AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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Daryl sat on the tailgate of his truck and smoked a cigarette while he scrolled through his phone. He ignored the cold—it didn't really bother him and, honestly, he found it kind of refreshing. The wind he could have done without, but he understood that rarely were things perfectly to anyone's liking.

He had chosen to have lunch by himself today, in the parking lot of the business where he'd just finished up a small job, because he wanted some time to think and to look up a few things without the incessant chatter of his brother, Axel, or even Tyreese.

Carol had been suffering from some kind of a general malady. She got up every day or, if she hadn't really slept the night before, she gathered herself together, and she went to work. Jacqui reported, because Daryl inquired, that her work hadn't suffered much for the fact that she'd almost given up on getting a solid night's sleep.

The general malady had included a generally unwell stomach and fatigue, really, more than anything. Daryl was willing to cede that the fatigue came from the fact that, more often than not, Carol's stomach decided to drag her out of the bed when she would have been better off sleeping.

The stomach issue, though, was one that was beginning to bother Daryl. Soon, he was going to force Carol to the doctor himself, if he had to wrap her in Christmas lights and garland under the ruse of being very bad at decorating their house and drag her there in a Christmas-themed bundle of complaint.

The stomach trouble had been explained to him as everything from a stress-induced ulcer brought on by the holidays and a great deal of things going on around her, to food poisoning, to gastritis, to something possibly akin to motion sickness caused by a slight case of vertigo that may have been contracted thanks to the overall lack of sleep.

Daryl could handle all of those things. It wasn't the stomach problem, itself, that bothered him. He would gladly serve Tums all day long, force sips of water and broth every time he thought of it, and keep Carol swimming in the oranges and wheat toast smeared with a touch of peanut butter that seemed to make up the biggest part of her diet these past few days. He would stay up with her and rub her back, offer her cool rags, and ignore her protests that she hated for him to see her in a less than flattering light. He didn't mind any of that—not in and of itself.

What he couldn't handle was the gnawing concern that it wasn't food poisoning, gastritis, or even some kind of strange curse put on her by an unnamed enemy. Daryl was worried that the stomach problems, random as they sometimes seemed to be, were indications of something much more serious.

He sat on the tailgate of the truck, taking his time with his lunch and then with his cigarettes, and read about all the possible problems that could cause random spurts of sick stomach. For the most part, he kept tripping over Carol's offered over illnesses—the things she claimed were, more than likely and almost absolutely, to blame for her hours of discomfort.

There was one, though, that kept popping up near the top of his links whenever he entered a new search or refreshed the old one to see if science had come through with some breakthrough in the past three to five minutes. He kept looking at it. He kept considering it. And every time he did, his stomach felt a bit like jelly. He kept trying to dismiss it as much as Carol did, but he finally clicked on it.

Daryl almost immediately fell down an internet rabbit hole. He lit himself another cigarette, absent-mindedly, while he clicked on everything from legitimate medical pages, to Wikipedia pages, to even a personal blog or two. His stomach twisted and wobbled inside him as he read.

Finally, he sent a text to Andrea, asking for her friend's number, and asked her not to say anything to Carol—disguising his request as some sort of preparation for a holiday surprise for Carol. As soon as he was in possession of the number, he made the call, asking for a short audience, and when he was told how quickly the woman could be available and how long it would be before she was available again when the window had passed, Daryl put in a call to Tyreese to spread his afternoon appointments out to others if they couldn't be moved to the next day. Daryl was so reliable that, thankfully, Tyreese didn't ask any questions or lodge any complaints.

Receiving his own confirmation and sending a confirmation to Alice that he was on his way, Daryl put up his tailgate and headed toward the hospital. He did his best to ignore the thundering in his chest over the possibility that he was daring to consider.

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Daryl brought the doctor her fast-food order. It was the least he could do if he was going to monopolize her break time with his questions. She sat on the tailgate of his truck just as naturally as he normally did, ignoring the cold. Out of something like respect, Daryl let her get halfway through her burger and fries before he began speaking—she'd guarded silence except for the offered thanks that she'd given when he'd passed her the bag of food, and her assurance that she had no qualms about dining on a tailgate in the hospital parking lot.

"I guess you wonderin' why I'm here," Daryl said.

"Well, I figured out by now that it isn't an emergency," Alice offered. "Otherwise, you'd be frantic."

"I know you're a friend of Carol's," Daryl said. "And you're a doctor. I'm in need of both."

"Sounds like you've come to the right place," Alice said. "If there's an apple pie in here—you're more than welcome to come whenever."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"You asked for it," he said. "So, it's in there."

"What's on your mind?" Alice asked.

"You'll keep it between us? Let me handle it?"

Alice laughed to herself.

"Since you started dating Carol, she's been the happiest I've literally ever known her to be—since the day I met her," Alice said. "Unless whatever you're about to say to me is like—something I can't even predict? I'm going to let you handle it."

"OK. Well, do you think it's possible that someone could just decide that somethin' is wrong with them and…well…even if that ain't the problem, they can just hold onto it and believe it is?"

Alice furrowed her brow at him and Daryl shook his head.

"I'm sorry, that didn't come out like I wanted," he admitted.

"I'm not a psychiatrist anyway," Alice said.

"I'm not a mechanic, either," Daryl said. "But I can diagnose some of your basic car problems."

"Touché," Alice said. "I mean—unless you want to be a little more specific with me, all I can say is sure. People can decide there's something wrong with them, even if there isn't, and they can't be convinced otherwise. It happens. Is—there something Carol's convinced is wrong with her?"

Daryl took a cigarette from his pack and lit it. Alice caught his arm before he could put the pack away.

"Can I have one of those?"

"You smoke at a hospital—as a doctor?"

"Sometimes," Alice said. "Takes the edge off. You judge?"

Daryl laughed to himself, shook his head, and offered her a cigarette.

"No," he said. "I don't got time or energy to judge anybody. Listen—I don't know how to say it except to come out and say it, and you already said you'll keep things to yourself, so…"

"Doctor friend confidentiality," Alice said with a laugh. "Thanks," she added as soon as Daryl lit the cigarette for her.

"Carol thinks she's got menopause."

"And you don't think so?" Alice asked after a moment.

Daryl opened his phone and looked at the note he'd typed.

"I googled the symptoms," he said. "She's got problems with her period which is at the top of the list. But she ain't had no problem with…" He paused. He felt a little uncomfortable, but the woman on the tailgate was wearing scrubs and had an official hospital name tag. She was a doctor, Carol's friend, and a lesbian besides. Daryl figured she could probably stomach some light discussion of menopause and other women-related symptoms. "She ain't had no problem with—dryness. I wouldn't say she's got no real hot flashes or chills that they had there. I mean sometimes she's cold and sometimes she ain't but…she's been kinda moody, they got that much, and she says she's gained weight."

"You haven't noticed?"

"I like her body," Daryl said. "I mean—if she's gained weight it's a little bit, but…not so I'm complainin'. Her tits have gotten a little bigger. And they're sore as hell if you catch 'em wrong."

"So, you don't think it's menopause."

"Do you?" Daryl countered.

"It's not my specialty," Alice said. "I get the feeling you've got more cards you aren't showing, so I'd like to see those before I'm expected to make some kind of diagnosis. Why does Carol think she's menopausal?"

"She got her period about—damn near two and a half months ago, now."

"That's not unusual in women," Alice said with a snort.

"No, and it weren't before when she got it. But this time when she got—two and a half months or so ago, I mean, it was short. Like it was comin' an' then it was already goin'."

"Like a few days?"

"Like—two," Daryl said. "Maybe three. But it weren't nothin' like it had been before. We were watchin' it pretty close because we thought…we might want a baby." Daryl watched Alice's face. She raised her eyebrows a half a second in shock or surprise, but he saw no disapproval there. She nodded her head as soon as the information had settled in for her.

"OK," she said. "You might want a baby or…you do? Carol hasn't really ever talked about babies with me too much before. That's more of a…it's probably more of something she'd discuss with Andrea or Michonne. From what I hear from Andrea, though, it seems to be in the water."

"It's in the water for Andrea alright. And—it ain't that we might want one. It's that we do," Daryl said. "We both do. So—we were watchin' her period. Hopin' to…get a baby. And then that happened and Carol said it was menopause, and that meant…you know. No babies."

Alice laughed to herself.

"I mean—menopause means no babies," she said. "That's not wrong, but…" She shook her head. "Menopause doesn't work like that."

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked.

"Well, I'm an OBGYN like you're a mechanic," Alice said, "so this isn't my area of expertise, but menopause isn't complete from one period to another. It's not instant. And some women have babies while they're going through menopause. Some even end up with twins and things like that because their body kind of goes haywire. It's like this emergency rush to—you know—make a baby—or as many as possible. Before the clock runs out. You say that Carol's had a period since you were dating? Like a real period? You know it was a period?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"It was what I woulda called a period," he said. "I mean I don't really have too much to compare it to, but…"

"Heavier than the three-day thing?"

"Way on," Daryl said.

"I'd say to get a second opinion, but…I don't think it's menopause," Alice said.

"There could still be a baby?"

"I think so…"

"Is it possible that Carol could…be pregnant?" Daryl asked. His stomach practically turned inside out just at the possibility. It felt oddly overwhelming. He was afraid to hear Alice's response. He knew what he hoped, but he also knew that he didn't want the plummet into reality if he let himself get too high up before she told him he had totally read things wrong. "She's got more of the symptoms I found for that one…so I just kinda want to know your opinion. Is it possible?"

Alice smiled to herself and shrugged her shoulders.

"Have you—had sex with Carol?" Alice asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Of course," Daryl said.

"Then—it's possible that she could be pregnant," Alice said. "I mean it's really not more complicated than that, Daryl. If you've had sex with her, then the possibility is there. Have you had sex without protection?" Daryl simply nodded. "Then that makes it a lot more likely."

Daryl's heart was pounding.

"That don't tell me much more than I knew when I got here," Daryl said. "Except—it sounds like she probably can't have menopause."

"She could," Alice said. "I just don't think it's quite as cut and dry as all that. It's not a fertile today, barren tomorrow kind of thing."

"But you don't know if she's pregnant?"

"Not without a blood sample or a urine sample," Alice said.

"What should I do?"

"You should take a couple deep breaths," Alice said with a laugh. "And then, you should—go and buy a test. Buy a couple, actually, just in case one's faulty or something. They aren't an exact science, but they're pretty reliable. Then you should—talk to your wife."

"What if she won't take it?"

"She wants a baby?" Alice asked. Daryl nodded. "You want a baby?" Daryl nodded again. Alice smiled. "Then—I'm sure you'll find a way to talk her into it. She'll need to make an appointment with her doctor—the sooner the better—depending on what those tests say. Maybe you could remind her of that."

"You won't tell anyone I asked you about this?" Daryl asked.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Alice said. "But—I do expect to be one of the first ones you tell."

"And if she ain't?" Daryl asked.

Alice shrugged.

"Then, I'll wait."