Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: For the USS Caryl's "All Good things must come to an end" fanfiction/fanart challenge. I chose the "Caryl baby" option.

Warnings: Contains general spoilers for all five seasons, adult language and mature content, mild smut, Daryl's shitty childhood and Carol dealing with the loss of a child in Sophia and wading through her own emotions of bringing an unexpected child into the world. Clear references to: semi-established relationship, past domestic violence, spousal abuse, child abuse, vague allusions to abortion-related thoughts, as well as touching on the idea of abandonment and what it means to have a baby at the end of the world.

Empires Fall (so that the children of the new might lisp a plan)

Chapter One

She woke up slowly to the taste of salt and old linen. Breasts aching, full in a way that she was already an old hand at recognizing. Maternal and timely with the knowledge that there would likely be a hungry little one burbling and spitting himself awake sooner rather than later for his breakfast.

She breathed deep – slow – testing the idea of consciousness before she decided to really commit to it. She curled her toes, star-fishing out in a lazy stretch as the neat, empty span of sheets beside her told her what she already knew. That she was alone and that Daryl hadn't come to bed.

Again.

There was a sigh in there somewhere, just as much as there was a smile. Lurking under nine months of second guessing and emotional turmoil. It hadn't been easy. Not on her. Not on him. Not on anyone, really. Lori's death had still been too fresh for the others to really let themselves get invested in the idea. Even the Alexandrians' had been nervous – as well-meaning as they were. But along with the recent loss of anything resembling a real doctor and the fact that she wasn't exactly getting any younger. Well, let's just say, 'kid-gloves' had been an understatement.

It had been a lot to take in. She knew that better than anybody. She'd done the math. Weighed the options. Sitting on the toilet seat in the house she was only just getting used to calling her own. Head in her hands, refusing point blank to acknowledge the way her fingers were trembling as the second pregnancy test in a two weeks glowed proudly positive from the dusty tiles at her feet.

It was all risk with very little possibility of reward. And it'd kept her stalled for weeks.

Keeping the baby had been the hardest decision she'd ever made. She'd come close to ending it more than once during those first few months. Crying herself to sleep as she clutched the hair elastic on her wrist and tried to remember how she'd felt the day a much simpler looking pregnancy test had colored a plus into the little circle in her and Ed's cramped little master bathroom.

She'd been happy then.

She knew that much.

Back when she thought she still had a chance at fixing her marriage. Fixing him.

Sophia had always wanted a brother or sister. She'd spent a solid year begging and pleading when her friend's parents started trying for baby number two or three. It had been the only reason why she hadn't gone in and gotten her tubes tied like she knew she should have. She'd lied to Ed. Told him the doctors were forced to do it after Sophia had been born. That there had been some sort of complication. That if they tried again the risks were just too high.

He'd kicked her down the stairs for it, pissed to hell that he wouldn't get the son he wanted. But she'd burned with the knowledge that she'd made the right decision. She wasn't going to bring another child into the world for him to abuse. She'd rather suffer the harsh edge of his hand a hundred times over than give him another receptacle for his rage. So, she'd played it smart. Squirreling away money for the pills when she could. And trying to bring him off in other ways the rest of the time. Using the fact that he was usually half-drunk and content to just bruise up her mouth rather than climb on top of her to satisfy himself. Grateful, for the first time since he'd put that ring on her finger, that Ed had never been one to reciprocate - especially when he'd already gotten what he wanted.

But the dream had never completely died. Holding onto the idea that when she finally got up the courage to leave, she could give her little girl what she'd always wanted. Filling their new lives with all the good the world had to offer rather than remaining stagnant in the bad. She thought that dream had withered up, dried out like leather cured and stretched as the years had passed and Sophia grew up under Ed's surly mutterings and violent temper.

She wasn't immune to the irony.

The fact that it was here – now - of all times and places, that the dream had finally broken ground.

Daryl had spent the first few months after she started showing – when it'd finally hit home and started becoming real - avoiding her like the plague. It had stung. She could admit that now. But she'd understood it. He'd needed time. And frankly, he hadn't been the only one. Besides, she knew him well enough to know that when he was ready, he'd find his way home.

She knew how it had happened.

Oh, she had a good idea of the timing even.

She'd been teasing him. Sprawled out and posed across one of the mattresses in the department store they were looting. She'd been baiting him, getting his blood up, watching an embarrassed flush make tracks through his stubble before he just launched himself at her. Calling her bluff as they both went down across the mattress in a tangle of sweaty limbs and dust.

She remembered the huff of laughter that had left his throat. The way he'd rubbed his cheek into the curling spikes of her hair - hips working – driving into her hard, slick and precise. She remembered the way he'd gasped, whispering her name against the soft line of her lips. Wondering. Frozen. One step from the edge until she snuck a hand between them and set him free.

So, you see, it wasn't really a matter of wondering how it had happened. Everyone involved knew how that worked. It was just that she hadn't given the consequences much thought at the time. The odds, if they'd ever been that, had seemed like impossibilities. There had been nothing to indicate that this time would be any different than the dozens of other times they'd lost themselves in each other since they'd arrived in Alexandria, and one thing had eventually led to the other.

It had been a spur of the moment thing. A rare, precious little instance where she didn't have to coax him into it. Where she didn't have to remind him that he was allowed to have this – her – that she wanted it. Craved it. And would settle for nothing less than her full share and more.

She supposed that was when the fates really laughed.

Making a mockery out of best intentions and poorly thought out plans.

Because the truth was, they had no one but themselves to blame.

And as one might expect, that had been of remarkably little comfort the day she'd headed out with a Sasha and a day-pack. Determined to find a drug store to tell her what her body already knew as she fought the urge to either vomit or cave in to the questioning looks the woman was giving her as the silence stretched like the miles of blacktop underneath their feet.

It hadn't been until she was nearly five months along that he'd knocked on the door. Fresh from a recruiting mission with Aaron and Eric, all hesitant and soft like he was unsure of his welcome – hunched shoulders looming in the paned glass as the others quickly made themselves scarce. He'd been filthy and tired, with low-riding bags punched like bruises under his eyes. Clutching the rumpled edges of a dog-eared copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting," like it was some sort of life-line. Remorseful and uncertain, but there all the same as he took her in without filter. Staring, expression conflicted, at the new curve of her. The low riding press of where her – their – child was growing.

She hadn't slept for two days and her back had been killing her. But somehow, with him there, all that vanished. Paling in comparison when she took in the way Daryl was looking like he was ten seconds from either bolting or squirming clear out of his skin. Watching her carefully from under the protective-dark of his fringe. Hopeful and quiet. Leaving the evolution of the moment up to her as he offered everything he had to the silence.

She wasn't strong enough to let the moment stretch as long as it should have before she broached the space and threw her arms around his neck. Almost sobbing with the pure relief of it as he held onto her just as tightly. Anchoring her close like she was something precious, breakable, but most of all, his, as they stalled in the doorway. Breathing in each other's air as the tension that had been thrumming through her since the day he'd bolted – snarling and angry - dissipated like mist at sunrise.

He might have even said it. Whispering "sorry, sorry. Christ, Carol, I'm so sorry," into her hair over and over again. Burying his face into the soft of her neck like he needed her just to breathe, chest fluttering nervously. Grazing her bump every other exhale as she felt the tension bleed out of him like something twisted and alive. Wringing him out – blood to bone – so that when she finally coaxed him upstairs, he was asleep in her arms before suppertime.

He never said it out loud.

He didn't have to.

After all they'd been through, finding his way back to her had been all the apology she'd needed.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – There will be one more chapter, stay tuned!