Hope weighed heavily on Carol's heart as the Hilltop's gates opened. She prayed that her family would be there, safe and unharmed. She thought of Daryl. It had only been a few days since she'd wished him goodbye, yet she'd yearned for his presence the most. Their last hug had been fleeting, but the unspoken love she felt for him was beginning to suffocate her.

As the gates opened, her eyes searched desperately for him. As the group filed past she recognised them as her family. It seemed as though most of them were safe, but at this moment, no one else but Daryl mattered.

Wearing a dark shirt under his familiar leather vest - which finally adorned him again - he had his crossbow over one arm and Judith in the other, holding the little girl tightly. His dark hair seemed longer, hiding his blue eyes, but Carol didn't care. He was safe and relief erupted inside her as her face lit up. They were like magnets, drawn to each other as Carol ran to him mindlessly.

[*]

Daryl could see a flash of knight armor; it was someone running towards him. A woman...His woman. There was no mistaking her short, silver hair and the sparkling of her beautiful, blue eyes. A huge smile lit up her face, and Daryl couldn't help forming his own at the sight of her.

When the Alexandrians had fled the sewers in search of the Hilltop, Daryl couldn't deny the hope Carol would be waiting there. The three communities had agreed all survivors would meet there in preparation for their last stand against the Saviors. Daryl knew she could take care of herself - hell, she'd saved them all single-handedly at Terminus - yet he knew of what Negan was capable. Not a moment passed without Daryl worrying for her safety.

They were all so fragile now. Carl had been bitten and was closer to dying than to living. Daryl had felt a familiar stabbing in his gut when he'd seen the mark on the kid's stomach who had become like a nephew to him. Before Rick had arrived, Carl had confided in Daryl. He'd told him about the Walker bite and about Siddiq. He'd given him a letter which Daryl had immediately hidden away in his pocket.

After they'd been reunited, Rick and Michonne had split off with Carl. They'd be vulnerable, the two of them, alone together. Daryl had tried to voice his concerns, but Rick wouldn't listen. They'd already lost a few of their own. Francine and Eric had already fallen, and the war had yet to be won. Now Alexandria was gone, the Saviors had the upper hand.

[*]

Carol wrapped her arms around Daryl, nuzzling her face against his neck as his hands came to rest on her back. There were no words spoken between them because their eyes had told each other all they'd needed to say. Since she and Morgan had saved Ezekiel and the rest of the citizens of The Kingdom, Carol hadn't been able to stop worrying about her family. Somehow the Saviors had escaped, and Negan would spare no prisoners.

Suddenly, Judith began to cry and shattered the brief moment of comfort and relief. Carol eased back a bit, and allowed her eyes to wander over the milling refugees; Tara, Rosita, Tobin, Dwight and some others she hadn't recognized before. She comforted the sobbing child, searching for Judith's surrogate parents.

"Where … where are Rick and Michonne?" Carol asked quietly, "Where's Carl?"

Daryl was still holding her, his hands stroking the back of her neck. There would be no easy way of telling her. Carl had been weak with the fever, and he'd wanted Rick and Michonne to return him to Alexandria, so that he could die in the church instead of the sewers.

"Carl got bit," Daryl answered.

Tears filled Carol's eyes, threatening to spill over as she prayed it would be his hand, his arm, just something he could afford to lose. "Where?"

"His stomach", Rosita said curtly, as she walked past the group towards Barrington House to find Maggie.

Carol thought of Rick and remembered her own pain. Her tears began to fall as the loss of her little girl invaded her heart, bringing with it a pain so deep it felt as if it had happened just yesterday.

They'd all survived so much, yet it had seemed that each new challenge would cruelly snatch away her family. As Carol collapsed into Daryl's arms, pictures of the dead flooded her mind, including the one she'd tried so hard to push away. When the shell of Sophia had walked out of the barn, Carol had felt her heart stop. The world had seemed to crumble around her, and if Daryl hadn't have caught her, she would have run to the body that had once been her daughter's. She would've allowed the Walker to devour her, anything to stop the pain. No one could imagine how it had felt to lose a child.

"Hey, we ain't dead," Daryl said, his usually gruff voice striking the softer tone he reserved for her… only her. "We gotta keep goin'. It's what he'd want us to do".

Wiping her tears away, Carol knew he was right. She watched as the rest of their family walked inside, leaving just her and Daryl standing by the gates.

"Everyone else ... you're ok?" Carol asked as Daryl let go of her. He nodded, but he couldn't hide the sadness in his eyes… not from her.

"Daryl?" She asked, sensing how uncomfortable he felt with this question.

"The Saviors came," he replied as he averted his gaze. "Alexandria's gone."

"What do you mean, gone?" she asked, hysterically.

"They shot RPGs all over the place," said Daryl, "turned it to ashes".

Feeling her tears returning, Carol thought of Judith. She was only two years old, yet in the space of the day, she'd lost both her brother and her home. Though Carol had never felt at home in Alexandria - the place was as stuffy and fake as an old doll's house - it had been a safe haven for Judith. There were frequent babysitter's, a school for children and tall, secure walls. What chance did she have now ... now her life would once again be spent on the run?

[*]

As Daryl watched Carol cry, a part of him longed to hold her closer. He needed to melt her pain away. He wanted to tell her it wasn't the place which made the home, but the people. He knew empty platitudes would be of no help, and watching her suffer merely reminded him of his own pain, his own sadness. He couldn't understand it. She had never been happy in Alexandria. He'd realized it as soon as she'd left the house in a floral cardigan and crisp white shirt, prattling on about making dinners for "moms who needed a break". It was like she'd been auditioning for a role on Desperate Housewives.

He'd hoped she'd been joking, that soon she'd take off those stupid, simpering florals and go back to being Carol. She was the strong-willed woman who went behind Rick's back to teach children about knives because she'd known it was the right thing to do. She was the courageous warrior who saved her family, the family which had banished her, all by herself. She was the kind-hearted, affectionate woman who could always sense when Daryl was in pain and always knew how to make it better. Every nerve ending inside his body lit up when she was around. He'd loved that woman. He'd loved Carol.

But the woman in Alexandria, who'd spent all of her time baking goddamn cookies with a counterfeit smile on her face? It wasn't her, and he couldn't stand watching the woman he loved fade away from him. It hurt to watch her pretend to be someone else. Didn't she know that she was perfect?

He'd often tried to ask her about it, see if she was ok, if there was anything he could to do help. She'd insisted everything was fine, she liked Alexandria, she was happy there. He knew that she was holding something back. But she was denying him access, pulling herself further and further away from him.

Daryl had hated Alexandria, but he'd tried, for her. He'd tried to fit in, but he just wasn't made for a life of suburban bliss. Alexandria's white picket fences and large, shiny houses only served as a reminder of a life he'd never had. He'd never had a home. He'd never joined a neighbor to play soccer on the lawn. He'd never had a family that loved him.

The more time he spent in Alexandria, the more lost he began to feel. He drifted apart from Rick, the man he'd considered his brother. Rick had seemed content, enjoying the fantasy world around him. Didn't he know that he was allowing himself to become weak?

So Daryl had befriended Aaron, the gay Alexandrian who also felt like an outsider. The two frequently journeyed on recruitment runs, and sometimes they'd be gone for weeks at a time. It had felt good to be out on the road, not constrained by fake smiles and picket fences. Never knowing if you were safe, living on the run, sleeping rough, that had been his home. On the runs, Daryl would always miss Carol, but he couldn't be a part of the fairy tale she'd wanted to live in.

One day, he'd come back from a run and heard that Carol had shacked up with Tobin. He couldn't deny the envious pangs within his heart, or the sudden urge to punch the foreman in the face. The man had clearly plucked up the courage to do something that Daryl had tried and failed many times before. He'd kissed her.

Though it had pained him to see his love in another's arms, this counterfeit, phony version of Carol was perhaps perfect for Tobin. Together they could hold hands on the porch swing, organizing luncheons for the older people. Daryl knew that he couldn't be that man, and if that's who she'd wanted, he'd have to swallow his envy.

But then he and Rick had met Jesus, and they'd been encouraged to attack the Saviors. Carol had insisted on coming with them, leaving Daryl with a glimmer of hope. That was more like the woman he knew. The woman he'd missed. The woman he loved.

Dressed in her usual, scruffy clothes, with a gun in a hand, she was back. He'd wanted to talk to her, then, to fight by her side. She'd chosen to stay behind, to keep an eye on pregnant Maggie. That was Carol all over. She could be a fearsome warrior, but all she'd ever wanted to do was take care of people.

He didn't know what had happened to Carol and Maggie when they Saviors had held them captive, but they were the only two to make it out of the Outpost alive. As soon as they'd been reunited, Daryl could see that something had changed in Carol's eyes, something she'd long kept buried but was no longer able to conceal it.

Daryl couldn't help himself. He had immediately run to her, holding her in his arms, desperate to feel her body close to his once again. He'd asked her if she was ok, and when she'd shaken her head he'd known that she'd returned. She was no longer able to wear her mask.

She had never told him what had happened at the Outpost, what had caused her to become so upset, but he'd assumed she'd had to kill them all. That was one of the things he'd loved most about Carol: how despite her generous, loving heart, she could be a ruthlessly pragmatic warrior when the time came to protect her family.

Daryl would always regret his fecklessness on Carol's last night in Alexandria. He'd been preoccupied with Denise's death, and she'd silently helped as he dug her grave. Daryl had needed to quiet his mind and had found solace in a "fun-sized" bottle of whiskey. It was a cheap, trashy brand that stung like a bee and tasted of rancid petrol. But the drink had numbed the guilt he'd felt as he'd watched Denise take an arrow. His arrow. From the man he should've killed. From the man that'd been aiming at him.

Carol had stopped digging and was pensive as she watched Daryl drink. Her sorrowful eyes had connected with his, telling him all she had wanted to say. I know you're hurting. It wasn't your fault. But Daryl had chosen to ignore her, continuing to drink and dig, drink and dig.

He should've known that she'd wanted to leave. That melancholy look in her eyes, he'd seen it once before, back in Georgia. That was the night he'd found her by the car, ready to leave them all. If he hadn't found her in time, she would have been gone, lost to him forever.

Why didn't he stop her that night? He'd been drunk, he'd been guilty and he'd been angry. But he'd known that she was hurting. He'd known that something wasn't right. He'd chosen to ignore it. The next day, hungover and resentful, he'd gone after Dwight. He should've checked Carol was ok. He would've realized she'd run away, and he would've gone after her. Tracked her. He could've found her, made sure she was alright.

He'd made the wrong choice. He was always making the wrong choice. He'd chosen Dwight over Carol. A stupid, reckless, hopeless choice. Carol had left him, and Daryl had been captured. If only he'd stayed, if only he'd tried to find Carol. Glenn and Abraham would still be alive. The war would've been won a long time ago. And Carol, his Carol, would be happy.

Daryl swore that he would no longer make any stupid decisions. He held Carol closer, thinking once again of Denise. She hadn't known that death was close yet her last words were the most powerful ones he'd ever heard. Denise had regretted not telling Tara that she loved her. She'd told him how stupid it was to be afraid, and had accused Daryl of not trying, urging him to face his fears.

Perhaps he should face them now. He was stupid to not admit his love for Carol before, and he would tell her again, when the time was right. He wasn't trying when he'd allowed her to suffer in silence. He needed to face his fears and protect Carol so that she wouldn't feel the need to run away. He'd needed her, as he knew deep down that she'd needed him.

"Hey," he said softly, as he gently lifted her chin so that their eyes were level with each other, "ya ok?"

[*]

"Gotta be," came her reply, the only words she could allow herself to say. She forced herself to smile at Daryl. She needed to be strong. He was relying on her. Judith was relying on her. Ezekiel was relying on her. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? The Saviors were coming, and they needed to be ready.