AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

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

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They had agreed to meet at Daryl's house for the discussion.

As a way of showing his support in everything, Merle had offered to grill chicken for the meal, and Andrea had offered to make potato salad and green beans. It was a simple meal, but it would be filling and taste good.

When Carol arrived, there had been introductions and handshakes. She'd greeted Merle familiarly, since he already knew her from the diner, and she'd offered to help Andrea finish up with the potato salad while Merle and Daryl finished with the chicken that was cooking on the grill.

Daryl and Merle shared a grill, like they shared most everything else, and their home arrangement lent itself to that kind of thing.

Woodson was a small ass town, and it was just about two four towns removed from where the brothers had grown up. They'd had a lot that they wanted to leave behind and, at the time that they'd moved, Woodson needed people with technical skills more than anything else. Neither of them minded working their way up from the bottom, especially not with the fresh air of a new start in their lungs, and the steady money in their pockets was enough to put down on land that nobody wanted because it was in Woodson, Georgia.

Their expanse of land on the outskirts of Woodson bought them privacy if not a damn thing else. They'd bought a singlewide trailer to call home first. Then, Merle had met, and started dating, Andrea. In much the same way they did, Andrea had things she just wanted to get away from. She'd ended up in Woodson because small towns meant less stressful workloads for lawyers while, also, allowing them to be something like big fish in tiny ponds. Andrea was the one that had moved the second singlewide onto the property—just about the time that Daryl and Merle had built their own little shop for weekend and evening work to be done.

When Merle had married Andrea, they'd bought the doublewide, left Daryl with the singlewide, and left the third sitting empty until they gathered up the energy to sell it.

They jokingly called their little area of the world "The Dixon Compound."

Because of their closeness—both in proximity and emotion—there was an understood open-door policy between their homes. They all came and went as they pleased between each other's homes without any pomp or circumstance.

"She's a pretty little thing," Merle had offered as he'd checked the chicken.

That was how Merle had told Daryl about Carol, too, when Daryl had finally worked up his courage to put the advertisement in the paper and had told his brother and sister-in-law that he was finally going through with what had only been something he'd talked about before. Merle had told Daryl, immediately, that he knew a pretty little thing—fresh to Woodson, which was somewhat unusual—who was a little down on her luck and seemed like she might appreciate the kind of windfall that Daryl was offering with the whole agreement. Daryl hadn't imagined Merle would actually talk to her until he'd found that his advertisement was gone from the table where he'd left it—intending to take it to the paper—and his brother had responded to his questioning text by stating that he didn't need to worry about it, it was all taken care of and he had someone to meet.

"She's pretty," Daryl ceded. It was true but, really, it didn't matter. He reminded himself of that. "This is a business transaction, Merle."

Merle hummed.

"Business or not…it don't never hurt to have a pretty lady to look at."

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Andrea was doing most of the speaking for Daryl, and Carol imagined that it was probably because of the fact that, as a lawyer, Andrea was more accustomed to keeping her composure and speaking about any kind of topic under different levels of discomfort and pressure. Carol didn't mind, at all, that Andrea was functioning as the main speaker for their discussion of how things would go.

Carol had a day off in two days. During that day, she would meet up with Andrea, who was also taking the day off, and they'd set up a bank account for Carol. In that way, Daryl could transfer money to Carol easily. The funds would go directly into the account, and she would have immediate access to anything she needed.

Carol's cell phone, which was practically brand new, had been purchased with her lawyer so that the lawyer was the only person who had her number beyond whoever she gave it out to now. Because the price tag was more than Carol could afford, leaving her marriage, her lawyer was paying for it for a few months so they could keep in touch regarding the divorce. After that, Carol would have to figure out exactly what she wanted to do—though she was hoping for a raise at the diner.

She'd explained all that, and Daryl had immediately said that, in addition to the food allowance, clothing allowance, and medical bills, he would pay for Carol's cell phone.

"I can't ask you to do all that," Carol protested quickly. "I didn't mean to ask that."

"I'ma do it," Daryl said, dismissing her protest. "You got to have a phone."

"I don't have to have one this nice," Carol said. "This was what she chose."

"I want you to have one like that," Daryl said. "You got the internet for anything you gotta look up. You can call and text. What if you got some kind of emergency? Besides that—I think we need to be able to keep in touch with each other."

"Are you sure you have the money for all this?" Carol asked, her stomach aching with the renewal of her nerves.

"Sweetheart," Andrea said, her tone soft to go with her smile, "Daryl works all the time. Even his hobby is work. He takes cars to auctions all around. He sells locally. He's made a name for himself. And, on top of that, he doesn't spend money. All he's done forever is put money in savings that he isn't recycling back into work. He hasn't wanted anything nice for himself—until now."

Carol saw Daryl's face run red at his sister-in-law's words, but hearing the reassurance from Andrea actually helped to relieve some of Carol's worries.

"I wouldn't offer it if I didn't have it," Daryl said. "It's gonna be my kid. Just want it to have everything it's gonna need."

Carol nodded.

"You're feeling overwhelmed," Andrea offered.

"A little," Carol admitted.

"We're almost done," Andrea said, her face taking on a sympathetic expression. "At least until either of you feels there's something else that needs to be discussed."

"I'm fine," Carol said. "I promise. It's just…a lot to digest."

"I'm sure it is," Andrea said. She got up from the table, and went into the living room to get something. Daryl cleared his throat from his spot.

"If it makes you feel better, I've been thinking about this and…kinda planning it for years. I been wanting it a long time. And it's still a lot to deal with now that it's here and real. It's exciting, but…scary, too."

Carol smiled at him. He did look nervous—almost as nervous and overwhelmed as she was feeling.

"It does make me feel a little better," she admitted.

Andrea returned to the room carrying a large gift bag for Christmas. Carol got the distinct feeling, though, that it wasn't an out-of-date Christmas gift.

The table had been cleared away since dinner—a very good dinner, really. Now there was an ashtray, as both brothers smoked, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a couple of beers, and two glasses of water left on the table. Andrea began rearranging things on the table to make the space between she and Carol a little more open.

"Just one more super uncomfortable thing and…we'll be done," Andrea said. She stood by her chair and started to remove items from the bag and put them on the table. "OK—so we have a town not far from here where we can buy anything we need without running into too many people, you know? So, things don't get too awkward. But Daryl's been talking about this for a while, and I went ahead and did some of my research, and I did a little shopping. We'll get this out of the way now, and we don't really have to revisit it too much later. Now—these are ovulation tests. And we'll get you as many more as you need, but you can see there's quite a few in the bag. You just take these, and you'll know when you're ovulating."

"Ovulating?" Merle asked.

"Releasing an egg, Merle," Andrea said dismissively. "Now, Carol—my research says you've got twelve to twenty-four hours to get the egg fertilized, so you'll need to let Daryl know when you're ovulating."

Daryl's face ran red. Carol's felt hot, so she imagined they looked much the same. She already knew the process, of course, but it wasn't something she'd ever imagined discussing with practical strangers.

"And then…" Carol breathed out.

"I am willing to—help. If you need it," Andrea said.

"Help?" Merle offered from his seat. Carol couldn't quite explain his expression beyond a cross between morbid curiosity and disgust. Andrea ignored her husband.

"Everything I've read said that the more you try to fertilize the egg during the window of time, the better your chances are. You sort of stack the deck. But—um—it also said that it isn't unusual for it to take like five cycles if you're just starting this, so, if it's not right away, that's OK. Everything said that anxiety and stress could make it harder…and if you can…you know…achieve orgasm? That ups your chances. Anyway—uh—so I picked up three kits, but we can get more if you need them. I also got this. It's sperm-safe lube, so it won't, you know, cause any damage or lessen your chances. You can clean the kits or, you know, just go with one that's fresh and sterile to avoid any risk of infection. Now what I read is that—you'll want to insert the syringe as far as you comfortably can because you have to get everything in place. Keep your hips elevated for like thirty minutes afterward for the best chances. And—you'll both want to be in the same place because the—uh—the sperm needs to be kept warm or it'll die."

"What the actual hell?" Merle commented. He picked up one of the wrapped syringes.

"You have to get the sperm in place, Merle," Andrea said. "This is how you do this so that everyone is more comfortable." Her own cheeks were blood red now, and Carol was glad that everyone in the room was at least somewhat uncomfortable. It made it a bit more tolerable that they were all uncomfortable together.

"Let me ask you somethin', Andrea," Merle said, holding up the syringe. "This looks like a damned torture device to me. Would you want me to shove this up your pussy?"

"Jesus, Merle!" Daryl spat.

"Merle!" Andrea barked.

Merle laughed instead of seeming offended.

"Hear me the fuck out!" Merle yelled back to raise his voice over their protests. He looked directly at Carol, and she fought the desire to look away. "What if I told you that—I know about a way to put the sperm right the hell where it needs to be? Keep it the right damn temperature, 'cause it comes straight from the source where the heat is perfectly regulated. And—I don't got a pussy, but I'm willin' to be it's gonna feel a whole lot better than shovin' this shit up there, and goes a helluva long ways toward that gettin' off thing you hopin' to do. Besides that—if it's better to go a couple times, hell the clean-up is a whole lot easier than tryin' to wash this shit."

"Merle!" Andrea barked at him.

"I'm just sayin' there's a way to do this that's been workin' for people for millions of years, Andrea, and it involves a lot less fuckin' plastic! It don't make sense that they don't enjoy some of the damn perks of this shit!"

Carol wasn't sure if overwhelmed was the right word for what she felt, but she definitely felt something that made her chest tight and her stomach ache.

It was Daryl's reaction, though, that pulled her out of her own feelings and gave her the chance to focus on something else. She calmed some, thanks to the distraction and the ability to be concerned for someone else instead of just being wrapped up in her own thoughts.

"You're an asshole!" Daryl barked at his brother. He waved his hand in Carol's direction. "Now you ruined the whole damned thing and she ain't even gonna do it because you ain't never learned when the hell to just keep your damn mouth shut!"

Daryl stormed out of the kitchen and out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Carol's abusive husband had taught her that explosions—yelling and anger—were terrifying. They led to violence and pain. However, Daryl's explosion hadn't led to violence. He'd done something that Ed Peletier had never done. He'd walked away. And the only pain at the moment, Carol was certain, was Daryl's—and maybe Merle's.

Carol hadn't seen, in Daryl's explosion, real anger, though. What she was pretty sure she'd seen was embarrassment and, more than that, disappointment and hurt. He was afraid that he'd lost something that meant a great deal to him.

Merle, at his seat, looked a little chagrined. He lit a cigarette for himself. Andrea apologized on behalf of everyone as she sat down in her chair, her face going immediately into her hands. Merle spoke from his seat.

"I weren't tryin' to be an asshole," he offered. "For maybe the first damn time in my life. I weren't. I was sincerely pointin' out that, from my perspective, there's a way that ought to at least be on the table among all the plastic and shit we got here. Mouse—if I have done or…or said…anything that would make you take away my brother's chance at this—at his kid? I'm sorry. Be pissed at me. Not him. That's the best damn apology I got."

Carol could feel that the apology was sincere, as was the apology that Andrea had offered her. Both of them looked sad—maybe even sick.

"I don't need an apology," Carol offered, standing up. "This is something none of us have figured out yet. I think what I need is to talk to Daryl."

Merle hummed and nodded his head.

"Save yourself time," he said. "Go out the back door. He'll be in the shop."