AN: I was really hung up on this one, and the person who got me unstuck knows who she is. I'm sure her suggestion was meant as a joke, but it helped anyway!

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

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As soon as Michonne took Dog and Judith to go and get RJ for some quality family time together, Daryl and Carol left the house to take a walk of their own. Daryl took Carol by the house that he'd chosen for Henry, just to point it out to her, and she quickly gave her approval by slipping her arm through his and pulling him toward her to plant a sweet kiss on his jaw as a sign of her appreciation that he'd done something for her son.

While they were walking, they'd been approached by one of the older ladies in the community that had met them as she was coming out of her house. She'd asked if Daryl had a moment or two to spare to help her something she needed moved around in her house. Carol had ushered him on to help the woman, and she'd told him that she'd meet him back at the house. She wanted to stop by the storage area for a few minutes, first, and then she intended to head back to relax in their little basement home.

Daryl had kissed her and sent her on her way—happy that she might actually go and get something for herself, even if it was simply some snack to satisfy a craving that had come over her—and he'd followed the old lady into her house. While he was in there, he'd moved the piece of furniture for her that she'd asked him to move, and he'd moved another piece that she realized she'd like moved while he was there. Then he'd changed a couple of light bulbs for her that she couldn't reach without a ladder—something that was, honestly, probably dangerous at her age—and he'd tightened a few things, here or there, that had worked themselves loose.

Satisfied that he'd done all he could to help the woman, he'd accepted her offer of a half a loaf of some kind of sweet-smelling bread she'd baked, and he'd headed home.

Daryl expected Carol to be back in their basement bedroom when he got there, but she was nowhere to be found. Daryl wasn't too concerned. He'd just come from outside, and he knew Alexandria well enough to know that, if there were anything dramatic going on, he would have heard some commotion. More than likely, Carol was busy looking at things, or else she'd gotten tangled up talking to someone. Her belly was just starting to be noticeable to those who didn't already know to look for it, and Daryl imagined that it was going to spark more conversations as people noticed it more readily.

Daryl grabbed a knife and a plate, and he took the sweet-smelling bread down to the basement. On his way through the living room, he'd also grabbed up the book that Michonne had brought for Judith and Carol to read together. Upon inspection, the bread that the old lady had given him—he thought she'd said her name was Mildred, or Margie, or something with an M— was some kind of cinnamon laden nut bread. Daryl ate a small piece of it, but he decided to save the lion's share of it until he'd had the opportunity to find out if it was something that Carol—or, more specifically, their daughter—might find interesting.

With little to do except wait for Carol, Daryl settled back on the bed to relax and opened up the book that Michonne had chosen for Judith and Carol to read. Michonne had already told them it was a book written for adults, and it was.

Daryl quickly scanned his memory for what he'd overheard Siddiq saying about Carol and the baby as he'd been loitering outside the office the last time. There were pages in the back dedicated to the progress of their growing baby, and Daryl settled on the page that marked the spot where he guessed Carol was in her pregnancy. He read a few pages, before and a few after, uncertain about the exact week in which Carol might be at that moment. Siddiq had admitted it was a little difficult to tell exactly, especially given that Carol had encountered some difficulty in her earliest months.

Daryl was more invested in the book than he might have wanted to admit, when he heard a loud noise. He jumped, startled by the noise, and tossed the book at the bed.

The noise repeated and his heartbeat started to slow a little as he identified the sound. Someone was thumping around in the stairwell that led to the basement and, from the sound of things, they were dragging something heavy.

"Who is it?" Daryl called.

"The Big Bad Wolf," came Carol's reply. Daryl laughed to himself when he heard her little giggle at the end.

"You need some help?" Daryl asked.

Carol bumped her way down the steps.

"No," she said. "I've got it."

Daryl laughed to himself as she made it down the stairs and rounded the corner, dragging a black bag behind her.

"First—tell me you ain't carried that big thing since storage."

"I didn't," Carol said. "Don't worry. I met—what was his name? I think I forgot to ask him his name!"

Daryl laughed at Carol's slightly horrified expression.

"You met someone that carried your bag?" Daryl offered. "It's alright, I don't remember what that woman told me her name was, and I talked to her for a while."

"He was a nice man," Carol said. "I know that he's here with his wife—they started in West Virginia, actually. They haven't been here long. They don't have any kids yet, but they're hoping to have some. Anyway—he asked me if I needed a hand just as I was coming out of storage and he carried it all the way here. I knew I could drag it once I got it in the door."

Carol stood beside her loaded black bag like a hunter standing beside some kind of trophy kill. Daryl couldn't help but smile to himself.

"That lil' trip draggin' it took it out of you," Daryl said. "I see you sweatin'."

"I'm sweating because I'm pregnant," Carol said. "And she's getting heavy."

"I looked her up," Daryl said. "In your book. Said she could easily weigh a pound, but that's not that much, Carol. A pound ain't really heavy."

"Well—I'm sure you'll show me exactly how easy it is to carry around our one-pound little dumpling when you're pregnant," Carol offered. "Why don't you take the next one, and I'll just sit it out?"

Daryl didn't miss that there was just a bit of a nip to her voice and some annoyance ran across her features.

"Don't get pissy," Daryl said. "I wasn't sayin' you couldn't feel however you feel. I was just sayin' that—I don't know shit about this and a pound don't seem like nothin'. That's all."

She frowned at him.

"I don't know if she weighs a pound," Carol said. "If she's supposed to…she's probably underweight. She always is."

"Come here," Daryl said, patting the bed. "Bring your bag. I didn't mean to ruin whatever you were doing. I'm sorry."

Carol sighed, but she did come over. She dragged her bag behind her with a little less enthusiasm than she'd shown before, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. Daryl put his arm around her and hugged her to him, hoping to simply make her feel better any way that he could.

"It don't matter if she's underweight or not," Daryl said, reaching over and rubbing his hand over Carol's belly. "Siddiq says she's perfect."

Carol smiled to herself, pleased with the reminder. Daryl was simply pleased to see the smile. He rubbed her belly and she covered his hand with her own.

Daryl felt the sensation against his palm—relatively strong and almost rhythmic.

"Carol…"

"Hmmm?" Carol asked, leaning into him.

"Is that you or…her?" Daryl asked.

Carol smiled at him. Her smile spread even wider.

"Can you feel her? She's been bouncing around since—I guess since almost when I got to the door of the house," Carol said.

Daryl smiled to himself. The sensation didn't fade for a second, and then it did. Carol moved his hand, though, just slightly, and he picked it up again.

"Not as strong," he pointed out.

"Could be her position," Carol said. "I don't know." She raised her eyebrows at Daryl. "Maybe she's scolding you for saying that it wasn't any effort carrying her around."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"That ain't what I said," he said. "But—if it makes you and her feel better to scold me, go ahead. I only meant that—from where I'm sittin'? If I read she weighs a pound, that just don't seem like much. Like you wouldn't notice you gained a pound."

"It's more than that," Carol said. "It's—everything. It's not like—just gaining a pound of regular weight. She's not just in there by herself. There's fluid and…there's things rearranging to make room for her. And then there's her."

"I lost her again," Daryl said.

"She stopped," Carol said. Daryl felt his face drop. He didn't mean to make the expression. It happened before he'd even known that it would. He'd liked the idea of feeling the baby move—feeling absolute and undeniable proof that she was there. Carol could feel her, and she could narrate for him what she believed the baby to be doing, but it was different. For a moment, Daryl had touched her. "Sorry, Pookie," Carol said sincerely. "She's probably just resting. Catching her breath. She'll move around some more later." Daryl nodded and Carol's lips turned up in a smile. She leaned and kissed the side of his face. She put her hand on his cheek, and she turned his head to kiss him fully and properly. He gladly returned the kiss. She smiled at him, a little dreamy-eyed, when she pulled away. "You could really feel her?"

Daryl laughed to himself.

"I knew when she stopped, didn't I?" He asked. Carol's cheeks blushed a little pink like she was embarrassed for having asked the question. She nodded. "I liked it. I didn't want it to stop. I liked—touchin' her." Carol's smile renewed itself entirely.

"She'll move again," Carol assured him. "A lot more."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at her, remembering the bread.

"Got somethin' for you," Daryl said. "How's she feelin' about—cinnamon and like sweet bread? Kind of a cake like thing?"

Carol looked like she considered his words a moment. She put her hand over her belly and smiled to herself.

"I don't think she'd hate it," Carol offered. "Why?"

Daryl held a finger up to tell her to wait on him and he quickly retrieved the bread, plate, and knife from the table where he'd left it. He brought it over, unwrapped the bread, and cut off several chunks to offer Carol.

"Where'd you get this?" She asked.

"Payment for helpin' that old woman with a couple things she needed done," Daryl said. "You can eat it. I tried it. It ain't poison. It's pretty good."

Carol hummed as she bit into the bread and, quickly, her expression said she was shocked by the taste of it. She hummed her approval.

"This is so good," she declared around a mouthful of the food. "Here…"

She offered a piece over, pinched between her fingers, and hovered it right at Daryl's lips. He accepted it, purposefully catching her fingers to suck them. She smiled at him, somewhat coyly, as she allowed him to do it.

"Sweetest thing ever," he said.

"I don't think it's too sweet," Carol said, helping herself to another hunk of the bread.

"I weren't talkin' about the bread, neither," Daryl offered.

Carol's cheeks blushed pinkn and she offered him another bite. He shook his head and refused it.

"For you," he said. "For her. I want'cha to eat the whole damn thing."

Carol thanked him and swallowed down what she had in her mouth. She was still holding a hunk of the bread in her hand.

"Could you wrap that up for me? I don't want to eat it all right now, but I'll eat some more later."

Daryl accepted her plan for the food and wrapped the bread up. He returned it, the plate, and the knife to the table where Dog wouldn't get it when he came down and started nosing around their space. On his way back to the bed, Daryl glanced at the black bag. He'd thought he'd managed to get just about anything that anyone could ever want or need when he'd tried to come up with a few things to help Carol nest. She still had a great deal of stuff to go through and put away—the black bags and boxes were pushed, for the time being, to the perimeters of the basement.

"What's in your bag?" Daryl asked, sitting beside Carol again. She sucked her fingers clean from the crumbs and lingering bits of flavor. She smiled, clearly happy with whatever was in her bag, and reached for the bag. She opened it.

"Batting and cloth," Carol said. "I've got a box in there with all kinds of things. Thread and pins. Needles and sewing odds and ends. Scissors. And—I've got all of this beautiful cloth to turn into squares."

She pulled out a handful of what appeared to be assorted sizes and colors of cloth rags.

"Squares for what, Carol?" Daryl asked.

She was beaming, now.

"A quilt," she said. "I'm going to make one for our bed. For when it gets cold. And I'm going to make a little one for the baby."

"We got plenty of blankets," Daryl offered. "Plenty more where that come from. We won't freeze to death. Besides—we can light a fire for heat there."

"I want to make the quilt, Daryl," Carol said. "I can work on it while we read with Judith and just—while we're sitting around. It'll be something I made, for us, while we're together. And I'll make one for her, and she can always have it for—for comfort. To remember that I made it while we were waiting on her."

Daryl felt his pulse pick up. The change in pace was fueled by the expression on her face. The tone of her voice. He could practically feel the affection and love radiating off of her.

This was important.

Daryl smiled at her.

"I think it's wonderful," Daryl said. "You know—there's that table on the other side over there that we don't even use for nothing. Lemme get your bag—you can unpack your stuff. Show me what'cha got."

Daryl accepted the kiss that she gave him and the warm hug. When she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight against her, and he returned the embrace, he couldn't imagine any blanket possibly making him feel warmer than he did at that moment, but he was still anxious to see what Carol would create.