AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I'm not sure if some people have bailed on the story, gotten overwhelmed with life, or what, but I'll just say that I hope all is well and don't forget to read the last three chapters if you haven' t read those already. Otherwise, you really won't be ready for this one. LOL

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Don't forget to let me know what you think!

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Daryl thought that the doctors were being sluggish about things, but he was willing to admit that his own anticipation and anxiety might have skewed his view of things.

He didn't understand the full details of how things went, and he was partially to blame for that since he was more of a "tell me the end result" kind of person than the kind that could focus on every little tiny piece of information that went into the progression of things, but there was some problem with Carol's normal doctor that handled all her woman things. The doctor didn't do babies, basically, and so Carol had to go through the process of seeking an appointment with another doctor in Living Springs that was, apparently, also Andrea's woman doctor and came highly recommended.

Carol was determined not to let anyone know about their baby until they knew, for sure, everything that she apparently needed to know to feel comfortable sharing the news.

Daryl, personally, had seen four good quality tests that made him feel more than confident that their little miracle was there and growing. He wasn't sure there was much else that he needed to know, but he respected Carol's wishes. In addition to the tests, which made him feel pretty confident about everything, he felt like there were other things that just made him that much surer that things were as they should be—and he was keeping track, for his own entertainment, armed with google and a little running in note in his phone.

His favorite thing of all was the realization that the little extra weight that Carol had put on—the weight that made her clothes just a little snug and made her declare that everything was the fault of too many snacks or, as she teasingly said to Daryl, the fact that he made her too happy and relaxed—was very likely some physical evidence of a little life taking shape.

The new doctor's office was pretty busy and, while Daryl thought that Carol should insist that she not have to wait, they'd given Carol two appointments as soon as they claimed they had any open space. The first appointment came, and they'd simply done what the hell Carol and Daryl had done, except they'd done it on the professional level. They'd called Carol and said that, in fact, she was pregnant.

But Carol still didn't want to tell anyone because she said there were things they needed to know first, and Daryl accepted that. He didn't hate, after all, having a little secret that just belonged to them. Though he did tease Carol that, if things didn't hurry up, they might be at risk of the proverbial cat getting out of the bag because it was no longer something they could contain.

His teasing, though, was mostly just that—teasing. It didn't take too long—though it took a great deal longer than Daryl thought it should, because he'd really wanted everything to happen in the matter of days instead of almost taking a whole week—to get to the real appointment.

The place was clean, like any doctor's office, but it was clearly decorated to try to make the patients feel a little more at home. There were pictures of flowers on the wall, and there was the occasional photograph in frames on wooden tables around the room that, Daryl supposed, were pictures of babies that had been born to people who were patients there. The chairs were fairly comfortable and most of the staff seemed to at least be decent at pretending they liked their jobs.

They'd allowed Daryl to go back with Carol while he felt like they recorded every single detail about her body on a clipboard, and then they'd been shown to a room where Carol had changed into a paper gown and sat nervously swinging her sock-covered feet against the edge of the examination table.

Without her needing to ask, Daryl hopped up on the table next to her, put an arm around her shoulder, and pulled her to him so that she'd simply rest her head against him.

Carol was, in Daryl's opinion, a true force to be reckoned with. He didn't know the full spread of horrors to which she'd been subjected during her marriage with Ed. She was a little reserved when it came to telling him her horror stories. He assumed that, as time went on, he would uncover more and more about her. After all, though he felt like they'd simply been connected since forever, they'd had relatively little time to get to know one another. He knew enough, though, and he knew that Carol had been strong enough to survive that marriage. He knew that, instead of wallowing in her suffering, she'd built a whole new life for herself. She'd moved to a house in Living Springs—a nice house; their home—and she'd started a successful business. He knew that she hadn't felt like she needed anyone to take care of her, and he was lucky that she'd even given him the time of day and the chance to win her over. She was strong, independent, and she didn't need at him all—but she loved him, and she allowed him to love her.

She wanted him and, in Daryl's opinion, that was actually nicer than truly needing him.

But she was also nervous, and soft in all the right places, and she allowed him to see that side of her. She let him feel her tremble and, best of all, she let him comfort her when he could. She didn't need him to survive, perhaps, but she did need him, in her own way, and he enjoyed being needed by Carol in Carol's way.

When the doctor came in—a woman who was maybe in her early forties—Daryl started to get down but she waved a hand at him.

"You can stay for now, if you like," she said. She offered a hand first to Carol and then to Daryl as she introduced herself. She was doctor Caroline Martin, and one of her greatest concerns was making her patients comfortable—it was one of the reasons that her practice was relatively small—so they could feel free to tell her how they preferred certain things as she went through a little questionnaire with them.

They wanted things casual. They preferred to be spoken to in non-professional terms that explained things rather than, as they both agreed, professional terms that only made everything seem muddied and more dramatic. They liked being called by their names, but also liked the idea of affectionate titles, as they'd started practicing calling one another "Mama" and "Daddy" just a little in their own lives.

They told her that they were, arguably, still newly married, but that didn't mean that they didn't love each other and weren't sure about what they wanted. She assured them that she wasn't there to judge them. They told her that they hadn't realized about the baby—that Carol had believed it was menopause—or they would have come earlier, but she told them that they didn't have to explain.

Carol told her, in no great detail, that she'd been pregnant once, before, and that the pregnancy had terminated at eighteen weeks due to trauma, they believed, brought on by an accident—and then Daryl had added that, maybe, it wasn't too accidental. Dr. Martin had simply nodded and made a note in the collection of notes that she was taking.

As she took all of Carol's information, and gave her a quick and superficial examination that mostly re-recorded her vitals, Daryl felt more comfortable about the fact that it had taken almost a week to find space for them in the schedule—and to promise them ongoing appointments if they needed them—because he realized that Dr. Martin had a very calming presence about her and, more than that, she made him, at least, and because he couldn't speak for Carol, feel like she had time for them.

"Your blood pressure was high when you got here," Dr. Martin observed, moving the stool on which she'd been sitting earlier and making it clear that the real process was about to begin. "It's much more what I would expect it to be, now. Does it normally run high?"

"Just when I'm nervous," Carol said.

Dr. Martin smiled and nodded.

"That's not unusual," she said. "And I'm assuming that some of Daryl's presence is helping with that, so we'll be sure to keep him close by as much as possible. May we get started? I'd like to do an examination and pap smear, and then we'll do the sonogram."

Carol nodded, but Daryl could practically sense her anxiety jumping up a notch. He didn't blame her. The thought of it—that it was really real and this would confirm it—had his heart thundering in his chest. He hopped off the table, but the doctor insisted that he stay close and that nothing she was going to do was going to inhibit him from being able to hold Carol's hand.

Daryl did hold Carol's hand. He held it and, from time to time, kissed her fingers. He squeezed her hand, and toyed with her fingers—thankful that it gave him something to do to keep his hands busy, his lips busy, and his mind busy.

It was hard to pay attention to everything, honestly, and he was mostly focused on the end of things.

So, he really only zoned in to hear Dr. Martin tell Carol that things looked good from a first glance. He zoned back out again—thinking about all the things they might do to celebrate—while the young technician discussed things with the doctor and got things ready for what followed. For the first little bit, the screen was turned away from them as notes were made, but they were assured that they would get to see everything as soon as the preliminary stuff was out of the way.

And they didn't lie.

Carol nearly broke Daryl's hand off when the screen was turned so that she could see it and the technician declared—in tones that would have made her sound far too excited if Daryl hadn't felt like he could actually explode from trying to keep his own excitement inside—that the baby looked wonderful. There was a head, and tiny little arms and legs, and though Daryl had prepared himself not to be able to make out a single damn thing about the baby, he could see all that.

A head—disproportionately large, but normal, they'd been assured. Tiny arms. Tiny legs.

And the heartbeat, when they turned the volume up, was the most incredible sound that Daryl had ever heard. It was fast—it sounded almost as fast as he felt like his heart was pounding—and they assured him it was just right. He was overwhelmed with the thought that it was the heartbeat of a whole human being—a whole person—that hadn't existed before, but who existed now. It was the heartbeat of a person who had sprouted up out of practically nothing—the mixing of stuff from their bodies that they often ignored and wiped away—and was now taking up space in the world, no matter how miniscule. It was the heartbeat a tiny person that would, someday, be a person with everything that every other human being enjoyed—a real and full life.

And they had made that. They had been granted the right to help that little life go from this to everything it could possibly be.

Carol cried—openly and freely—but neither the doctor nor the technician scolded her for her tears. She was given tissues and Daryl leaned and held her as best he could for a second until she calmed. He thought, maybe, that there was some dampness in other eyes around the room—but he was willing to admit that, maybe, the dampness had mostly been from the fact that his own vision was somewhat blurred.

When they finished, they thanked the technician, and the doctor stepped out with her a moment while Carol got dressed. Carol was so shaky that Daryl helped her, in silence, to get everything on the way that it was supposed to be. There would be plenty of time to talk—a great deal of time—but right now they both needed to simply process things and finish the appointment. The doctor returned a few minutes later, and she was carrying a number of things that she hadn't left with initially.

"I have some information for you," she said, offering Carol a small bundle of papers. "This is for you to read about tests that you may consider. All testing is voluntary, and I won't push you toward anything beyond, really, a one-hour glucose screening to see if there's a need for further glucose testing. The information I've given you here will allow you to make the best decisions for you and your situation." Carol accepted the bundle with slightly shaky hands and simply nodded her understanding. "This is a tentative appointment card. They automatically provide them based on this appointment, but you can change that at the front desk if you need to. I will tell you that we do sometimes have trouble accommodating everyone's appointment requests, especially with the holidays coming up."

Carol mopped at her face with the freshest tissues that Daryl had retrieved for her from the box that the doctor had let him use. She stared at the card in her hand.

"It doesn't matter," she said, smiling to herself. "I don't care—when they schedule it. I'll make it happen."

The doctor laughed quietly at Carol's commitment.

"Well—we'll do our best to accommodate your schedule. You can let them know things that work best for you at the front desk. I only wanted to let you know that, since I do limit my practice a great deal, there are sometimes conflicts."

"If this is the way you act every time we're here," Daryl offered, "we'll work around it."

Dr. Martin smiled at him.

"I went into medicine for the people," she said. "I've been pushed to change that, but so far I'm stubborn enough to withstand the pressure to change."

"I'ma be honest," Daryl said, "but—I couldn't pay attention to everything…"

"I understand that it's sometimes a little overwhelming," Dr. Martin assured him. Daryl nodded at her.

"It's all like it's supposed to be?" He asked. "It's all OK?"

"I don't see anything alarming at this time," she said. She directed her words toward Carol, but she kept glancing back and forth between them. "You are classified as a geriatric pregnancy."

"That's kinda rude," Daryl interrupted. The woman seemed amused.

"It's a classification for any mother over 35. There are also reasons that you would be classified as high risk," Dr. Martin said. "I don't say that to scare you. I say that to let you know that we're going to do everything we can to make sure that this pregnancy is successful and as stress free for you and your baby as we can. I don't want you to be alarmed, however, if we ask to see you more regularly as your pregnancy advances."

"I didn't get regular healthcare with my last pregnancy," Carol said. It was almost as though she said it to herself more than she said it to Dr. Martin. She was clearly still working on processing things.

"But she's gonna be here every time you need her," Daryl offered, filling in what wasn't said.

"And if anything—any concern should arise, I want to be notified. Even though there may be some difficulty getting regular appointments shifted, I do reserve a certain amount of time for emergencies. I recognize that, sometimes, a need for peace of mind might constitute an emergency for some of my parents-to-be. Don't hesitate to call the office if there's something you need in between appointments."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Believe me," he said. "We won't. I'ma call myself if I got to."

Dr. Martin smiled at him.

"I appreciate seeing involved fathers," she said.

"Daddy," Daryl corrected. His face ran warm as, immediately, he wondered if he'd overstepped some boundary by correcting the doctor. She didn't look miffed, though. He cleared his throat. "It's just—father makes me think of somebody kinda…you know…cold. Distant."

She inclined her head, slightly.

"Do you have any questions for me?" She asked, directing the question to Carol. Carol was tight-lipped and a little pale. She was still taking it all in, and Daryl's heart swelled in his chest as he thought that today might be one of those days where she treated him to the opportunity to really take care of her and, in doing such, to feeling entirely "necessary," which was a feeling he relished, perhaps, a little more than he should.

He caught her free hand and worked it in hers. She shook her head.

"No, thank you…I'm just…"

"OK?" Dr. Martin asked with a sincere amount of concern.

Carol smiled and nodded.

"Wonderful, I think," she said, laughing to herself.

Dr. Martin seemed to accept that. She turned to Daryl.

"Do you have any questions as a—as an involved Daddy?" She asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Daryl's heart beat harder just hearing it.

"What should I do?" He asked. "I mean to—you know—do what I ought to do. To…help?"

"I get the feeling you're doing a pretty good job so far," she offered.

"He's wonderful," Carol said, practically whispering the words. Daryl swallowed and squeezed her hand.

"I would say to keep doing what you're doing. Carol's needs are basic. Good nutrition. Adequate vitamins—and they'll advise you on that at the front desk when you go to collect your sonogram pictures and to secure your appointment. Relaxation and rest are important. Growing a baby is possibly going to take a lot of Carol's energy. Babies can be demanding before and after they're born. She has to learn to listen to her body on all accounts."

"I'll make sure she's listenin'," Daryl offered.

"Then that's the best thing you can do."

They both thanked the doctor when she was done, and she told them to take their time getting ready to leave. They needed to stop by the desk, confirm the appointment and information, and pick up their pictures. Then, they were free to go.

When she was gone, Daryl stepped between Carol's legs where she remained sitting on the table. She smiled at him.

"Hey," he said. Her smile grew slightly.

"Hey," she responded.

"It's really real now," Daryl said.

"Ten weeks, Daryl," Carol said. "Andrea was eight weeks when she came and…the nurse said something to her about it. She said she was irresponsible and should have known better. She said there was no need for her to act concerned then when she clearly hadn't been concerned before. Andrea said they fired that nurse…"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I know. Merle told me that Andrea was damn near devastated. He said he called and lodged a complaint—and Merle don't usually care enough about anything to do that shit. I guess this doctor don't play around. But—I like her."

"I do, too," Carol said. "But they must think I'm awful that…ten weeks…"

She dropped her head to stare at the appointment card that she must have memorized by now. Daryl tipped her head back up.

"You ain't awful," he said. "And it don't matter what the hell they think. Ten weeks is…just ten weeks. You here now. And that's your next appointment. We ain't changin' a damn thing. Gonna be here with bells on the minute they say we should. But—it's really real, now. You seen it yourself. Got a big ass head and lil' bitty arms and legs." He laughed to himself, remembering the image. "Kinda ridiculous lookin' but…it'll get there."

"You called our baby ridiculous," Carol said, frowning at him. Daryl laughed to himself and kissed her.

"Don't go gettin' offended," he said. "You know what I mean. Even the tech girl was sayin' it'd sprouted some lil' buds or whatever. Just—it's goin' through an awkward stage. Like a puppy or somethin'."

Carol snorted.

"You aren't making this much better," she offered.

"What if I just shut the hell up, then," Daryl said, "and take my best girl an' my best sprout out for somethin' good to eat to celebrate? We could hit the Dairy-O. Mama likes it an' I hear they got a mean ass banana split to wash down a burger'n fries."

Carol smiled.

"Make it a hot fudge cake sundae and you're suddenly making this a little better," she offered.

Daryl laughed.

"Whatever my best girl wants, she gets," he said with a wink before offering her a kiss and tugging her hand to invite her down from the table.