Summary: Difficult as it might have been to drive the vehicle steadily with only one hand on the wheel, Daryl did his best to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead them, snuggling her against his tensed body with his other hand. Time was menacingly ticking inside his head

Hey, everyone!

So, I practically glued myself on the computer to get this written as soon as possible… I haven't even made a check for errors, so be prepared for anything! I'll correct everything I can find tomorrow, I just couldn't leave you waiting with this cliffhanger!

I really hope you like the second part as much as I do :)

To those of you I didn't get time to PM:

I feel terrible I left a cliffhanger like that the last time; I had no intention to do so when I started it. Problem is I got carried away writing and then the drabble was huge and I didn't want to leave any part out… You get the picture!

Thank you all for your support and the great reviews!

The Walking Dead belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC. No copyright infringement intended.

Enjoy!

From the top of the watch tower, Glenn knew something was wrong the moment the truck came into view, accelerating like devil himself was in its tail and following a frantic zig zag trajectory, which left Glenn with his mouth fallen agape.

"Maggie! Maggie! Get Rick! Get your weapons!" he waved towards the prison, afraid that what Carol and Daryl were fleeing from was the Governor.

Daryl's first impulse was to drive through the gate in high speeds to get her inside as soon as possible. What hindered the literal implementation of this thought was a last chunk of rationality screaming inside his head that he couldn't let more than twenty people unprotected, without a fence surrounding them. As Sasha rushed to unlock the gate, he readjusted Carol in his arms and risked another glance at her. His heart stopped at her stillness and the coldness of her skin. He slammed on the gas again the moment the chain was gone. The tires made a squeaky, high pitch sound, churning up a cloud of dust before the vehicle stormed forward, violently swinging the gate open, the momentum of it knocking Sasha down. Fuckin' people better stay out of his way or next time he'd run them over.

He reached the prison the moment most of the members of the old group were on their way out, weapons in hands, ready to defend the place from whatever threat was stalking. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of what emerged behind the windshield of the car. Carol, close-eyed and probably unconscious was slouched over Daryl who held her against his strong torso. Daryl hopped out of the driver's seat before the vehicle came at a standstill, revealing two blood-stained figures, cradling her protectively in his arms.

"Oh, God…" that was all that escaped Rick's lips.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Maggie broke the silence, disappearing back in the prison.

He tried to run towards them, but his knees trembled precariously and he staggered for a few steps, seemingly ready to collapse under her weight. Gritting his teeth and groaning a guttural, hoarse sound, he steadied himself and headed forward, shooting murderous glares to Rick and Tyreese when they instinctively moved closer with opened arms to relieve him from the burden of the limp body in his arms. He moved quickly after that, stopped only when he tenderly placed her in the bunk of her cell and looked her paleness in despair. Was she still breathing? He couldn't say. He didn't even dare to check out. He was short of breath himself, lack of oxygen clouding his senses. In a matter of seconds, Hershel's crutches echoed on the prison floor, people gathered outside the cell opened a way for him to pass.

"What happened?" the vet asked Daryl, his eyes scanning Carol's still figure. Maggie and Beth stepped in behind him, carrying Hershel's medical kit, towels and a pair of scissors, spreading their equipment around effectively so that everything could be in reach. Daryl got out of their way, stepping back and leaning hard against the cold wall. He just didn't have enough air inside him. Hershel watched him warily.

"Fell on a glass… About an hour and a half ago… I tried to control the bleeding…" he was panting, short, ragged breaths escaping his lips. "Lost so much blood… So much…" he kept gasping, sure he would never be able to get enough oxygen in his lungs again. Maggie was leaning over her now, checking her pulse, while Beth was cutting the blood-soaked strips of what used to be her favorite scarf he had tightly tied around the wound.

"It's ok, son, take your time," Hershel said calmly, returning his attention to the lying figure in the cot.

"Her pulse is weak," Maggie stated.

"I don't think she's bleeding much anymore," Beth tried to discern the slit of the wound through old and fresh blood.

Daryl tried to inhale deeply to clear his mind; it didn't work. The walls of the confined space narrowed, coming closer to crash him and the floor started to spin. Her lifeless frame looked deformed and Hershel's hushed advices came distorted in his ears. He moaned and closed his eyes. "She was conscious most of the time. Passed out less than ten minutes ag…" his voice was consumed by a sob he didn't let out.

"Need any help?" Rick's concerned figure surfaced in the cell's entrance, his gaze drifting between Carol's body and Daryl's pitiful form.

"No, we got her," Hershel replied calmly.

"Rick…" Daryl's raspy voice rang unfamiliar in his own ears. He had to tell them everything, but not in here… he was suffocating in here. He dragged his legs towards his friend, whispering a barely audible "Fix her" to Hershel without casting a glance at Carol.

Rick instantly reached out and grabbed Daryl's shoulder to support his fragile balance, leading him out in the sunlight. So much had happened that day and it was barely past noon yet. Daryl felt grateful for the firm grip that guided him. Once outside, he collapsed on the bench, rubbing his eyes with his clean hand, drew a sharp breath and instantly felt less hysterical. Somebody he didn't even notice handed him a bottle of water he emptied in seconds. Michonne and Tyreese had joined Rick, the three of them waiting for him to talk.

"We were attacked. Martinez and Shumpert. No sight of the Governor. At least we didn't catch a glimpse of him." he blurted hastily.

Michonne's brows came closer. "They were alone?"

"Don't know for sure, but that's my guess. I was in the back of the store, Carol was alone in the front," he paused, holding his breath. Carol was alone in the front. Carol was alone in the front. He had left her alone in the front. If he hadn't left her alone; if he had been closer… His head whirled to the prison; Was she still alive? She might have been dead already and he wouldn't have a clue.

"She in good hands now." Rick interrupted his thoughts, encouraging him to continue.

Daryl nodded. "I heard her yell and then she and Martinez started shooting at each other. By the time I got close enough to fire, Shumpert was covering their retreat."

"Did you follow them?"

"NO!" he snarled and then he remembered they didn't know. "That was when she got hurt," his eyes drifted to his bloody clothes and his left arm that was covered entirely with her blood. "My guess is they were alone," he went on; "If they had more men with them they would stick around enough to take us out. It'd be a piece of cake."

"Did they recognize you?" Tyreese spoke up for the first time.

"Definitely. They both saw me."

Michonne took a step closer, "Are you sure you're not hurt too?"

"Yeah…" he swallowed hard. He was fuckin' intact.

"Is there anything you need?" Tyreese asked with concern.

He shook his head. He needed Carol to live and smile to him again and ruthlessly tease him until he spontaneously combust from embarrassment, but they couldn't give him that, could they? As he made it perfectly clear that he was done talking, Michonne and Tyreese slowly walked away.

"And no hard feelings for trying to run over my sister!" Tyreese yelled with a smile.

Rick took a seat next to him, compassion and sincere concern radiating from his mere presence, and they both remained silent for a moment. Daryl was the first to break it.

"Where's Carl?"

"In the back. Practicing with knives. Mad at me, as always lately." Rick sighed, not knowing what to do with his son.

Daryl scoffed, "That's a tough boy there, Rick, but I'm telling you, he could use a little spanking every now the then." Yep, tough was one thing, but Carl was getting out of control.

"I'm starting to believe so myself," Rick chuckled a humorless laugh. He eyed the hunched shoulders of the man next to him, who kept his gaze fixed on his hands the whole time. "She's gonna be fine," he offered, trying to sound confident.

"I know," Daryl murmured quickly.

After an hour of comfortable silence flooding the space between them, Rick jumped on his feet at the sight of Hershel making his way to them. Daryl's eyes darted to the vet's unfathomable expression; he couldn't bring himself to get up. She was dead, wasn't she? He was too late.

"I don't know," Hershel shrugged. "There isn't any internal damage, we cleaned the wound, stitched it and bumped her up with antibiotics. I also used one of the IV bags we found in the infirmary," he clarified. "But she's lost a lot of blood… All I can say now is, wait for her to wake up."

Daryl hated the sound of this last sentence, the biting insinuation that she might not wake up at all.

"When do you expect her to?" Rick echoed his own thoughts.

Hershel shook his head, "I can't say. Maybe in a couple of hours, in a couple of days, or…" his voice wavered. Or not at all.

Daryl's stomach kicked; he felt sick. Rick squeezed his shoulder. Or not at all.

The rest of the day was agonizingly slow. He had collapsed under a shower briefly after Hershel's update and stayed there for so long he started shivering and had trouble bringing himself up. Everyone respected his space and allowed him some loneliness, knowing what an introverted and closed up person he was. Or again, maybe they were just afraid of his clenched fists and gritted teeth. The one person that could safely approach him when he looked like that was lying unconscious in a buck. Little comfort did he find cooing to Lil' Ass Kicker, who usually was a solace of serenity to him.

He had stubbornly stayed as far away from her cell as possible, never approaching close enough to squint at her. The image of her pale face and bloody clothes haunted him. He was trying to be mad at her for not trying hard enough. He had decided that he'd be in a survival mode, not waiting long enough to see whether she decided to make them the honor to wake up or not, he'd just adapt living in a world without her, starting from now, and the easiest way to do so was to ignore the still figure furiously resembling Carol's graceful frame. After he barely touched the tasteless dinner Beth served him, he purposely headed to his cell, determined to sleep and not waste a moment thinking of her. Fuck Carol. He had done more talking than he normally did in a month inside the truck, let her tease him all she wanted, even joked about screwing around with her and she had just given up. Fuck Carol. She should have fought harder. He hadn't stopped fighting for her, not for a second. His biggest unacknowledged fear, nesting deep in his gut, was that she had just grabbed the chance to reunite with Sophia, not spending as much as a thought to him. But not having a choice other than to pass by her own cell in his way to his, he couldn't help casting a peek inside. Just a peek and he already knew sleep wouldn't be visiting him tonight.

Around midnight, he finally came to terms with the fact that his eyelids would stay open forever only to torture him and keep sleep away. He sighed in resignation and stopped pretending this attitude was something he could keep dragging around. All he wanted was to see her.

Beth was changing the IV when he emerged in the entrance of her cell.

"We're doing everything we can," she smiled wearily at him.

He nodded. "Go get some sleep, I'll stay."

"Wake me up if anything happens. Maggie will come at six." Beth found his look too intimidating to resist.

In a second they were alone inside the cell.

He collapsed in the chair next to her bunk, his eyes burning holes in her face. There she was, all cleaned up and pale in a sleevelss red top, lost in a serene bliss, her arms laying still outside the covers. The IV bag hanging next to her cot, drops falling in a frequent rate, the needle inserted in the inner side of the elbow. He couldn't even blink from fear she'd be ripped away from him in that split second.

"You can't take your time there. You have to wake up. Beth's cooking will have us all starved to death," he murmured. There. Did he just say the only reason she couldn't die was that they didn't have a surrogate cook? Shit. Mood killer should have been his middle name.

"Just wake up and everything's gonna be fine. I'm not angry at you," he mumbled.

This wasn't happening again. How many times would this woman have him counting her shallow fuckin' breaths? Afraid they would have to end it before she turned into one of those creatures? He had always been determined he'd be the one to put her down, to dig a bullet in her head. Part of him honestly believed that this was the stupidest idea he had ever come across in the really rich collection of piled up fool ideas that constituted his life. He would never get over something like that and he knew it. But the other part of him was stubbornly refusing to let anyone else achieve this kind of intimacy with her and with that, he simply meant that he'd get to be the last one to see her face, no matter what. They were heads and tail she and he, two different sides of the same coin, irrevocably engraved on the metal through abuse, loss and sorrow, desperately trying to curve their seperate ways through it and meet in the middle. And that meant he alone got to put her down. No. She would be fine. He couldn't lose her now, they were almost there; in the middle. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Sophia was looking at her, smiling happily in her blue shirt with the rainbow print that matched her sweet eyes. Carol felt her heart racing. She had missed her sweet angel so much, had cried herself to sleep for so many nights, had learned how to fight and survive only to honor her memory and the fact that she'd want her to stay alive and keep putting one foot in front of the other. And now she was standing right there, looking exactly like the real, beautiful Sophia and not the heinous monstrosity that stumbled outside the barn. She rushed forward to hug her, but froze in her place when Sophia shook her head. She lifted her thin arm slowly and pointed in the opposite direction, where Daryl stood, tilting her head to the side and giving her mother a huge grin. Carol started sobbing violently. She didn't want to leave her, not again. They could be together again for eternity and she'd made such a better mother than she used to. She knew how to protect her now; Daryl had showed her how. Daryl… Why couldn't she have them both? How the hell was that asking too much? She tried to take a step towards her daughter once more, but Sophia shook her head again, chuckling cheerfully and wavering in Daryl's direction. She was retreating back now, widening the distance between them, under Carol's teary gaze and soft whimpers until she disappeared. Carol wiped her eyes and turned to face Daryl who stared at her with burning eyes, one arm stretched out invitingly. She smiled softly and took a step towards him.

They were standing across each other. Blood was everywhere; an ocean of blood pouring out from Carol's standing figure, her stomach wound bleeding like a fountain. He wasn't exactly asleep, all this being more of an hallucination than an actual nightmare, his level of awareness too alert and conscious; the noise of kettles clinking in the makeshift kitchen, someone was still up; the sound of the trees rustling outside; yes, he wasn't sleeping, but he was too fuckin' tired to open his eyes and was torturing himself mercilessly, trapped in this bleak illusion.

"Whatever it is, it can't be worse than the dead walking on earth." A whisper penetrated his grievious haze and delicate fingers squeezed his limp hand caressing it reassuringly.

Damn Beth was touching him again, still didn't know any better than to sneak up on him. "You'd be surprised," he snorted, eyes hermetically closed.

And then it hit him. The sweet voice and the soft touch… His head snapped and he came face to face with a weak, yet beaming grin. A set of beautiful, droopy, azure eyes, enveloped by dark circles was lingering on his, giving him a longing look he couldn't decipher.

Carol.

Carol.

Carol.

He abruptly grasped the fingers stroking the back of his palm into a firm grip, gasping. Was she real? Was this real?

"Super-Daryl worked his miracle again. You got us back safely," she regarded him proudly.

"You ok?" he didn't even identify the husky sound as his own voice.

"Peachy," she replied sarcastically. "Except from the pain in my stomach. And the blood loss. And the dizziness. And the stiffed body. And that I can't even reach the water bottle. And the exhaustion. But I'm not complaining. I'm still alive, right?" she smiled whole-heartedly.

He said nothing, shaky, heavy breaths escaping him, wide eyes fixed on her; he just nodded swallowing hard a huge lump. She was still alive, wasn't she? He disentangled her fingers from his clasp, gently laying her hand by her side and reached for the bottle long enough to miss the disappointment that darkened her gaze. Propping her head up and supporting her with one hand, he lowered the uncapped bottle between her lips and watched her sipping the liquid greedily, fingers curled pathetically weak around his wrist, eyes never leaving his.

"Thank you," she moaned out of breath when she was done and he eased her head back to the pillow.

A few more silent moments passed between them. "Help me up a bit?" she asked, not knowing how to deal with the thin line of his lips.

He nodded again and silently added another pillow under her back, bringing her up into a more sitting position, avoiding her gaze. What was wrong with him? He felt he couldn't articulate a single word without start weeping his eyes out right in front of her. Relief was rushing into his veins, washing away the twisted agony that battered him inside out since the moment he saw her laying on the floor. His hand felt empty and cold without hers inside, so he fisted them both and pressed them against his mouth, elbows of his knees, to shove away the sense of loss and hide his nervously twitching lips.

Carol watched him warily. It was one of the rare times words were evading her. She felt so spent due to blood loss and fighting the battle of her life to trick death once more the day before, she could barely find the proper way to express herself. "I never thought I'd die, not for a second," she whispered hoarsely, unshed tears glistening behind the fan of her eyelashes. "I had faith in you even when I didn't have in myself." Never had she spoken truer words.

Gathering all her strength, she reached out a delicate, pierced arm to touch him once more, the IV tube bouncing back and forth. "Please, say something," she pleaded.

He just stared at it for a moment, holding his crouched position, keeping his distance. A sense of rejection overwhelmed her under his hard gaze and stray tears streamed down her face, but his hand yanked immediately and callous fingers wrapped around her fragile wrist, tracing her pulse again. He buried his face in his free hand, sealed his eyes closed, barely able to control the underlying sobs in his chest as the strong and steady beating of her heart under his fingertips progressively sank into him. Strong and steady.

"I'm alive." Her whisper struggled to pass through the buzz of his ears.

She was alive. Her heart was beating and she was talking to him and looking at him and everything. She was alive. Pulse strong and steady.

She tried to pull him to her bunk; surprisingly, he complied. For a brief moment they both stared at her tiny hand resting on his knee, his fingertips never parting from the inside of her wrist. "I'm alive," she reiterated soothingly.

"I can never be sure with y…" his voice choked into a sob he swallowed loudly, eyes drifting between the needle and the ulnar artery. "Always have to jump between you and your fuckin' death wish," he continued more steadily, trying to joke. Strong and steady.

Carol smiled. He had beaten her to that. Despite her exhaustion she felt so attracted to him… She loved and wanted that scared man in front of her beyond any logic, his intense gaze mesmerized her, the fact that he needed to feel her heart beat moved her deeply. If only she could lift herself up…

She cupped the back of his neck with her free hand and dragged him closer to her until their faces were only inches away; once more, he didn't resist. "I couldn't leave you", she whispered, dazzled by his hot breath near her mouth. "I just couldn't leave you," her voice came out pleading as she made the ultimate effort to lift her head a few inches to desperately bring their lips together. Her kiss was struggled and brief, simply brushing her lips against his statue frame, interrupted by a sharp pain in her stomach that knocked her back, wincing.

Daryl was startled, inhaled sharply and held the air, the fingers around her wrist tightened instinctively at her painful grimace. Strong and steady. "I'm fine," she reassured him. "Just…"

She was taken aback by his mouth crashing on hers with a passion that shocked them both, hungry and awkward closed lips claiming domination. The room started spinning as her head was pressed against the pillows and she grabbed his muscled arm to shove the vertigo away, desperately tugging closer to him. He put some distance again between them, finally let go of her wrist, convinced that she was very much real and alive and melting beneath him and slid his arm under her nape to prop her head up, cupping her cheek with his other hand and staring at her. Daryl blushed feverishly, his face growing tomato red with every passing second. "Don't stop," she whispered, breathing heavily, mouth hanging open.

He closed the gap between them slower this time, parting his lips in the process, not sure what to do next, but trusting her to guide him… trusting them. Their third kiss was deeper as their tongues swirled together, clumsily exploring each other's mouths, savoring the taste and the sensation of their collided bodies, until he got too carried away and, tracing a hand across her torso, he brushed her bandaged fresh wound, causing her to groan with pain.

He instantly jerked back, scolding himself, searching her face and waiting for her to dismiss him. "Shit," he gasped for air. "Are you ok?"

Carol shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears, her lips already missing his. Surely he'd bolt now, regretting everything that had happened the last couple of minutes, just because of a little pain that didn't even begin to resemble the suffocating pain that overwhelmed her when he stopped kissing her.

"No?" his chest tightened.

"No." she mumbled pathetically, fighting back her tears.

"I'm getting Hershel," he grunted, hating himself for hurting her.

"No, no, no…" her hand yanked to stop him. Damn, he couldn't get it, could he? "It's not that… It's just…" she floundered. "The moment you take your lips away, the pain becomes excruciating," she finally whispered shyly, eyes downcast. It sounded like one of her jokes, but she was dead serious. Once she had tasted his mouth, she didn't think she could live without it anymore.

Daryl watched her for a long moment, dumbfounded. Confident he had almost killed her with his carelessness, it took him a while to process her words. Cupping her cheek again, he tilted her head to face him and his lips cracked into his infamous crooked smile. "I'm sorry," he said. "Don't know how to do this." He could feel his blush spreading in his ears.

"You are perfect," she confessed honestly, shrugging. He was. He had no idea how perfect he was.

A deep yawn escaped her and she smirked sheepishly. He leaned over her again, this time kissing her tenderly on the forehead.

"Enough of this shit." he said matter-of-factly, removing the needle from her arm and tossing the IV bag on the floor. "Let's move you over a bit." Daryl pushed her gently towards the wall and slipped under the covers next to her. Something was seriously wrong with this woman; it made no sense to him that she was looking at him with mere adoration sparkling in her blue eyes.

Carol snuggled into his chest immediately, feeling waves of thrill as a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders. If she was in terrible pain, or was being ridiculously careless with her wound, she didn't give a damn; she wasn't wasting this opportunity. Now that she was happy, her eyelids grew heavy again. Realizing it wouldn't be long till she dozed off, she focused on his heart beating under her ear. Strong and steady.

"Please be here in the morning," she whispered with another yawn.

"Where else would I be?" he asked sincerely. It was the truth and he was happy she couldn't see his face, because he wouldn't have been able to blurt it out. It was too late for him, she kept his heart in her palm and there was no going back now.

"Daryl? Can I ask you something?" a playful tone crept in her sleepy voice.

"Yeah..." he hesitated, detecting it.

"Am I going for a run ever again?" she sighed.

"Haven't you pushed your luck enough for one night?" he returned the question, chuckling.

Carol giggled in his chest.

"I really liked it. Well, except from the almost dying thing."

He didn't even want to think about it.

"Get some rest," he tried to sound angry, failing miserably. "We'll talk about it in a month. I'm not going anywhere."

One single happy tear escaped her eyes and the next moment she was sound asleep. He wasn't going anywhere.

This is how Maggie found them three hours later; clinging to each other in their peaceful sleep.

The End

Ugh… My poor heart!

I don't know how you feel about the scenes between Daryl and the other members of the group. They are the reason this chapter got so long, but I wanted to have him interacting with people while the threat of losing Carol was hanging over his head.

I really hope I made Daryl and Carol justice, especially in the kissing part! How did you like it?

Any idea for future drabbles?

Thank you for reading :) Your reviews would be extremely appreciated!

Peta2: Thank you for the idea for a Ben Hur long chapter… I laughed so hard I cried :)

Hylian Medli, collective2220: Couldn't bring myself to completely integrate the scene you had in mind, although I had it in my mind as well. I made him tempted, though ;)

LaurenEmilyxx: Exactly, she kept fighting all along ;)

spygrrl99: Did you like him as a nurse?

cavestirrings: I'm honored your first review ever was for my story :) Hope it's not the last!

libfulknot, HGRHfan35: Hope you're crying with relief now :)

"Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!"
― Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

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