AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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Carol's doctor—Dr. Martin—had an emergency line that she said was reserved for emergencies and even non-emergency concerns that, sometimes, could feel like emergencies to expectant parents. Daryl knew that Merle had called the woman about Andrea, and that she'd been very receptive and more than willing to help Merle. Since Andrea started off her pregnancy with an overall shadow of negativity, she'd improved, but there were still times when Daryl could tell that Merle was working to keep morale high and not let her slip into her earliest practices of convincing herself that they would be terrible parents—herself, most of all—and that, maybe, they'd made a horrible mistake for Peanut's sake. From what Daryl understood from Merle, Dr. Martin was aware of Andrea's mood swings, and she assured him that the moods of mothers-to-be could be all over the place. She was supportive, helpful, praised Andrea profusely for the excellent job she was doing of taking care of herself and the baby, and told Merle that he could call and leave her a message any time that he needed some reassurance, himself, that he was doing the right things to help Andrea.

Daryl had left a message with her after one of Carol's appointments, half-believing that she wouldn't get back in touch with him. It had taken until the next day—fair enough considering he'd called her after-hours for her office—but she'd called him back while he'd been working. He'd taken an immediate break to take her call.

Through a quick conversation, Daryl learned what he needed to know. The order and arrangement of events at Carol's appointments was somewhat arbitrary within reason. Dr. Martin already knew about Carol's failed pregnancy, and Carol had delicately shared the details with the woman, so she only needed the slightest reminding from Daryl of what had happened—and how that affected Carol, even if she was very good at hiding things. He'd made the request and arrangement, then, with Dr. Martin to assure that the eighteenth week would mean an appointment that could be both reassuring and exciting. Everything else had been slightly moved around, and Dr. Martin had assured Daryl that they would do their best to make the appointment positive for Carol. A sticker, he'd been assured, had already been placed in her folder for that day to let the nurses and techs know that they were to be extra kind and supportive—just in case "Mama" was feeling a bit fragile.

Moving toward what Daryl couldn't help but feel was going to be a very big moment—or week—in their relationship, he started making his plans.

If Ed could make "eighteen weeks" the start of a nightmare that had plagued Carol for years, Daryl was confident that he could make "eighteen weeks" the start of a wonderful celebration that could take them on to an even more positive experience together as they watched Sprout grow.

Carol was worth it. Sprout was worth it.

Daryl's family was worth the minor bit of effort involved in thinking about what could make for a week that Carol would remember positively instead of eternally negatively.

In the meantime, they'd rang in the New Year together. Daryl had tasted his very first New Year's Eve kiss with the woman with whom he intended to spend the rest of his life.

All of Carol's tests came back with positive results, her check-ups went well, and Daryl had recorded the sound of their baby's heartbeat on his phone so that they could play it back whenever either of them might desire to hear it.

Daryl thought there was a definite roundness to Carol's belly, but she insisted—as she always did—that it was really only weight gain from food or whatever it was she picked for each day's excuse.

Andrea, however, had embraced the idea that the added roundness to her figure was Peanut, and there was no question about it. She'd also begun talking about Peanut's little kicks and movements, which she was confident she could feel, even though nobody else could at this point. Still, every time Daryl asked Carol about Sprout's movements and whether or not she could feel him, she'd simply tell him it wasn't time or that Sprout wasn't big enough. Andrea, Carol said, was mistaking everything from gas to hunger pangs as proof of Peanut's highly active lifestyle—even though nobody would have dared to tell Andrea that when she was so excited to make regular reports to anyone who would listen and act even moderately excited.

Daryl refused to push Carol, though. He had already accepted that she was going to be struggling with her own things, especially as they neared the week that she'd all but circled in black on the calendar.

Instead of pushing her, he simply celebrated every day with her as they normally did—talking about Sprout as a regular member of their household with opinions about meals and bedtimes. He reminded her that she could talk about the baby girl whenever she pleased, and she could say whatever she needed to say. He commented on how beautiful she was, how perfect her belly was—even when she reminded him it had nothing to do with Sprout, and he asked her at least twice a day if she'd felt Sprout move yet.

Beyond that, they simply lived and enjoyed their lives. They were moving forward with the plan to build a house. They'd picked out and finalized their floor plans, customizing an already existing plan with a contractor that Tyreese knew, and they were in the process of getting everything going. Merle and Andrea, spurred on by their desire to build a house out on the land, were making plans to move into Andrea's house—which she'd been holding onto rather than selling up to this point—so that they could build a house where the trailer now sat.

As soon as they moved into Andrea's house, Merle and Andrea would become closer neighbors and, really, Daryl was looking forward to that. He felt that it might really help Carol and Andrea, both, to have each other very close-by.

On the morning of Carol's appointment, Daryl knew that Carol was not doing well—even if she wouldn't come right out and tell him that. She was up dramatically early. He'd barely woken when she'd risen from the bed, and he'd assumed that she was going to the bathroom and would return. When he woke for good, he'd discovered that she hadn't returned.

When he found her in the kitchen, she was absolutely jumpy. She'd nearly sprang out of the chair where she was sitting with a coffee cup in front of her and was staring at a book that, he'd have bet, she hadn't really been reading. When Daryl had touched her, she'd been noticeably tense, and her kisses had been more rigid and uncomfortable than he could really ever recall them having been before—even bearing in mind some of the earliest kisses they shared.

Daryl had simply asked Carol if she was "OK," and when she told him that she was fine and gave him the very artificial smile that he knew meant that she was not fine, but was also not ready to talk about it, he'd left her alone. He'd offered to make breakfast, but she'd insisted that she wanted to make it. She'd relaxed a little while making the food, and she'd produced a feast to rival any holiday meal of practically everything that Daryl had ever mentioned he enjoyed for breakfast. He had, perhaps, failed to mention that he didn't like to eat all of those things at the same time. Still, he ate as much as he could and praised it profusely while nudging Carol—who seemed more calmed and content watching him eat—to eat her own somewhat meagre portion of breakfast.

When breakfast was done, and Daryl couldn't possibly bring himself to swallow even another bite of food or another swallow of coffee, he glanced at the clock and patted Carol's hand.

"Oughta start gettin' ready," he said. "Don't wanna be late."

"We have plenty of time," Carol said, almost defensively.

"You gonna shower before we go?" Daryl asked. Carol hummed and nodded. "Do your hair? Put on some make up? I mean—I don't care. You can go like that in your pajamas and I won't care. But…if you gonna do all that, and you don't hardly ever wear the first thing you put on…"

Carol laughed to herself.

"I hear you," she said. "I'll go start getting ready."

"I'ma clean the kitchen up for you."

"Leave it," Carol said.

"I got it," Daryl said. "You made me that meal. The least my ass can do is clean up afterward."

"Are you going to shower?"

"Showered 'fore I went to bed," Daryl said. "Figured I'd just go as I am. Unless you're thinkin' I smell from sweat or whatever."

"You don't smell," Carol said. "And you'll wear deodorant and that cologne I bought you, anyway. But—you need to do something with your hair, Pookie." Carol affectionately petted Daryl's head. "It looks like you were having sex last night."

Daryl's face ran hot.

"I was," he said.

"You were?" Carol asked, teasing him. He was relieved that she was teasing him. At least she was a little more relaxed than she had been when he'd first come into the kitchen to find her nearly ready to leap out of her skin entirely. He smiled at her, hummed, and nodded.

"Sure was," he said. "My hair looks so damned bad because she was ridin' my ass. Wallowin' me all into the mattress."

"She was?" Carol asked. Her cheeks ran pink, but she was doing her best to hold her smile back. It wasn't working. Daryl hummed and nodded again.

"Like one of them—them bull things…you know? Like they got at a bar. Rode my ass half the damned night. That's why the hell I was so late gettin' up. Wore me the fuck out."

"It's good you got some rest," Carol said.

"I did," Daryl said.

"And—it's good you had a good breakfast," Carol said. "To build your strength back up and all."

"Well—sex ain't the only thing my wife's good at. Damn good cook, too." Daryl winked at her. "And she's also a hot baby-makin' machine."

She broke then and laughed at him, nearly falling into his lap from the position she'd slowly taken to, without a doubt, offer him a kiss before she went to shower. He caught her in a hug and kissed her. The kiss she gave him was welcomed, and he let her draw it out for as long as she wanted before he sent her to shower and get ready.

Daryl cleaned the kitchen and then, in the bedroom, he made the bed and changed his clothes so he'd be presentable for the doctor's office. He folded Carol's pajamas—left on the bed because she hadn't put them away yet—and put them on the dresser for her to have that evening.

In the bathroom, he found Carol standing in her clothes and bare feet, doing her makeup in the mirror. He wolf-whistled at her and she laughed.

"Stop it, asshole," she pretended to scold. "You're going to make me mess up."

"You'll still be hot." Daryl said. She eyed him. "You will—streaks of…whatever that shit is. All across here. Good shit. My hair ain't that bad. Not considerin' the damn good sex I had to get it to look like this."

Carol moved to the side enough to let him get to the sink, and Daryl wet his hair down and combed it out.

"You could use a haircut," Carol said.

"You'll cut it for me?" Daryl asked.

"You know you could run by Andrea's any day," Carol said. "She would cut it for you any time."

"I'd prefer you cut it," Daryl said, spreading toothpaste down the length of his toothbrush bristles. Something he and Merle had read once suggested that both of them were using way too much toothpaste. Daryl didn't know if that was true or not, but he liked his toothbrush just as covered as it was now, so he figured he wasn't about to change his toothpaste usage. Merle, he knew, hadn't liked the idea of using less, either.

Carol's toothpaste usage was comparable to Daryl's, but it was likely that she hadn't spent so much of her life with someone like Merle reading her random ass articles over breakfast on a regular basis. She was, also, entirely unaware of Daryl's contemplation of the toothpaste, and continued on with the discussion of his future haircut.

"Andrea's a professional," Carol said.

"So? It ain't like I'm askin' for no complicated ass haircut. I like how you do it. And, besides—I like…when you cut my hair. You know you—rub my face a lot. And—you circle around me. Rub your tits in my face. I don't want Andrea's tits in my face," Daryl said around a mouthful of toothpaste foam.

Carol laughed.

"I'll cut your hair when we get home," she said. "What do you want to eat later? If I need to defrost something…"

"We'll go out for lunch after your appointment," Daryl said. "Got a couple errands to run."

"Errands?" Carol asked.

"Don't worry about it," Daryl said.

"What kind of errands?" Carol asked. Daryl could tell that she didn't know if she was nervous or not.

"Good errands," Daryl said. "Don't worry about it. It's a surprise. Now—I'ma go smoke a cigarette an' let you get done. I don't wanna rush you, but…just remember we don't wanna be late, OK? Big day for Sprout. Gonna show us his business if we're lucky."