Summary: No guarantees. That was what Carol had said to him. No guarantees that they would win. No guarantees at all. Spoilers for Season 8B ensue.

Standard disclaimer for all my stories: My stories are graphic, angsty, frustrating, filled with cliffhangers, drama and foul language. Read at your own risk – medical issues and subsequent bills are not covered by yours truly ;) If you don't like, please don't read. I appreciate reviews and constructive feedback but if you cannot stand the plot, save yourself and me some time and walk away. I don't own The Walking Dead. My stories are better viewed by using the "half screen" option of FFNET.

A/N: Spoiler warning for anything that has been revealed in the trailers. I don't follow spoilers sites anymore, so you won't see anything that has been said there… unless I somehow use something that has already been seen. Knowing AMC, this is NOT going to happen for us on screen. But that doesn't mean it can't happen on paper.

Hope you enjoy :D

NO GUARANTEES

She felt it in the way he did not return the embrace as eagerly as she had hoped he would after everything they had both gone through in the last few days. There was no lack of enthusiasm, either, but she had immediately known something was off the instant their bodies had clashed. For a moment, she had tried to reason that it was probably because he was holding on to Judith in one arm, and it had been rather awkward to surround him with her arms without crushing the child. Nevertheless, once she pulled away and opened her mouth to speak to Daryl, she heard Enid's loud cry behind her – rendering moot whatever she had been about to ask the hunter.

As she slowly turned her head to find out why Enid was so upset, she felt the warmth of his hand on her back. It slowly crept up her neck, as if in slow motion, until one finger accidentally pulled at her jawline as it then lowered to her neck and his hand settled over her left shoulder. The grasp was strong yet gentle – comforting; and had she not been so distracted by the way Enid fell to her knees in denial and shock, Carol would have enjoyed the tender caress.

Carol returned her gaze to Daryl and she searched his eyes, which were firmly staring at the ground. He bit at his bottom lip a couple of times and sniffled; the nervous tick of his telling her that whatever she was about to find about was not something she had wanted to know. He swallowed hard, looking very much like he had that time at her little cabin, right before he had told her everyone was fine. She knew what that look meant: he was preparing to deliver bad news while trying very hard to find a way to ease the blow for her. Lying to her about something that could have broken her was what he had done in the past. This time, however, she knew in her heart that he was not going to take the same route.

She felt the tips of his fingers lightly scratching at the base of her neck as he finally looked up and locked eyes with her.

"It's Carl," he was barely able to say before his chin trembled enough to force him to close his mouth once more and hang his head again.

"What?" Carol asked in an exhale, not because she had not heard him, but because she could not make her mind process the news a little faster. "Carl?"

This time, instead of uttering a word, Daryl gave her a couple of nods.

"Carl?" Carol repeated, her voice cracking as much as she could hear the rest of her family's voices do as well. She closed her eyes and exhaled rapidly through her mouth a few times before she said the boy's name again.

The next thing she knew, Daryl's grip on her had tightened so that he could guide her back onto his chest. She gladly accepted the silent invitation and returned her arms to their previous post around his waist. As opposed to when she had held him a few seconds ago, she now desperately clutched to his shirt and dug her face in his neck for disparate reasons. He mirrored her moves as much as he could with Judith still in his hold, not caring who saw them fall apart in each other's arms.

Why would either of them be uncomfortable with the fact that they had an audience, anyway? Yet another member of their family was gone. Crumbling from within was to be expected.

The pair stood there, being each other's lifelines for a long time, until a red-faced Maggie took Judith from the tracker – or at least, she tried.

"I got her," Maggie said when she realized that Daryl's mourning was not distracting him from protecting the little girl. "She needs to eat. Drink some water. It was a long walk here. She needs rest."

Hearing Maggie bring them back to reality, Carol reluctantly pulled away from Daryl's neck, but she kept part of her body pressed against his. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her right hand and sniffled, hating the fact that they now lived in a world where there was no time to grieve for the ones you lost.

Maybe later, she hoped. Maybe once the war was over, they would. If they won.

"Daryl?" Maggie insisted with a slight tug on the girl's body, earning her the archer's resigned consent. He carefully passed Judith towards Maggie as if he were handing her the most fragile porcelain doll in the world, wrapping up the gesture by running his left hand over the child's head.

"You gonna behave?" he asked, and the little girl immediately turned to him to nod, knowing from experience that the man was addressing her.

"Uh-huh," the child added with a small smile, for good measure. She did not want to do anything that would disappoint her Uncle Daryl.

"A'right," was all he said after that.

When he returned his attention to Carol, he did so by properly embracing her and holding her for a while longer until it was time to break apart.

xxxXXXxxx

They had hoped that Michonne and Rick would have returned hours ago, after burying Carl, but so far there was no sign of them. The sun was already starting to set, and if neither of them showed up in the next hour or so, they would have to make plans without them. Perhaps even put them into place without the approval from Rick, and as early as the next day.

There was no other choice, if it came to it. They simply could not wait. They just could not. Alexandria was gone. The Saviors had settled at The Kingdom. There was only one major target left and they were in it. Only one community left; their inhabitants already half-broken and heavily distraught as it was. There was only one possible place where everyone that was unaccounted for by the Saviors could seek refuge in, no matter how risky it was. They were in it because they had nowhere else to go. They could not just up and leave, either. If they did, the Saviors would surely find and trap them on the road. If they stayed, the Saviors would just come to Hilltop and surround them.

It was only a matter of time, they all knew, before they found themselves staring at the barrel of a gun. They were all very likely just hours away from facing their untimely deaths. At this point, in fact, after everything that had been said and done and lost, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that they needed a fucking miracle to win this war.

A miracle that, with their proven track-record of invoking nothing but shitty luck, would probably never come.

Damned if they did. Damned if they did not. It was just a typical day for the survivors of the fucking end of times.

The knocking on the clinic's door made Carol hastily wipe away the tears that refused to stop. She thought that she had been all cried out already, but the thought of Carl not making it refused to slip away from her mind. She knew that she needed to focus on the here and now, though – at the very least, try finding a way to get the children, the ill, and the elderly to safety before the Saviors arrived. Yet, she could not make herself not think and not feel what she knew Rick and Michonne were deep in right now.

She could not blame them for not returning yet, either. She doubted anyone could or would.

When the knocking happened again, she invited whomever was on the other side of the door to come inside. As the hinges complained at being used, Carol stood up and absentmindedly brushed off her clothes from invisible dust as she walked towards the exit to make her escape. This had been the first place she had been able to hide in from everyone else so that she could think about what to do next, even if all she had done so far was cry over Lori's son. Now, someone else was needing the space; which meant that she had to make herself scarce.

"Hey," his voice caught her by surprise for an instant and her eyes went wide, "Been looking all over for ya."

Carol shrugged and shook her head from side to side, not even trying to offer an explanation as to why she had disappeared from sight and was hiding in the showers like a creep. She knew that she did not need to tell him what was going through her mind, either way. He knew. He somehow almost always knew.

"Are they back?" she said, not bothering to hide from him the fact that she had been crying again but did not lock eyes with him.

"No," Daryl shook his head and distractedly rubbed his right shoulder. "I's gonna ask you to go out with me. Help me track'em nearby. See what we find."

Carol sighed and rubbed her forehead with her right hand. "We can't go look for them now and we can't wait any longer. We've got to do something before the Saviors make their move. Morgan and I… we talked about going back to The Kingdom before you got here. They took it over and Ezekiel stayed behind so that we could leave. They probably don't expect us to go back for him."

Daryl's shoulders sagged and then flinched with the move. "'M sorry 'bout what happened to the people of The Kingdom. I know you liked it there."

"I'm sorry about home," she replied. "About Carl…"

Carol closed her eyes again when the familiar sting of tears made itself known. This time, however, she did not have to envelop herself with her arms to keep the wracking of her body from getting out of control. This time, she did not have to fight alone against her soul trying to force itself out of its shell against her wishes. This time, Daryl was there in the blink of an eye to help ease the pain with a tight hug.

"It's like losing her all over again, Daryl," Carol whispered after a moment of silence between them. "It's like a never-ending loop of seeing her coming out of that damn barn. I know it's not the same, and I know it's not about her… it's about Carl. But, I… I just can't…"

He said nothing, because there was nothing to say. Sophia was gone, and now Carl was gone, too. The two children that they had done their best to protect from the new world were now only alive in their dreams. There were no words in the world that would make that untrue. There was nothing anyone could say that would make it hurt any less. All he could do was show her that he was here for her – would be here for her, if they both made it out of this.

Feeling slightly more put together after being the recipient of his moral support, Carol inched away from his chest to thank him with a small smile and her blue orbs. He replied by placing his curled index finger under her chin; just as he had done when they had found her and Maggie alive at the satellite outpost of the Saviors. He wore the same look of searching of back then. His thumb shook beneath her chin, just as before.

He was so close. Closer than they had ever been while just staring at each other. Close enough to breathe what he exhaled. Close enough to see him lick his lips and stare at her mouth. Yet, not close enough to feel them pressed against hers.

When he slightly rounded his right shoulder and grimaced, Carol's gaze traveled to the gauze that was sticking out from under his shirt. It was barely holding onto his skin; the white of it turned dingy with dirt, rendering the item practically obsolete. She narrowed her eyes at it, having no doubt that he had not changed it since she had replaced it for him when he had found her in the outskirts of The Kingdom.

"That gauze is no good," she stated. "Is it bothering you?"

"Something awful," he admitted, much to her surprise. Had it been any other day, he would have shrugged off the nuisance. However, he would be damned if he was unsuccessful in protecting his family because a fucking wound slowed his ass down.

"Let me change it?" she asked, her legs already taking her in the direction of the medicine cabinet in the room.

He did not agree, but he also did not disagree, which was as close to consent as she knew she was going to get out of him. She heard him drop his crossbow onto the gurney and then caught the unmistakable shuffling of fabric against skin. By the time she turned around to face him again, she was shocked to find him leaning against the makeshift bed, staring back at her, completely bare from the waist up.

She has seen him like this before, at least a couple of times, but none of these times had it been his choice to be so exposed. Even when Denise had patched up the stabbing wound that the Saviors had given him when he, Abraham and Sasha had been trying to get back home after redirecting the heard, Daryl had removed barely enough of his vest to allow the doctor to work on him. Then, when he had shown up at her doorstep to ask her why she had left them, he had only undone some of the top buttons of his shirt.

This time, however…

Knowing that showing any hint of how much the trust he had in her affected her lest he misunderstood her behavior, Carol focused on doing what she was supposed to do. She slowly peeled off the already dangling gauze at the front. The one that had been on his back was not even there anymore. She took turns cleaning up each side, sterilizing the wounds and their surrounding areas as much as she could, checking for signs of infection while she was at it. The injuries were nowhere near healed, but they were also not showing signs of getting worse.

"Stitches are gone," Carol said as she began applying the new gauzes on him.

"Get new ones later," he replied.

Carol scoffed and shook her head, earning her a curious look from the archer.

"What?" Daryl asked, trying not to shiver at how her fingers were pressing the medical tape on his skin.

"Nothing."

"It ain't nothing. It ain't never nothing with you."

"Not sure how to take that."

"Ain't meant to be an insult," he clarified. "Ya just don't let others take care of you."

"Taking care of others is my job… was my job… I guess…" she shook her head in disappointment at her own shortcomings and then turned around in place, her body rushing her to the trashcan to throw away the wrappings and used-up gauze, and then to return the tape to its rightful place. Once she was done with the task, she hesitated to come back to him, not wanting to bother him with her burdens, but he made it so that she did not have to make the effort at all.

The first sign of him standing behind her was the barely perceptible feeling of his hands on either side of her waist. His fingers alternated between touching and leaving her body, as if he was testing the waters of how much she would let him get away with. When she did not show any signs of being bothered by it, his gesture only became bolder. His hands firmly and practically circled her waist, and he rested his forehead on the back of her head. The move made her close her eyes and sigh in contentment despite how guilty she felt for enjoying his touch like this. She knew that Daryl was relatively new at showing how much he cared about his people in a physical way. She did not want to fool herself by overthinking or misconstruing what his advances of the moment meant.

He was simply trying to comfort her, that was all. He was just trying to take away some of the pain she felt, nothing more. Or that much she kept telling herself, even after she felt his chin rest on her left shoulder.

"We can still win," he whispered near her ear. "I know how it looks, but it ain't over 'til it's over. And it ain't over yet."

Carol swallowed hard and inhaled in sharps breaths. "Winning just means we get tomorrow. And maybe one more night. After that, no guarantees."

"Can't think like that."

"There's no other way to think!"

She felt his surprised flinch at hearing her raise her voice at him. It was usually he who lost his cool and started shouting when the going got rough. She being the one to do so at him was a first.

She opened her mouth to apologize to him – to tell him that it was not he she was mad at, but her voice died in her lips when she felt him pull his body away from hers. Carol cursed herself inwardly. Here was the poor man, trying his best to be supportive in ways he was a novice at; trying to both learn and apply something he had never been taught in his entire life – and she had all but shoved his efforts back at him.

She was not wrong, though. This could very well be their last night in relative peace. Alive. Together. Tonight could become it for them.

"Daryl," she said as she turned in place to face him. "I–"

"Don't," his voice was barely loud enough for her to hear. "I don't wanna fight. Not with you. Not tonight."

"I'm sorry," she said and took a small step towards him, his body engulfed by the shadows in the room, giving him enough notice and time to pull away if she had fucked this up too much.

"Don't gotta be," he shrugged, and it was then that she realized that he was yet to put his shirt back on.

She tried not to gawk at him, but it was rare that she had the chance to see him like this: so physically exposed and emotionally vulnerable – and by his call, at that.

She was not mistaken. There were no guarantees of anything, or about anything after tonight. However, was life before The Turn not already like that?

Hesitation. Doubt. Regrets. All of these feelings had been predominant in her life before the dead rose back to a resemblance of life. Why in the holy hell was she making the same mistakes again?

He held her gaze without hesitation. Without doubt. Without regrets. And it was then that she finally knew; that she finally felt brave enough, to do what happened next.

Encouraged by the fact that he was not making any effort to move and that he did not seem bothered by her wandering eyes, Carol slowly closed the distance between them again. Her right arm lifted on its own accord, and her fingers twitched in the air near his chest. She quickly composed herself and made a fist of her hand; it being the only thing keeping her from brazenly brushing his skin with her fingertips. Before she completely lowered her hand, however, Daryl held her arm by the wrist. He slowly pulled her hand towards his torso, her fingers splaying over his heart when they finally made contact with his skin. He spread his hand over hers to secure it against his chest, giving her an opportunity come to terms with the fact that his heart was currently beating a million times a second because of her. Every galloped beat of his heart against her palm was equally matched by her own, leaving her no room to misjudge what he was trying to communicate without words.

She closed her eyes and leaned towards his free hand cupping her cheek. She shuddered in anticipation when his grip tightened on her face and he pulled her towards him. She did not dare to open her eyes to break the spell she was under, but she did not need to do so to know that his face was inches from hers. She could feel the electrical charge between their pores. She could practically hear the static energy crackling. The heat of his breath near her lips made her moisten her own with the tip of her tongue, only to then feel the dampness almost evaporate in a sizzle by the warmth of his nose rubbing against her face.

He was giving her everything and nothing, all at the same time. And he would have given her more had someone not just knocked on the door.

As loud as the sound of a grenade going off, the bubble that had encapsulated them in a world where only the two of them lived finally popped. The smoke and mirrors dissipated. The heat of the moment turned into blocks of thick ice. The opportunity to make the most of a world without guarantees slipped through their hands, leaving them with nothing more than regret.

Carol was the first one to pull away from Daryl, as it was her name they were calling for outside. Morgan wanted to talk to her, and he wanted to do so right now.

xxxXXXxxx

Michonne and Rick arrived shortly after midnight. They forced themselves to sleep at least for a couple of hours before they were up and about again, just before dawn.

"Let's talk this out with the others," Rick told Michonne as they both walked in the direction where the rest of their family tried to rest. "I'll get Carol, you get Daryl, and we'll meet back in the lobby."

"Alright," Michonne replied, her steps almost inaudible as she went up the stairs with him.

He watched her rush down the hall and knock on Daryl's door and get an almost immediate response to her call. Rick, however, had to wait a few seconds for his knocking to be addressed, and not by the person he thought that would do so.

Rick furrowed his brow and then looked back and forth between an equally confused Michonne at the other end of the hall, standing in front of Tara, and then at the familiar man before him. The sheriff looked left and right, tilted his head to the side, and then cleared his throat.

"I, uhm… is-is Carol here?"

Daryl swallowed hard and shook his head while he worked the belt around his pants. "She's gone."

"Gone?"

"Yup," Daryl said, obviously displeased by the fact, and then returned inside Carol's room.

From his position at the threshold, Rick could see the rumpled sheets and the scattering of clothes on the floor. He silently watched as the hunter picked up his shirt and vest, put them both on, and then grabbed his bow on his way back to the door. Without even thinking about it, Rick stepped aside to let Daryl join him in the hall. The tracker then closed the door behind him after stealing once last glance at the only evidence of his night with Carol before he returned his attention to Rick.

"We gettin' ready?" Daryl asked, clearly in no mood to explain what he had been doing in Carol's room or why he knew that she was gone. It was pretty fucking obvious, and Rick was a goddamned cop. If he could not solve this puzzle, it was his fault. Daryl was not going to spell it out for him… and he would probably make him eat his badge if he tried to ask.

Rick Grimes, however, was no fool. And neither was Michonne.

"Tara said Morgan left already," Michonne said as she joined the two men, expertly circumventing the awkwardness of the moment.

"Carol said she and Morgan wanted to get Ezekiel back. Surprise the Saviors. That's why she left…"

…before I woke up.

"Just her and Morgan?" Michonne asked, not doubting at all the ability of her family; only fearing what the Saviors could do, having the upper hand.

"Yeah," Daryl replied.

"Then let's make sure we have a plan they can follow when they come back," Rick said, not even entertaining at all the possibility of the two of them not returning to Hilltop – and definitely not wanting to see what losing Carol would to do all of them. To Daryl, specifically.

"Alright," the archer said as the three of them joined Maggie and Jesus in the lobby, all with the hope that they would be able to end this war, once and for all.

No guarantees. That was what Carol had said to him before he had decided to finally make it clear how he felt about her.

There were no guarantees that they would live after today. No guarantees that they would win.

But that ain't mean that we won't.