AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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Daryl hadn't taken it personally at all when Carol had mentioned that she might like the opportunity to soak in the tub, alone, and simply take in the day. He hadn't taken it personally that she needed a few moments of quiet to digest everything. In fact, he'd seemed somewhat relieved and had immediately admitted that he'd like a little quiet time, too, but he hadn't wanted her to think that he didn't want to be around her or meant anything dismissive by it.

They'd happily gone their separate ways—Carol to the bathroom with a book and some candles, and Daryl off in the rest of the house to entertain himself the way that he wanted with the quiet.

Carol took her time in the bathtub. She tried to read, but she spent more time reminding herself that she meant to read than she did actually absorbing any of the story. Finally, when she was sure that she'd spent long enough soaking, she got out and dried off.

Carol stared at herself in the mirror, naked, and turned this way and that, looking for any evidence whatsoever of the pregnancy that she was doing her best to truly accept was real.

Maybe her breasts looked heavier. She hefted one and then the other in her palm. She always gained weight in her breasts. Maybe her tummy was rounder. She ghosted her fingers over the lower part of her abdomen where Dr. Martin had been probing earlier. It could be that there was something there, or it could be that it was all only evidence of a few too many hearty meals shared lately with Daryl.

Maybe her nipples and areolas were darker—just a touch. Maybe, of course, the light was just dim enough in the bathroom to make it appear that was the case.

Carol hung the towel up, blew out the candles, and picked up her book. She walked quickly into the bedroom and walked over to her dresser. She pulled open the dresser drawer and sat picking through the stacks of her neatly folded pajamas to decide what suited her—something soft. She was feeling like she needed soft and snuggly.

She needed something soft, warm, and welcoming.

Carol made her selection and pulled her warm pajama set from the drawer. She opened another drawer for panties and socks, grabbed a pair of each, and pushed it closed. With her selections in her arms, she went straight to the bed, dropped her clothing on the bed, and quickly dressed. Each new item she put on was comfortable and cozy—and just the right choice. She was feeling physically relaxed after her bath, and she appreciated that.

As she straightened up from pulling on her last sock, she smiled to herself.

Her eyes saw what they'd just been scanning over before, and she couldn't help but smile. It had been no accident.

On her nightstand, just under the lamp that had been left burning to keep her from emerging from the bathroom into a darkened bedroom, there was a frame. She recognized it immediately as one that had been on a shelf in the living room. Carol had bought the frame on a whim some years ago at a store she'd gone to with Andrea. It was simple, but something about it had attracted Carol—the faux wood grain, the tiny and colorful little painted flowers. Daryl had asked her who was in the picture, not too long ago, actually, and she'd admitted that it was only an empty frame. The picture was the picture that had come with the frame—some generic group of people.

It wasn't so generic now.

Carol's throat felt tight as she picked the frame up and brought it closer to her face. She ran her finger over the glass. She stared at it like she could make something out—something more than a large head, and tiny little arms and legs just starting to sprout, as Daryl had said.

She looked at it like she might make out a little nose, eyes, or mouth. Or, rather, she looked at it like she might be able to say something entirely ridiculous like "it has your nose."

It was impossible to say such a thing. It didn't look like anyone. It hardly looked like a baby.

But it was beautiful. It was so very, truly beautiful.

Looking at the little black and white picture in the frame, Carol's chest tightened up along with her throat. She felt tears prickling at her eyes, and she didn't try to fight them. Instead, she simply reached for the box of tissue on her nightstand, pulled several free, and let them flow. She dried them as they came, replacing tissues as necessary, already feeling something therapeutic in the release of her tears.

"I love you," Carol said, finally, feeling more in control of herself. She wiped her nose and eyes with clean tissue and discarded a heaping handful of soggy tissues into the trash can before helping herself to more dry ones. "I don't—know what I'm doing. I don't even know if I can do it. But I know that I love you. I love you. And I hope—this time—that's enough." Carol mopped at her face a bit more. She swallowed against the almost permanent feeling of congestion that she'd been suffering from lately. She smiled, once more, at the little black and white picture of the growing little miracle—because she could think of it as nothing less. "Your Daddy loves you, too," she offered, her stomach practically fluttering with the confirmation of the words.

Carol put the frame back on the nightstand and straightened it twice before she was satisfied with its placement. She dropped the last of the used tissues into the little trash can beside the nightstand and touched the frame once more before she returned to the bathroom. In the bathroom, she wet her face and dried it, slathered on the face lotion that she liked the best, and brushed her teeth.

Then, for just a moment or two longer, she stood and examined her reflection again, smoothing her soft pajamas around her abdomen as she cupped it and rubbed her fingers across it—examining herself from the left and the right.

Even though she was having a hard time believing it—and even though she felt overwhelmed when she admitted it to herself—it was true. She knew it was true. There was a baby there. Carol smiled to herself. She'd heard the heartbeat herself, and it had sounded beautiful—nothing at all like the haunting silence that she'd heard before, when she'd been sure her heart had been broken beyond repair.

"Your Daddy put your picture on the nightstand," Carol offered, the words soothing only her, since she doubted that the baby was even capable of hearing anything. Still, whether she was talking to herself or to someone else, Carol liked hearing the words, and she liked saying them.

Satisfied, Carol left the bathroom. She padded into the living room. Everything was off except the light over the stove in the kitchen and the television set. The volume on the television had been turned low enough that Daryl couldn't have even pretended that he was watching it. Of course, as soon as she heard the light snoring, Carol knew that he wasn't even pretending.

Her heart swelled oddly at the sound and she practically tiptoed over to catch him sleeping. She bit her bottom lip, smiling to herself, as she eased around the couch to peer at him. Her heart beat fast, and hard, and a little wild in her chest.

"I love you, too," she whispered, her voice low enough that it wouldn't wake Daryl.

He'd pretended to be watching something—some movie—but Carol could tell that he'd been napping for a while—possibly since she'd gone to get in the bathtub. He was lying on his back, and one arm hung loosely off the couch while the other rested over his chest. He would be uncomfortable if he stayed there too long in that position.

Carol eased over to him. She touched his face, rubbing her fingers gently against the hair on his cheek—the part of his goatee that he intended to be there, and the stubble that came with the hour. He didn't wake, but he did move slightly and the snoring stopped.

"I love you," Carol said, leaning closer to him and saying the words a little louder. "I love you," she repeated, after she peppered his face with a few soft kisses.

His eyes were closed, but he smiled. Carol smiled, too. She couldn't help it.

Carol eased her body down, putting some pressure on the couch, until she'd arranged herself on top of him—flat on top of him. He pretended he was asleep. He kept his body still and his eyes closed. He pretended that he didn't know she was there, and hadn't woken, but his hand had moved enough to catch her hip and hold it like he was making sure that she didn't tumble off to the side while she got situated.

She giggled to herself and settled on top of him with a sigh.

"I love you," she said again.

"So you been sayin'," Daryl offered.

Carol sat up enough to look at him. His eyes were still closed. He wasn't giving up the charade entirely—not yet. His voice had the particularly gravelly quality that it got when he had been sleeping. It hadn't all been a game. The snoring at the beginning had been real.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Carol said, meaning it even as she said it.

The other hand—the one not protecting her from toppling off the couch—joined its counterpart to hold her. Daryl squeezed her lightly against him. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at her. They were slightly swollen with sleep.

"I'm not, woman," he said. "You can wake me up anytime to tell me you love me an' give me some lovin'."

Carol smiled at him.

"I want some loving," she admitted.

"You do?" Daryl asked.

Carol hummed at him and nodded.

"I'm feeling like…"

"Yeah?" Daryl pressed when she stopped. "How you feelin'?"

"I want to be—snuggled. Held. Cuddled."

Daryl laughed to himself. The laughter shook her whole body as it shook his. He tightened his hold on her.

"I suppose I can fill that order," Daryl offered. "As long as you're holdin' me back."

"As much as you want," Carol said.

"Can't pass up an offer like that," Daryl said. He made a noise—something like a groan—and pushed himself to sit up. Carol had to move with him, but he held her in such a way as to keep her from falling off him as he moved. He helped her so that they moved together, and she gained her feet first and almost in exactly the same spot as where she'd been standing when she'd first leaned over to join him on the couch. He stood, too, and wrapped an arm around her. He pulled her to him and kissed her face before he released her slightly.

"Let's go lay down in the bed," Daryl said. "There's more room for snugglin' there an' it don't hurt my back as much."

"I'll go wherever you want," Carol said.

"You're feelin' awful agreeable tonight," Daryl teased. He tangled Carol's fingers together with his own and led her around as he performed his nighttime ministrations and created a long and somewhat winding path to finally head toward the bedroom.

"Thank you for—putting the picture in the frame," Carol said as she followed him toward the bedroom.

"You saw that, did'ja?" Daryl asked.

Carol hummed.

"It was very—thoughtful."

"I like it," Daryl said. "Figured we didn't wanna lose it. Risk it gettin' messed up or nothin'. I took a couple pictures of it on my phone, too."

"Why?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged.

"Why not?" He asked. "Wanted 'em."

Carol smiled to herself. Daryl, she decided, didn't have to explain everything he did. Sometimes, after all, they just did things. They didn't always have an elegant explanation for everything they did.

"Daryl…" Carol said as he led her straight to the bed and started the process of rearranging the pillows and pulling back the blankets. She helped him.

"Hmmm?" He hummed.

"I—want to make a big deal," Carol said. Her stomach tightened a little, and then it fluttered with nerves. Daryl looked at her with a furrowed brow. "Please?"

"What?" He asked.

Carol smiled to herself.

"I want to make a big deal," she repeated. This time there was a touch more confidence behind her words. "About the baby. I want to make a big deal. If—if you want to, I mean. And you—don't mind."

Daryl stared at her a moment until he crossed the few feet of floor that separated them. He took her in his arms and she came willingly. He swayed her slightly and kissed her on the lips.

"Mind? Hell—it's what the hell I wanted. We're gonna make the biggest damn deal that anybody's ever made. Won't nobody be able to stand us. We'll hardly be able to stand ourselves. We're gonna make the biggest fuckin' deal that anybody ever made before over gettin' us our very own miracle."

Carol smiled at him. His enthusiasm was genuine. It was palpable. It wrapped warmly around Carol in the same way that his arms did. Her heart beat faster because of it.

"I'm really starting to believe in miracles," she offered, gladly accepting the kiss that Daryl gave her before he invited her to snuggle with him under the covers.