AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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"Here," Daryl said, passing Carol the sealed envelope with the information about Sprout in it, and the open envelope with their sonogram picture in it. "Put them in your purse so they don't get messed up before we get home."

Carol held the sealed envelope in her hands after she'd tucked the other into her purse. Daryl cranked the car, but he didn't immediately drop it into reverse. He had a gut feeling that she was heavily thinking about something, and he wanted to be available when it came out.

"Are you—upset that I said no?" Carol asked after a moment.

Daryl reached his hand over and patted her leg.

"Do I wanna know? Hell yeah, I wanna know. But I ain't upset. If you don't wanna know, that's OK. It won't change anything. We'll find out when Sprout comes out here to join us, no matter what. But—I did kinda want to know why you changed your mind on me. Last I knew, we were gonna find out. Plan everything for Sprout. But—we do have the envelope. And I know this week is hard for you. Gonna be hard. But—next week is nineteen. Not eighteen no more, you know? So—that's somethin' new for both of us."

Carol extracted a pack of tissues from her purse without a word, and she swiped at her nose and eyes with a few of them. She picked up the sealed envelope, again, and turned it around in her fingers. She was nodding, gently, her agreement with Daryl.

"Sophia," she said.

"What?" Daryl asked. He wasn't sure he understood her correctly and, even if he had, he had no idea what to do with what he'd heard.

"Sophia," Carol repeated. She looked at Daryl. Her eyes had been red since the dam had broken in the office, and Daryl had a feeling they would stay that way for a while as she worked through the flood of emotions. Flood waters, after all, never dried up immediately.

"Sophia," he repeated, hoping he put enough question behind his repetition. "You—like that name?"

"When—she…well, before she…" Carol stammered. She stopped.

Daryl's stomach tightened. He understood and nodded to convey that to Carol.

"Go ahead," Daryl pressed. "You don't gotta—be too specific. I'm with you now."

Carol nodded, took a few deep and focused breaths, and then continued.

"I was thinking about names. And, I thought I liked Sophia. I wanted her to be Sophia."

Daryl's stomach squeezed tight. He'd felt almost nauseous all day. He hated for Carol to be in pain, and he wished he could take it away. Still, he knew that this pain was necessary. It was necessary for the healing that would make her feel better in the long run. He squeezed Carol's thigh affectionately since her hands were occupied—one with her tissues, and the other with the envelope that she was rubbing against her fingers.

"So—she's got a name," Daryl said. "And it's Sophia. I like that. It's a pretty name. Sophia…"

"Dixon," Carol said. "Or—McAlister. She should never, ever, have his name. Not even in memory. But—I would understand if you weren't comfortable with Dixon, so…McAlister."

Daryl swallowed against the lump in his throat. He opened the car door and lit a cigarette. They weren't going anywhere right this minute, and he knew that. It didn't matter. They had nothing to do and nowhere to go that was more important than this moment. He also knew that nobody cared if they sat in the parking lot for a little while. Daryl lit a cigarette for himself.

"Baby girl's name is Sophia Dixon," Daryl said. There was clearly a smile on Carol's lips, though it was visibly shaky. "I'm her daddy now, right? He didn't deserve her no damn way, so she's mine now. Official and all."

"It doesn't matter," Carol said.

"That's where the hell you wrong," Daryl said. "It does matter. And it's settled. Sophia Dixon. Sounds pretty. And—I bet she looked just like her mama, so I bet she was pretty enough to carry it off."

Daryl rubbed Carol's back with the hand not holding his cigarette. The only reason that these tears didn't hurt him to the point that he was willing to do anything to make them stop—the only reason that he wanted these tears to flow freely for as long as they needed to—was because he understood that these were tears that needed to come out. These were tears that would heal Carol's heart and, in their own way, help Sprout grow.

And Daryl knew that he wasn't responsible for these tears. He didn't cause them. He was innocent when it came to the terrible way that Carol—and Sophia—had been treated.

"You OK?" Daryl asked gently when Carol started to dry everything up again. She nodded at him, hummed through the still shaky quality of her voice, and dove back into her packet of tissues. Daryl figured that it might not be a bad idea to toss a couple of the large boxes from the house into the vehicles. For now, he leaned, opened the glovebox, and offered Carol a handful of fast-food napkins to pick up the slack of the delicate tissues. "Just drop all that mess in the foot. We'll get it at the house."

"I'm so…sorry," Carol said when her voice seemed to have returned and the tears seemed mostly contained.

"Listen—I don't wanna fight, but we gonna fight if you keep apologizin' for this shit, OK? You cry when you need to cry…or whatever. But you don't apologize for it."

Carol gave him a soft and sincere smile, and Daryl mirrored it. He hadn't been really threatening her, and she knew that.

"If Sprout's a girl…I just wanted you to know that, I don't think I could name her Sophia."

"Got it," Daryl said. "We already got one Sophia Dixon. We wouldn't name Sprout Sophia."

"Unless—you really love it," Carol said. "It's not legal. Legally—she had no name. So, if you really want it, then…I guess…"

Daryl could tell from her tone that she really didn't want to cede to reusing the name that, in her heart and mind, she'd already given the baby girl. Still, she was always willing to do whatever it might be that Daryl wanted—something that he did love about her, as long as he felt that it was coming from a place of love and not from some leftover traces of a marriage where she was taught to always sacrifice her wants for someone else's.

"Baby girl is Sophia," Daryl said. "That's done, Carol. It ain't on the table no more."

"I know I've asked you before, but…are you sure that you're not going to mind if Sprout's a girl?" Carol asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Lemme just ask you…if I said I would mind, and Sprout was a girl, what we gonna do? Send Sprout back?"

"It's just that…"

"I know," Daryl said, interrupting her before she could begin to explain and, in the process, very likely upset herself again. "But I ain't him."

"I know you're not," Carol said. "And I don't mean to suggest that. It's just that…"

"That'cha get worried," Daryl said, when she didn't quite finish what she was going to say. "I'm not pissed off. Shit like that's bound to stay with your ass. Wouldn't seem right if it didn't. Tell you what, you're allowed to ask me once a day if I mind. But only once a damn day. OK?"

Carol laughed quietly.

"OK," she said. "So—this is my once a day."

"Be careful now," Daryl warned. "Really think about it. You sure you wanna spend it now? Don't wanna hold off on it until…like bedtime? Make sure there ain't no time that comes up durin' the day when it might mean more to you ask it than right this minute?"

Carol's smile was sincere—very sincere. Daryl hadn't caused the tears earlier, but he could take credit for the smile.

"Daryl…" She said, drawing it out in just that way she had.

"Fine," Daryl said, laughing. "Today you get two a day, if you need 'em. But any other day, you just get the one. Carol—I told you before, and I meant it, that I don't care. I never imagined that I'd ever be here."

"Sitting in the parking lot?" Carol teased. Daryl's pulse picked up. He was pleased that she was feeling better and, in fact, feeling good enough to tease him.

"You damn straight," Daryl said. "I didn't imagine that I'd be sittin' in the parkin' lot of my wife's baby doctor's office, with my beautiful ass wife in the car, talkin' about our healthy ass kid while she sat there holdin' a damn envelope that would tell us if we were havin' a girl or a boy. I never imagined that would ever be my reality. But now that my reality is about a thousand times better than I ever thought it could be, there's no damn way that I think it could get messed up. If Sprout's a boy, I'ma be super damn excited to have him as my son. If Sprout's a girl, I'ma be super damn excited to her as my daughter. It don't matter to me one way or another. All I want is for you and Sprout to both be happy an' healthy. The rest of it's just icin' on the damned cake for me."

"Do you want me to open this?" Carol asked, staring at the envelope in her hands before she looked at Daryl.

Daryl sighed and lit another cigarette for himself. He still had the car door open, and his left foot out the door. One person had come in and one person had gone out—not the same person, of course—while they'd been sitting in the parking lot, but nobody had really found their decision to remain there strange enough to warrant attention.

"I'ma tell you the truth…"

"I hope you do," Carol said, laughing quietly when Daryl halted before saying everything he was organizing in his mind. "I hope you always tell me the truth."

"Same goes for you, but…I had kinda made a half ass plan for us today," Daryl said.

"You had?" She asked. He hummed and nodded. "The errands?" She asked. He hummed and nodded again.

"See—I know today is hard for you. I know this whole damn week's gonna be hard for you. I figure it's gonna be a big damn deal to see week nineteen. For both of us. But I thought—maybe we could make this week extra special for us all, you know?"

"Daryl—that's so sweet," Carol said, practically cooing the words. She leaned and kissed his jaw. There were tears welling up in her eyes when she pulled away.

"See—I didn't mean to start you cryin' again."

"These are good tears," she offered.

"To be honest, I think they're all good right now," Daryl said. "The sad ones are important, too. But I was just thinkin' earlier that we'd find out what Sprout was today, and then…you know…maybe we'd go shoppin'. Pick out an outfit for Sprout to wear home from the hospital or something."

Carol smiled.

"I thought Sprout would wear his 'I love my Daddy' onesie," Carol said.

Daryl smiled. His heart felt like it skipped at the thought of their sweet baby actually being there and wearing something like that.

"That's what you want Sprout to wear home?"

"I think Sprout would like it," Carol said. "But—I'd love to pick out some things for Sprout with you. We don't have anything, really, as it is. So—you want me to open this up and…then we go shopping?" Daryl chewed his bottom lip. Carol furrowed her brow at him. "What is it?" She asked. "What do you want?"

"We got time to shop," Daryl said. "We got time to get everything Sprout needs before we're bringin' him home."

"Of course we do," Carol agreed.

"But—when she mentioned that earlier, I was thinkin'…I like the idea of a surprise, don't you? Just—somethin' with family and friends."

"You mean a reveal?" Carol asked. Daryl nodded.

"Unless you hate it," he said.

She smiled at him.

"I would never hate anything with you and Sprout," she offered. "You want a reveal?"

"I think I do," Daryl said.

"What kind?" Carol asked.

Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"I was thinkin'—since we don't got no reason to go shoppin' right now," Daryl said. "What if we were to go somewhere and get Sprout whatever the hell he wants for lunch? And we can just kinda…look at some shit on our phones, talk about it, and figure out what we wanna do."

"I think that sounds perfect," Carol said.

Daryl got rid of the butt of his cigarette, closed the car door, and leaned toward Carol. She kissed him, biting his lip in a very suggestive way. Her expression, when he pulled away, was no less suggestive. She smirked at Daryl.

"You keep that shit up an' we ain't gettin' no lunch," Daryl said. She playfully frowned at him.

"Get Sprout what he wants for lunch," she teased, "and Mama will make sure Daddy gets what he wants for dessert."

"You got a damn deal," Daryl said. "What's Sprout want for lunch?"

Her cheeks ran pink.

"Waffles," she said. It came out like a question—like he might refuse it.

"I know just the damn place," Daryl said. He reached his hand over and patted Carol's belly. "I'ma get'cha waffles. You just hold up your end of the deal an' keep your mama feelin' sweet toward Daddy."