Two weeks later, the morning light bathes Carol in light, stirring her from her slumber.
Since their talk, she and Daryl have let their guards down, allowing their feelings to escape from the place which they'd tried so hard to lock them away.
She snuggles closer to him but is moved to laughter when his beard tickles her face.
"You need to shave," she mumbles before placing a soft kiss on his lips.
He opens one eye, raising its brow. "Will if ya cut yer hair."
She grins. "Only if you let me cut yours."
Carol enjoys the feel of his muscular arms around her body. She feels so safe, so relaxed. It's contentment, but not the type she felt with Ezekiel; where she felt as if she was living. This joy she feels with Daryl, it's the contentment where she feels her happiness has peaked. She feels as if she's alive.
Part of her wishes she could stay here, with him, forever, but she knows she must return. Her ankle's feeling better. It felt better days ago, but she couldn't tear herself away. Now, her guilt's starting to creep back in. Henry may be grown, but he still needs her to guide him. That's without mentioning her people, who'll be wondering where she is.
Though she dreads the thought of it, she needs to talk to Ezekiel. They can't keep pretending, not anymore. She wonders if Gabriel will grant them an annulment. That's the only way. Let us be free to be loved by who we want, Carol muses, him with Luisa and me...with Daryl.
She waits until she's finished trimming Daryl's hair. She cuts it short, close to the length it had been at the farm and reduces his beard to stubble. At last, she can revel in his face, which despite having aged considerably, was still as handsome as ever.
Carol feels a dull ache inside of her, regret for the time they could've spent together. It's been ten years since the change, ten years they've known each other, ten years they've wasted.
They'll waste no more time.
After Daryl hacks off her mane, leaving it curling at her shoulders, she finally feels ready to tear herself away from the cozy little bubble they've created.
"I should get back to the Kingdom," she sighs, taking his hand. "Come with me."
He recoils as that familiar fear squirms within his gut.
"No," he roars, instantly regretting it for he doesn't mean for his words to be so loud.
Carol doesn't flinch. She understands, meeting his eyes, she continues.
"I know you. I know you blame yourself," she reaches, again, for his hand, "but Rick's death wasn't your fault."
He freezes. He was the one who led Rick away from the camp in an attempt to stop him from getting to Maggie. He was the one who started the fight, weakening his friend. He was the one who left Rick to deal with the herd alone.
"Ya weren't there!" He shouts, refusing to take her hand. "He's dead 'cause o' me! Maybe if I hadn't ridden him there, if I hadn't left him, he'd still be alive!"
"You don't know that," she soothes. "It was an accident. It was his horse. It could've happened-"
"No!" he interrupts. "It's on me, like Beth, like Glenn…" He collapses into sobs. "Couldn't even save yer little girl."
She tries to block the memory of Sophia leaving that barn while she embraces him. He rests his head on her shoulder, continuing to cry. She feels just as broken. She hates seeing him in pain. She knows what it's like to carry guilt for too long.
"You can't blame yourself," she soothes. "Think of all the good you've done. You saved me from the farm. You saved me again in the tombs. You found all those people at the prison. You gave them a home. You gave them a chance," she pauses. "You did the same at Alexandria, helping Aaron 'till the war. You kept Judith safe." Daryl stops crying at the name, "Oh, you should see her now. She's so big, nearly as tall as me, and strong. She looks just like Lori, but there's so much of Carl in her."
Daryl lifts his head, meeting Carol's eyes. "What 'bout Rick Jr?"
Carol smiles, her heart-tugging at the realization she's cheering him up. "He's so bossy - just like his Daddy was-" Daryl snorts, encouraging her to continue. "But he's got a good heart. He's smart and kind like his Mom. That boy's going to be a great leader one day."
"Ain't s'prised." He grins, feeling fuzzy inside, the way Carol always makes him feel, like he matters like he's worth something. "Wanna meet him."
Softly, she strokes his cheek. "You will."
They leave after sunrise, heading on foot as neither have a vehicle.
"Where's your bike?" Carol asks, jokingly, as they leave the shack.
"Philadelphia," he mumbles, fighting the swarm of memories that threaten to invade his mind.
Carol notices the look of sorrow on his face, for she asks no further questions. That doesn't mean she doesn't wonder. She knows there must be a story there - and it can't have had a happy ending.
They trek through the woods in silence, meeting few walkers which are put down effortlessly. Daryl's still solemn, and when they reach the interstate Carol suddenly remembers the words that may help him heal.
"We get to start over," she offers as she holds his gaze. "You said that."
He remains silent, refusing to meet her eyes.
"Whatever happened, happened," she continues, reaching for his hand. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. If you want to forget, I'll never mention it again." She stops walking and stands to face him. "But I want us to start over. You and me, together."
Daryl wants it all. He wants to tell her about Philadelphia. He wants to allow himself to feel the pain. That's the only way he knows how to heal. At the same time, he fears it. To relive his darkest moment, to describe it to Carol, to put his pain on her, he can't. He won't.
He needs to start over, and he wants to with her and for her.
Daryl meets her azure gaze. "Ain't important. Don't matter now." With his other hand, he softly strokes her cheek. "Let's start over."
She mirrors his touch, caressing his face before drawing him closer and kissing him full on the lips. He melts into it, lost in hope and desire and love. The only thing that can break the spell is the gnarling of walkers. There are about ten of them, staggering closer. Carol pulls out her knife whilst Daryl removes his crossbow, and together they take out the undead.
By the time they reach Alexandria, his stomach's twisted itself in knots. The gates are taller, stronger, and through them, he can see happy residents wandering, though he doesn't recognize any of them.
As the gates open, Daryl feels a stab of regret, a bittersweet emotion he can't quite place. Alexandria is thriving. Since he left the windmill has since been built, along with new houses and a large building that could be a school. Carl dreamt this, he muses. So did Rick.
A little girl hastens towards them. She looks about ten, but she carries an air of authority that makes her seem older than her years. Her long, brown locks and plaid shirt remind him of Lori, and she's wearing Rick's sheriff hat, the one he bestowed to Carl, the one he bestowed to Judith.
She's Judith.
"Aunt Carol! What are you doing here?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at the disheveled man beside her. He's vaguely familiar, yet she can't quite place him, as if she knew him once before but has since forgotten.
Her aunt smiles so wide her eyes light up. Judith's never seen her this happy before.
"I brought Daryl home," her aunt explains, beaming at the man. "Do you remember him?"
The name strikes a chord. The girl concentrates, trying to focus when the not-so-stranger, who now has tears filling his eyes, comes closer. He smells like dirt and sweat and blood, a scent she'd forgotten but now fills her head with memories.
"Uncle Daryl?" she whispers as tears prick her own eyes. Mindlessly, she wraps her arms around him, remembering him carrying her to the Hilltop, remembering him telling her stories when she couldn't sleep that night, remembering him wiping the tears that wouldn't stop because she'd just lost her brother.
Carol's crying, too, for she's overwhelmed by love. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Michonne holding Rick Jr's hand. Michonne's watching them, as still as a statue, before her face collapses, and she runs towards them.
Daryl lets go of Asskicker only to embrace his friend. "I'm sorry," he cries as he holds her. "I left ya, I shouldn't've, I didn't know-" He stops when he catches sight of the boy.
"Rick," Michonne strokes her son's curls, "this man's your Daddy's brother," she sniffs as if holding back a sob. "His name's Daryl."
He's unsure of how much love his heart can take. He absorbs the image of the boy and can only see his father. He imagines Rick Sr standing behind him.
"Ya got nothing to be sorry for, brother." He smiles. "I'm just glad ya came home."
Daryl blinks away the mirage as he bends down to shake the boy's hand.
"Nice to meet ya, Rick." He swallows. "Yer Daddy was the best man I knew."
"Will you tell me about him?" he asks gleefully, his eyes wide with wonder. "Mommy always tells the same stories."
"'Course." He smiles as he stands. "Gonna teach ya how to hunt, too."
Carol spends the night in Alexandria, though her return home to the Kingdom is filling her with dread. She longs to see Henry. She's missed him so, but she can't bear the thought of Ezekiel's reaction to her news. I found Daryl. I want to be with him. I'm sorry.
Daryl enters the bedroom, soaked from the shower and wearing nothing but a towel. Her heart pounds at the sight of him. When he lies beside her, she turns toward him. Something's been racing through her mind, and it's desperate to be voiced.
"I love you," she whispers.
No one's ever said that to him before. Not his Mom, especially not his Dad, not even Merle. He's never had a girl, never wanted one until he met Carol.
He presses his lips against hers because he can't respond with words. Not right away, that is. He needs to feel her. He needs to release the emotions he's not felt in five years, needs to release the emotions he's never felt before.
Once he's ready to break away from her lips, he brushes a few curls away from her face and breathes: "I love ya too."
THE END.