AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

111

"She doesn't want to give up being a family," Carol said. "And—the truth is…neither do I."

Daryl didn't expect to feel like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, but that's exactly how he felt. Carol could, at times, be a person who required that her truth be dragged out of her. Today, though, it had been unexpectedly bubbling right up at the surface. The only thing that Daryl had had to do was unzip the tent and step inside. One cocked eyebrow and the offering of his open arms in her direction, and Carol was pressed tight against him, her face rubbing him almost like a cat seeking comfort.

Lydia was upset about their intention to come clean and, it seemed, so was Carol.

"Just 'cause we tell the truth don't mean we have to stop this—all this," Daryl insisted now that Carol had made her confession—one which had, really, had required very little coaxing on Daryl's part.

Carol thanked Daryl for the handkerchief he gave her, and she cleaned her face.

"The point is that—as soon as we tell them the truth? Everything changes," Carol said. "Right now, we're married. We've been happily, successfully married since—a long time. Lydia's our daughter—our almost grown daughter. We've gotten her here. We've made everything work, Daryl, through everything. The minute we tell the truth, that all goes away."

Daryl laughed nervously, but he swallowed it back. He caught Carol and pulled her to him again. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her in his arms, seeking comfort from him, without fighting him. He savored the feeling of this—everything he'd dreamed about—being his life now.

"No, it don't go away," Daryl said. "Not a damn bit of it goes away. Because—when we tell the truth, we tell 'em that we're wantin' to get married. Official. With witnesses. We tell 'em that we've adopted Lydia, but that don't make her no less our kid and it don't make us no less a family. They gonna understand that. We tell 'em that…we all come a long way to get here. We got Lydia here, and we got ourselves here. We made every damn thing work through more shit than they could've imagined from the damn start, Carol. But nothin' about us goes away."

"We never adopted her," Carol said.

"I think we just did," Daryl said. "Carol—the only reason we never made anything official before was…you weren't ready. You tellin' me you're ready, now?"

"I don't want to—let her down," Carol said.

"The only way we let her down now is if we don't adopt her," Daryl said.

"You know what happens," Carol said. "You know…what always happens…when I…"

Daryl swallowed against the ache in his throat. He touched Carol's face and shook his head.

"No," he said. "No. Stop that shit. Right now. You hear me? Shit happens, Carol. This whole world? It's been the definition of shit happens. I bet we start tellin' our truth, and they start tellin' their truths, and we find out that shit just happens. But that ain't because of you. Shit's happened to you, not because of you."

"I don't want Lydia to get hurt because of me," Carol said. "I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me."

"Nobody's gettin' hurt because of you," Daryl said. "You ain't cursed. And—hell—if you were? Or if you think you are? We'll tell 'em the truth an' get that witchy woman out there to brew you up some anti-curse potion."

Daryl had taken a chance with the joke but, luckily, Carol had found it humorous. She cracked a smile and Daryl thought he felt some of the tension in the tent dissipate slightly. He squeezed her shoulders.

"You ain't cursed, but I bet she's got an anti-curse brew if you're worried," Daryl repeated. "Lydia don't think you're cursed. My question is—you wanna adopt her? Because…I'll go get her and we'll talk to her, but I don't wanna get her hopes up if you're not ready for that."

"You mean—adopt her now? Just…before breakfast?"

"Why not?" Daryl asked. "Then, when we tell 'em at breakfast that we adopted her, we aren't lyin'."

"Are we going to tell them that we adopted her five minutes ago?" Carol asked with a laugh.

"Adopted is adopted," Daryl said. "We gonna tell 'em the truth, but that don't mean they gotta have all the details."

"What do we tell them about Sophia?" Carol asked. "Or—Lizzie, Mika, Henry…"

"Those are your stories," Daryl said. "You decide what they know."

"I don't want my stories and your stories," Carol said. "At the end of the day, if we're going to be married the way that I want us to be married, Daryl, I think I need them all to be our stories."

Daryl's stomach flipped. He chewed his lip and nodded his head. He lit a cigarette because he needed something to do with his hands, and he offered it to Carol. She took it, but she handed it back to him after taking one long drag off of it. He was glad that he hadn't lit a second one for himself.

"That's awful," she said, making a face. "The tobacco's stale."

Daryl laughed.

"You been smokin' stale ass tobacco for a decade," Daryl said. "You ain't never said it tasted that bad."

"That tastes terrible. How can you smoke that?" Carol asked.

"Got little damn choice," Daryl said. "Either gonna have to grow some more soon or start smokin' the old lady's rabbit tobacco. I'm about outta the fresh they grew in Alexandria."

The discussion about the cigarette was unnecessary, but Daryl was almost thankful for it. It had helped to further calm the emotions surrounding everything. Suddenly, Daryl felt a calm easiness between them. The tension was almost gone.

"It's our story," Daryl said, nodding his head. "It all is. And we'll tell the truth. This life ain't been easy for none of us. Been nothin' but loss since…forever. Hell—tell 'em how much we lost. Get that witchy woman to brew us up somethin' for good luck and good blessings on our new damn life. I'll drink her dirt tea and accept her blessings. She's the last damn three-hundred-year-old that you prob'ly ever gonna see. We'll tell 'em that you an' me adopted Lydia, an' we wanna get married with witnesses as soon as possible. We come out here lookin' for a new life, and we think we're gonna get what the hell we come here for. Nothin' but good things comin' to us now, and we're gonna speak that shit into existence with the help of Old Mother Earth out there."

Carol laughed. There were a few stray tears still hanging in her lower lashes, and Daryl brushed them out of the way with his fingertips.

"I love you," Carol breathed out.

"I love you, too," Daryl said. "Wait here. I'ma go get Lydia—so we can both let her know she's been adopted. That OK with you? Becomin' a mother again and…lettin' the witchy woman wash away whatever worries or whatever the hell you got?"

Carol smiled at him and nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I—I would like that."

Daryl leaned and kissed her gently. She kissed him back, but she made a face at him.

"The hell is that for?" He asked.

"You taste like stale tobacco," Carol said. "It's…kind of bad, Daryl. Maybe you throw that pack away? I love kissing you, but…I don't love that taste."

Daryl laughed.

"Asshole," he said. "I'll let'cha try rabbit tobacco later. You can tell me which you prefer."

"In the meantime, see if Muh has any mint in that cart of hers," Carol called after him as he slipped back out of the tent.

111

Daryl had easily skirted the questions about if everything was OK as he'd crossed the small piece of camp between the spot where his tent with Carol was located and where Lydia's tent was located. Everything was fine. This was just a family thing, and they only needed a few minutes—something everyone was willing to allow them. He felt proud of himself, too, because he hadn't lied or added to any of the lies that they'd already told.

Daryl told Lydia that he needed her to come with him, but he didn't tell her why. She'd asked him only once and, when he hadn't responded except to say that it wasn't anything bad, she'd walked in silence next to him with her head hanging slightly down.

Seeing the obvious heaviness in Lydia's movements made Daryl feel nearly as sad as he'd felt to find Carol upset in their tent. Behind them, Dog followed along with a self-assuredness to his trotting steps. This was a family thing and, obviously, that meant that he was welcome. Besides that, he'd been in Lydia's tent with her, so it was clear that he'd chosen to try to offer his services to the girl.

Daryl let Dog into the tent along with Lydia, not that the dog had questioned, for even a moment, whether or not he'd be allowed inside. He went straight to Carol and, bumping against her as she bent down to vigorously pet him, let her know that his loyalties to Lydia didn't mean he lacked any loyalty to her.

"Sit down," Daryl directed, pointing Lydia to take a seat next to Carol on their pallet. He joined them before commanding Dog to settle down. "We been talkin'. We're gonna tell 'em the truth, but only as much as any of us wants to tell."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you don't have to tell them anything about your past that you don't want to share," Carol said. "And we're not going to tell anything about your past that you don't want told."

Lydia nodded her acceptance of this.

"Are you going to tell them about Henry?" Lydia asked.

Daryl saw Carol's features change for a half a second, but she got her feelings quickly under control. She nodded.

"I'm going to tell them about—everyone," Carol said. "And that I lost them. And I lost him. That he was murdered."

"By my mom," Lydia said. It came out half as a question and half as a statement. Carol shook her head and she reached and smoothed Lydia's hair, pushing it back behind her shoulder. Daryl assumed it was more to keep her hands busy than an action that was truly necessary. Lydia seemed at least slightly pleased with the gentle affection.

"No," Carol said. "I would never tell them that. They don't have to know all the details about—any of our lives."

"You don't want her to be your mom," Daryl said, "then she's just not your mom no more."

"Like it didn't happen?" Lydia asked.

"If that's what you want," Carol agreed. "It's whatever you want, Lydia."

"I just don't have a mom," Lydia said. "I just never did."

"About that," Daryl said. He stopped and looked at Carol. Her eyes were slightly red, but she made eye contact with him and nodded. "We were talkin' and…we figured as long as we were tellin' them the truth we were gonna tell 'em, you know, that…we aren't married, but we wanna be. Just as soon as there's time for everyone to witness it, you know? Just some vows."

Lydia smiled, clearly pleased with that, but still obviously weighed down by her own truth.

"And we thought," Carol said, "that we'd tell them the truth about…us. About our family. We thought we could tell them that we adopted you. If you want to be adopted by us. We understand if you don't."

"You mean…now?" Lydia asked.

"Now…before," Daryl offered. "Whenever. Ain't like we fillin' out paperwork. We don't have to tell them when it happened. Not unless you want to."

"If you don't want to," Carol said.

She stopped, clearly unable to finish. Daryl knew that this was hard for her. It was difficult for all of them on different levels. Carol had a lot of very deeply seated hurt surrounding motherhood. She was, at the very core of her being, a woman who thrived as a mother. She was everything that Daryl thought a perfect mother should be. The world had been cruel to her, though, when it came to her children. That was something that Daryl was sure would never heal entirely, but he felt that Lydia could go a long way toward soothing some of Carol's hurt, fears, and insecurities. Likewise, Lydia clearly had a lot of pain involving family, her lack of family, her yearning for a place to belong, and her desire to be loved unconditionally. Carol, he knew, could go a long way toward healing Lydia.

And Daryl? He wanted all of this. He wanted both of them and the family they could be together. He wanted the dream that they'd been living and the life that they could build. Whether or not they semi-created it, he figured that it was real the moment that they said it was real. He wanted it badly enough that he wasn't going to question the reality of things. He wasn't going to question what he wanted to have when it was in his grasp.

"If you don't want to," Daryl echoed, but he felt like he didn't really mean it.

"You want me?" Lydia asked. She barely raised her eyes up from looking at the blanket. She let them flick between Carol and Daryl. Daryl looked at Carol, holding back his urge to answer, and Lydia let her eyes settle on Carol.

Carol smiled and Daryl thought she looked like she was struggling to swallow. She nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "We do. Very much."

Daryl let the two of them hug. He gave them a moment before he felt like he could interrupt and wiggle his way in as part of the newly-created family that they were attempting to piece together. He was happy to find that he was warmly welcomed by both sets of arms, and it was nice to have them both wrapped around him for a moment as he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Carol's neck.

After a moment, he pulled out of the hug.

"Y'all ready to get some breakfast?" He asked. "Tell 'em the damned truth so we can get the damn show on the road an' get moved into our house before dark?"

"I get to stay in the same house with you?" Lydia asked.

Daryl smiled to himself.

"I hope to hell you don't think our teenage daughter was sleepin' any damn where else," Daryl said. "Especially not with that boy on the prowl."