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

Authors Note #1: This is a response fill for the USS Caryl's 'Difficult Decisions' Fanfiction/Fanart Challenge – meant to answer the following prompt: "Carol and Daryl get together, but it's all a dream."

Warnings: Spoilers for all four seasons and should be considered AU after the events of the end of season four. References Daryl and Carol's past, mature language, mature content, allusions to an established Caryl relationship.

Hypothetically Speaking

Chapter One

The sun was setting, staining the horizon with a warm orange-red glow. It was the same sky he'd seen all his life. And probably the only one he'd ever see, if he was being honest. And regardless of his childhood dreams, he'd made his peace with that. A few years ago, back before all this had happened, the thought would have rankled him. He'd always figured that when Merle finally evened out – got clean – he'd finally be able to do all the shit he wanted to do.

He'd had plans, weren't much, but he'd had 'em all the same.

Georgia was where every Dixon, as far back as his old man could remember, had been born and raised. They hadn't seen any reason to leave, and like Merle had told him more than once growing up, why should he?

The corners of his lips twitched as Carol shifted in his lap, dozing in the late summer sun. He shook his head. He'd gained more here - in his home state - than he deserved. That much he knew for certain. He didn't believe in fate or luck or even the big man upstairs. But even he couldn't deny that in a twisted, roundabout sort of way, he'd been blessed.

After all, what was a little wanderlust compared to this?

He looked down at her, eyes lingering on the way their fingers were laced together. His throat tightened. It'd taken half of forever to get to this point. And honestly, part of him was still expecting to wake up. To find himself back in his bunk at the prison, or on the road like he'd been with Beth, Joe and all those other assholes, only to realize that everything that'd happened since had just been one long-ass dream.

She yawned, not seeming to notice he was lost in thought as she snuggled close.

Christ, she made it seem so easy.

Hell, any sane person would have bailed a long ass time ago. And after all, how could he blame 'em? By all rights Carol should have gone for someone a little less damaged – someone younger and easier to mold. But she hadn't. Not once. Not even when he'd done his best to drive her away. She'd been there since the beginning and despite his doubts, something deep in his gut told him that was where she'd stay.

And fuck if he wasn't the luckiest bastard this side of the apocalypse because of it. Greedy too, because now that he had her, he sure as hell wasn't about to let her go.

Somewhere, not too far off, a wolf bayed. The sound spread, echoing in the silence as he considered the months – years - that had spanned out since they'd lost the prison. After the dust up in Terminus, after Carol, Tyreese and littleasskicker had waltzed in and given all those cannibalistic fuckers something new to chew on, they'd wandered, aimless – placeless for a long time. It wasn't until they came across a mall, about five hundred clicks east of anything that could actually be called a city, that things took a turn for the better.

It'd been small, defensible, and had promise despite being almost completely cleared out by scavengers since whatever containment measures had failed in the little podunk town that bordered it. It'd taken more than a few years, but now it was home. They had crops growing in solar boxes on the roof and eventually, in the dirt beside the parking lot that ringed the inner fences.

It'd been tough slugging, with more than a few setbacks, but they'd made it.

They hadn't been set up for more than a week or two, still in the process of stocking up and figuring out the lay of the land when the first group of survivors came to treat at their front gate. It'd been a small group, ragged, lean, on their last legs, but they'd been close, a family in all but blood.

They were led by a woman with red hair and a jaw-line that could have cut marble. She went by the name of Striker, and broached her terms in no uncertain words when they'd met her group – six strong – at the front gates. He hadn't been sure whether to laugh or be impressed when she'd leveled them with a no nonsense look that had only softened when she caught sight of Judith, pudgy arms wind-milling as she tottered unsteadily towards Beth and Tara in the shade. Still trying to figure out how that whole walking thing worked as she fell smack on her butt and giggled herself into an early nap.

They'd been stand-offish for the first little while, keeping to themselves and generally quick on the draw when they figured they were being threatened. Honestly, it'd been a lot like sticking your hand into a box of pissed off, half-feral tom-cats, hoping they wouldn't slash your hand off when you made a grab for 'em.

But Rick had been content to give them their space. They'd been together since the very beginning and it was only circumstance - getting mowed down by a group of scavengers a few months before – that'd forced them to risk the generosity of strangers. In the end, patience and more than a little bit of spoilin', with Carol and the others going out of their way to make them feel welcome, finally paid off.

More groups had followed, only a handful over the years, but they'd welcomed each and every one. Finding that a bit of overcrowding and conflicting personalities was well worth it when it came to the occasional group of numbnuts that tried their luck at the outer gates – plannin' to take what wasn't theirs.

The roof was by far his favorite spot. You could see for miles and there was always a breeze. The air tasted different up here – cleaner. And as was their habit, they were tangled together, leaning up against one of the air conditioning units – well hidden if anyone else decided to come up and sample the evening breeze.

And just like Glenn and Maggie had claimed the guard tower all those years ago, this was their place. They'd claimed it first thing, in more ways than one, before they'd even chosen a place to kip for the night. At the very least, it gave the others something to gossip about.

Busybodies.

He blinked, squinting as the dying light fractured across the horizon. The shadows were spreading, eating up the squat buildings and sagging power lines of the deserted town that spiraled out between them. He shifted, restless, struggling to keep a lid on the words he'd been mulling over all day as she blinked up at him. Her expression was soft but questioning as her head tipped back in his lap.

The dark fan of her lashes flirted with the freckled pale of her skin, highlighting perfection and imperfection alike. But with her, he'd never been able to tell the difference. He'd come to the conclusion long ago, that she was his kind of perfect and had left it at that. Less headaches that way.

"Would you change anything?" he finally asked, avoiding her eyes in favor of gesturing off into the sunset, keeping his expression neutral as she unfolded herself from his lap and leaned against his shoulder.

"Hypothetically speaking?" she asked, breaking the mood by grinning into his shirt sleeves when he snorted, ignoring the distant score of metal on metal as a couple of walkers rattled ineffectually at the outer gates.

"I'm serious."

There was a pause. Just like he'd known there would be. Scant moments where he knew their thoughts were lingering on the same thing – a spit of dirty blonde hair and a skinny little mess of thin limbs and awkward freckles – before her expression cleared.

Instead, she sighed, letting go of a lilting hum of sound that seemed far too content considering the circumstances before she shook her head. Blue eyes shot-through with heat-sleep and the last muted traces of pleasure that lingered from when he'd seized her by the waist halfway up the stairs and tossed her over his shoulder. Ears still ringing with her cries from when he'd yanked down her jeans and used his tongue to make her sing.

She brought him down to her with the weight of a single finger. Forgoing the kiss he saw brewing in the back of her gaze in an effort to belay her seriousness.

"I am right where I'm supposed to be."

Her smile was like the sunrise, like the beginning and end of every single day he had left to him in this world. And as stars gradually took shape above them, he figured that was all the assurance a man like him ever needed.

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