AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl held Carol close to him. He inhaled, allowing the breath to steady his own feelings and, simultaneously, to make him feel closer to her. Their bodies fit perfectly together. He marveled at this every time he held her like this—so close to him that they were practically one person. He was almost certain that he felt a tremor run through her. He squeezed her just a little tighter in his arms and danced her gently from side to side.
She laughed and rooted into him, rubbing her face against him in an effort to share more affection with him.
"Whatever it says," she said softly, "promise me this doesn't change."
"I can't promise that nothin' changes," Daryl said. "But I can promise that nothin' don't change that ain't for the better. That good enough?"
"I'll take it," Carol said. She sighed and Daryl closed his eyes.
Beside them, on the bathroom counter, four tests waited. Like an assembly line, Daryl had passed them to her and lined them up when she'd finished with them. They wanted to be certain that whatever the tests said was the majority consensus.
Beside the tests, Daryl had put his phone with the timer set. It was ticking down the time until the maximum efficiency moment that the box had mentioned.
Once they'd washed their hands, it had seemed a waste of energy to go anywhere in the house except where they were, but Daryl knew they would simply stand and stare at the tests if he hadn't taken Carol into his arms.
He felt her tense when the alarm went off, and he squeezed her once more and held her instead of immediately letting her go.
"It don't change us," he offered. "I can promise you that. It don't change us. Not what we got between us. Not that we love each other. It don't change that."
"I can't look," Carol said. "I'm too scared to look."
"I'll look," Daryl assured her. He pulled away from her enough to quiet the alarm on his phone and to reach for the plastic sticks. Daryl's hand was shaking and there was nothing he could do about it. Carol covered her eyes with her hands the moment that he'd pulled away from her, and he dropped his free arm around her to offer her what comfort he could.
It wasn't menopause. At least, it wasn't likely that it was menopause. Even if it was, it didn't mean there was absolutely no chance. No matter what these tests said, there could be a chance—no matter how small—for a miracle. They could still have their miracle.
But it felt like this was one of the singularly greatest moments in their lives.
Immediately, Daryl was glad that hadn't gotten one of the tests that he'd seen with lines to read. He was sure that his brain would have panicked and been unable to read such a test. He was sure that his hands would have fumbled and dropped the sticks as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. He was sure that he would have doubted his own eyes.
This way, there was nothing to doubt.
And there was absolutely nothing to doubt at all.
Daryl lined up all four sticks with a shaky hand. He focused on not passing out when everything felt somehow less solid than it had ever been before.
"Oh—is it bad?" Carol asked from behind her hands. "Just tell me if it's bad."
Daryl laughed to himself. He slipped his hand around Carol's back and under her arm, hugging her around the ribcage. He picked up one of the sticks. His hand was still shaking violently. His chest felt tight as he struggled to get in more than a shallow breath. If he'd had to take even a step, his knees might have given out. He held the stick in front of Carol's face.
"Open your eyes," he said. "And see for yourself, Mama."
Daryl doubted the strength and power of his own knees, but it was Carol's knees that buckled. Daryl was thankful he'd had the foresight to get a better hold on her and to be able to support her. She recovered almost immediately, but she'd absolutely faltered. The sound she released was a sound like she sucked the air out of all of the room, and she buried her face against Daryl's shoulder with the cry that followed it.
Daryl didn't try to hold back his own tears, then. He didn't try to control the trembling. He didn't shame himself for the hard sobs that shook his body.
He dropped the plastic stick and wrapped Carol in his arms once more, this time for an entirely different reason than before. He let her cry, and he cried with her. He didn't rush her. He simply held her.
They had time.
When Carol finally pulled away from him to look at him with red eyes, he couldn't help but smile at her. He wiped her face with his fingers and she laughed to herself before doing the same to him.
"Are you—happy?" She asked. Her voice was shaking from her tears.
"Never had much reason to believe in—blessing or miracles," Daryl said. "Never had too damn many of 'em in my life. Then I…met you."
Her chin quivered and the best smile that could make its way onto her features came out.
"So—you're happy?"
"Of course I'm happy, woman," Daryl said with a laugh. "You told me it weren't possible."
"How can it be?" Carol breathed out.
"Some way," Daryl said. "We got a matchin' hand. Four aces, the way I see it. All of 'em say the same thing. If it's a miracle, then that's what we got us. Are you happy?"
Carol nodded quickly and wiped at her face and nose with her hands. Daryl thought about releasing her to grab toilet paper, but decided against it. He'd hold her at least a moment longer. Instead, he turned the faucet on with one hand so that she could wash her hands as he held to her.
"I don't know what to do, Daryl," Carol admitted. "I just—don't know what to do."
"First thing we gonna do is—wash your face up," Daryl said. "And mine too. Can you hold onto this? Just in case?"
Carol held onto the bathroom counter. She thought she was doing it to humor him, and maybe that was the case, but he didn't want to take even the slightest chance that she might fall. He went for washcloths and towels. Carol allowed him to wash her face and, after he washed his own, she allowed him the kiss that he wanted—deepening it for him until it took his breath away.
"Now what?" She asked, her eyes darting back and forth as she studied his face. She was smiling now, sincerely, and Daryl's whole body felt warm. Everything felt right.
He picked up his phone. His hands still trembled slightly, but not like they had before.
"Now we—take a couple pictures," Daryl said. He lined the sticks back up. He took a picture of them. "Hold that end," he said. "Other hand." Carol took one of the sticks in her left hand. Daryl held the other end of it in his left hand. He took a picture—both their wedding bands were visible and he showed the picture to Carol.
"Why?" She asked.
"Why not?" Daryl asked. "I want it all—every minute. To go with every other picture of every perfect minute we've managed to get. That OK?"
"I want you to have—all of it. You didn't tell me you were quite the visionary and photographer," she teased.
"Stop," Daryl said. "You gotta—pose for me, now."
"Pose?"
"Come here," Daryl said. "This first."
The selfie he tried to capture of the two of them kissing didn't turn out as perfectly as it did in his mind, but Carol urged him to keep it. It was the imperfection of it, she insisted, that made it perfect.
"Now—stand over there. Right by the wall. Like that. That's good. OK. Now—you gotta—lift up your shirt."
"Why, Daryl?"
"So we got pictures of your tummy, Carol. You know—as the baby grows."
"There's nothing there, Daryl," Carol protested.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"That's the point. We do it every week. Then we gonna see the difference between there ain't nothin' there an' then there is. Besides—when we look back on it years from now, and when our kid looks back on it? I want 'em to be able to see how damn happy we were from the minute that them sticks told us that they were comin'. I don't want 'em to ever think that, just maybe, we didn't want this from the start."
"Because you felt that way?" Carol asked.
Daryl's chest tightened again and he coughed against it. He nodded, though. He wasn't going to hide anything from Carol. That wasn't what this was built on. That wasn't what he wanted it built on.
Carol smiled at him, softly this time, and unbuttoned her pants. She rolled them down just a little. She rolled her shirt up.
"Is it OK?" She asked, resting her fingers on her stomach. She blushed. The blush would show up in the picture. She was embarrassed, maybe, displaying herself. She was willing to do it, though, because it meant a lot to Daryl and, he was sure, it would mean a lot to her, too, as she settled into things. He remembered, after all, her attempts to capture something from the last time she'd done this—something that surely hadn't left her mind entirely, even if she wasn't focusing on it now.
"Beautiful," Daryl assured her, capturing the moment.
He walked over to her before she could roll her shirt back down and he covered her stomach with his hand. His stomach fluttered. Under his palm, somewhere, there was a life that was just coming into being—a life they'd created.
Their miracle.
Daryl kissed Carol, pushing her against the bathroom wall. He was suddenly hungry for her in a way that transcended his normal desire to touch her body and to be inside of her. She rolled her hips and pressed her body against his. Her hands went around him.
He broke the kiss.
"First thing in the mornin', you gotta make a doctor's appointment. Get everything taken care of. I'll take off. Go with you when they can see you."
It had been something that was on his mind. He'd felt he needed to say it. He saw Carol's expression change slightly. She nodded her head gently. Her fingers dug into his sides as she clung to him, not that he was going anywhere.
"Daryl—just in case something isn't right or…something goes wrong…"
"Nothin' is going wrong," he said, trying to reassure her.
She smiled at him. She stroked his face affectionately with her fingertips. She nodded her head gently.
"But just in case it does, Daryl, would you…"
"What'cha need?" He asked, urging her on when she broke off.
"It's embarrassing to ask it," she said.
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Don't you never be embarrassed with me, OK? Not for anything. Hell—I don't care. I can't be embarrassed or…bothered…or whatever. I just—wanna know what you want. We play together, don't we? We like it, don't we? We're good together. There's no embarrassin'."
She searched his face with her eyes and smiled at him.
"Would you—tonight—make love to me as…the mother to your child? Just this once…just in case?"
She was so sincere that the request couldn't have taken Daryl's breath away more completely if she'd managed to kick him directly in the sternum. He understood, though, that things were never promised to them. Nothing was promised to them—not even miracles.
And Carol, he knew, would always be acutely aware of that.
"Listen—I'ma make love to you. As the mother of our child. But not this one time—for the first time, OK?"
"If something happens…" Carol said, breaking off when Daryl interrupted her.
"Then it don't change that our child is real. Right? They exist right now. Right here. Between us. And no matter what happens? That don't change that for now and forever, we're parents. You and me." Carol nodded at him and he mirrored her nod. He kissed her, focusing on drawing the kiss out so that she'd lose herself in it. He kept it going until he felt her start to relax next to him. "We're just focusin' on the good," he told her when the kiss broke. "Because I didn't believe in blessings and miracles bein' real before I met you, Carol, but…you brought me every damn thing I could dream of so far. And damn if I don't believe in 'em now."
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," Carol said.
Daryl smiled to himself at the response his heart gave to such sincere and wonderful words. His whole body felt warm and, suddenly, relaxed. He felt practically waterlogged with love and affection for the woman in front of him—the woman that, somehow, he was lucky enough to call his own for life.
"Come on," he said. "Let's see if I can't—outdo myself and make everything just a lil' bit better."
