her and took back the baby that she was holding.
"Ain't got time for sorry," Daryl said. "Gotta cook somethin'. Make her somethin' to eat."
Andrea nodded her head.
"I don't know if she's going to want to eat, Daryl," Andrea said.
"She'll eat," Daryl said. "Gotta. Get her strength up."
"I don't know..." Andrea started, but Daryl cut her off.
"That's right," he said. "That's just about right. He don't know and you don't know. You don't know a damn thing. I didn't ask you to know nothin' neither. Told you to get somethin' made. That's all you gotta do. Ain't gotta know a damn thing. Just gotta do what...gotta do what I told you to do."
Andrea nodded her head.
"I'll get some milk for the baby," she said, going for one of the pails that they used when milking the cows. "You don't got a bottle, but we'll moisten a cloth that she can suck for now. Tomorrow I'll go into town. When the sun's up. Get a bottle for the baby."
"Get some milk," Daryl said. "Carol'll feed the baby but—it'll help Carol get her strength up. Bring in some fresh water, too." Andrea turned around like she might argue with him, but then she clearly thought better of it. She simply nodded her head and started toward the door. Daryl called her back and she looked at him. "Put some damn boots on 'fore you step out there," Daryl said. "A coat too. You'll be ass deep in snow soon as you halfway to the barn. Last damn thing I need is you catchin' your death of cold."
Daryl didn't wait to see if Andrea put her boots and coat on or not. He didn't tell her he was sorry, which he was, for how he'd spoken to her—how he'd felt like he'd needed to speak to her. He simply took the infant with him and went into the bedroom that the doctor had only recently left.
Carol was lying in the bed with her eyes closed. The light from the fire and a lamp by the bed illuminated her face. It was dark in the room, but dawn wasn't too far off from coming. She was pale and her skin was visibly damp like it had been when the fever had consumed her before. Andrea and the doctor had changed the linens and the bed was roughly made up because there was no telling how they'd managed Carol during the process. The soiled linens were piled in the corner of the room for Andrea to take care of when the sun decided to rise on a new day.
Daryl smoothed his hand over the blankets like the poor quality job of the bed-making bothered him and then he sat gently on the mattress. Carol didn't stir. The only proof that she was even still with him was the fact that he saw her throat move as she swallowed. It looked like it pained her and Daryl touched her face with his hand.
"You want some water? Andrea's bringin' in some that's fresh," Daryl said.
Carol opened her eyes and turned her head toward him. She frowned at him and gently shook her head.
"No," she said, her voice croaking out, hoarse from the strain she'd put it through while she'd protested the act of bringing their child into the world – their daughter, a baby girl who was still so fresh to the world.
"She's bringin' you some fresh milk," Daryl said. "An' you gonna drink it. We gotta start gettin' your strength up."
"I don't think I got a lotta strength left, Daryl," Carol said. Her voice reflected her words and Daryl swallowed against the ache in his own throat that water would do little to soothe.
"Maybe you don't," Daryl said. "But you gonna. That's why we gotta build it up. Get you some milk. Somethin' to eat."
"I'm cold," Carol said. She shivered as though to illustrate her point. Daryl didn't point out to her that the house was stifling to the point that he'd unwrapped the baby a few times because the heat of her blanket drove her to fuss unnecessarily. Instead, Daryl used his free hand to pull the blankets up around Carol.
"Get'cha somethin' warm to eat," Daryl said. "Warm ya up from the inside."
"Are you unhappy that she isn't a son?" Carol asked.
"Told ya," Daryl said. "I don't care one way or another. Son's as good as a daughter an' a daughter's as good as a son. Just worried about you right now. Gettin' you up an' ready to tend to her."
"Andrea will help you," Carol said.
"She's a right good help," Daryl said. "When she ain't arguing about what needs to be done. But—I'd just as soon have you back on your feet."
Carol shook her head.
"No," Carol said. "Andrea will help you. With the baby. When I can't. When I—she'll stay, Daryl. She'll help you."
"She's fine," Daryl said. "But she ain't my wife an' she ain't her Ma. So don't'cha think you passin' all the work off to her. You gonna get'cha strength back up, Carol. You gotta."
Carol just shook her head and closed her eyes. Daryl didn't accept that and he didn't accept her shutting him out, even for a second. He knew she was tired. He knew she needed to rest—it was necessary for her to get her strength back up—but he wanted to be sure that she understood it was just resting that was fine. It wasn't giving up that he was allowing.
Daryl reached his free hand out and shook her gently. Carol opened her eyes to him again. This time she looked even more pained than before. She looked like she wanted to cry, and Daryl felt the sensation all the way to his core as well.
"You gotta hold her," Daryl said. "You gotta look at her. You ain't hardly even seen her."
"I don't want to drop her," Carol said.
Daryl swallowed back his own tears, not sure how much longer he could keep them under control.
"You layin' down," he said. "Can't go but so far. I'll help you hold her. She needs it. Needs her Ma. An' you need her, too."
Carol held her hands out in Daryl's direction and he shifted the baby to her, putting the little one against her body. Carol wrapped her arms around the baby and, for all her fear of maybe dropping her, the baby seemed secure enough in her mother's arms. Carol breathed out a sigh over her daughter and when the infant stirred a little, she clucked at her.
"She's beautiful," Carol said.
"She's gonna be gettin' hungry," Daryl said. "You gotta let her suck. We just gotta bare your breasts to her an' she'll search out the teat. It's natural. Healthy. She's already been lookin' on me an' Andrea an' she ain't gonna find nothin' there."
"What if I don't have milk?" Carol asked.
Daryl licked his lips to hide his smile. He might have been imagining it because it was what he wanted to see, but he thought that, maybe, there was a bit more spark in Carol for a second than there had been before.
"You a Ma now," Daryl said. "Just like you wanted. Comes with the territory. I reckon there's enough there to get her by. Better'n suckin' some cow's milk off a cloth."
Carol fumbled with the loose shirt that she was wearing, and seeing that she was having some difficulty, Daryl leaned forward to help her.
"Lemme help ya," Daryl said. "No need wastin' what strength you got on that."
Carol let him help her. She let him help her, too, move the baby so that the little one could take suck from her. It took a moment to get it right, but the baby knew what she wanted and she rooted around enough to help her parents out when what she wanted was within reach.
Carol relaxed back into the pillow with a sigh like the work of getting the child situated had been a full day's job. She closed her eyes, and this time Daryl let her keep them closed for a moment and catch her breath. He moved his hand and rubbed it over her arm. He rubbed it over her body, covered by the blankets that would probably make him sweat more than he could stand.
"You gotta get'cha strength up," Daryl said. "'Cause she's gonna need a Ma. An' she's got one so—you just gonna have to...you just gotta. You been wantin' this so damn long that'cha can't...you just can't leave her. Not after you been wantin' it so long and you done...well, you done put in the work to get it. So now...you just gotta rest an' nuss her. Build yourself up."
Carol hummed in her throat, but she didn't speak.
Daryl heard the faint tap behind him and he turned to see Andrea standing in the door frame with a glass in her hand.
"I brought the milk," Andrea said. "The stew's gonna be a bit in coming."
Daryl nodded his head and held his hands out to her. She came forward and brought him the glass. She passed him a cloth as well.
"I see the baby's sucking," Andrea said. "But—in case you need it? It's clean." Daryl nodded. "She oughta get some rest. You too. It's been a long day for the both of you. Long night. I'll bring the stew when it's ready."
Daryl caught Andrea's hand when she turned to leave and she turned back and looked at him. She hummed in question.
"Thanks," Daryl said.
"You're welcome," Andrea said. "Cows gave me plenty enough thanks already."
Daryl shook his head.
"For the milk," he said. "But...just...thanks."
Andrea smiled softly at him.
"Get some rest," she said. "Both of you. I'll let you know when the stew's done and...I'll be here if you need anything."
"We won't be needin' much," Daryl said. "Maybe just some water?"
Andrea nodded her acceptance of his request.
"I'll bring the water," she said. "But I meant that...well, just that I'll be here if you need anything."
Daryl nodded his understanding of Andrea's words and let go of her hand so that she could leave the room. He shook Carol gently and when she opened her eyes to him, he offered her the milk.
"I don't feel like it," Carol said.
"Don't recall askin' what'cha felt right now," Daryl said. "There's plenty time for that. But as long as you puttin' it out? You gotta take it in. Here...I'ma help ya." He put his hand behind her head, letting her rest the full weight of her head in his palm. Carefully and slowly, so as to not disturb their daughter or make Carol release her hold on the infant, Daryl tipped the glass and helped Carol into a position to swallow down some of the contents. She didn't drink much of the milk, but Daryl figured that any was better than none.
He put the glass on the bedside table and, when the baby seemed satisfied, he took her from Carol to change her position and to rest her in the crook of Carol's arm. For his efforts, the baby started to cry and Daryl took her to hush her before he returned her to Carol's arm.
Carol kept her eyes closed to him now and her breathing was a little more labored than before. It was clear that just the little bit of moving around that she'd done had taken most of what she had to offer. Daryl told himself, though, that she just needed to rest. She just needed a little time. She needed to fully get over the weakness that the fever had left behind. She needed to recover from birthing the baby. She would be fine. She just needed rest and she needed care—and he could give her both of those things.
"You still cold?" Daryl asked Carol.
"Yeah," she said, without opening her eyes. "But the blankets are too much for her. She won't be able to breathe. And I'm not ready to let go of her."
Daryl swallowed against the ache in his throat. He looked at the both of them, his wife and his daughter, and he wiped at his eyes. It wasn't proper for a man to cry—but if nobody saw him, then it didn't matter.
"Then don't'cha let go of her," Daryl said. "Not now. You keep holdin' onto her. Keep holdin' on." Daryl toed off his boots and crawled next to Carol on the bed. He didn't get under the cover because he couldn't stand the warmth of the blankets, but he put his body next to hers. He arranged himself so that he could hold her against him as she held the baby. "You hold onto her and I'll hold onto you," Daryl said.
"I love you," Carol said quietly. She moved her hand to try to rearrange the blankets, but she let it fall in a second when she found the effort to be too much. Daryl caught her hand and folded it up in his own.
"Love you too," Daryl confirmed. "Don't fuss with the blanket. Close your eyes. Get some rest. I got'cha both. I'll keep ya warm. Both of ya."