A/N: Hi guys. So this story has been stuck in my head for months now, and believe me when I say that I have went through a zillion TV shows and movies before deciding on the right characters to use. I was inspired by the Kenzie & Gennaro series by Dennis Lehane. So I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: Private Investigators Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene have taken on their toughest case yet. To help find a missing 4 year old girl. But when things start to get personal for the two, they may soon find that not everything is as it seems, and what Daryl thought was buried long ago is about to show it's ugly head. Can Daryl shut the doors to his past long enough to keep his family safe? AU, OOC

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Alas I own nothing :(

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When I was a kid I remember asking my priest why God let the bad things happen to good people. Rape...Abuse...Murder... I could never understand why a god who claimed to love us so much could allow such horrible things to happen, but the words that Father Odell spoke to me will forever stay in my mind. He told me that the real question isn't why does God cause suffering, but instead why has God not put an end to it yet. And the answer he gave me was simple...He's waiting. He's waiting as long as he can to give as many people the opportunity to make their peace with him. He told me that one day God will put an end to the suffering. The pain. The violence and hardship; it's just that that day hasn't come yet. Back then I didn't completely understand what Father Odell was talking about. All I knew was that I wasn't going to suffer forever. I just had to wait for God.

It's been nineteen years since I asked that question. I'm still waiting.

Chapter One

Walking through the cemetery in my newly pressed suit, I couldn't help but pull at the black tie that usually lived in the back of my closet. Damn things, in my opinion were made for two types of people. CEO's who made more money in a day than I did in a year and manic depressives who couldn't find a bridge high enough. But again, that was only my opinion. They just weren't made for people who practically lived in jeans and ten year old t-shirts.

Keeping my head down, I tried to get out of there as fast as I could. I didn't belong there. Even I knew that, but still part of me couldn't walk away from this one. I knew it was my fault. I knew that if I had just done what Beth had said then Frank Fitzgerald...father, brother, husband and friend would still be here. But thanks to me, for the rest of eternity he would be rotting in the dirt. Nothing more than worm food. I couldn't help but turn my face away as the family passed, Mrs. Fitzgerald sniffling into a tissue as her son helped her into the waiting black limo, her teenage daughter inconsolable. I could feel my stomach twist inside me. My heart lurching as if it were about to brake out of my chest at any moment.

Beth always told me I was a bit of a masochist.

I slipped on my shades, my hands feeling about for a much needed cigarette as I tried to go unnoticed by Frank's family. Good thing, I parked in an isolated spot. Bad thing, I was out of smokes. Climbing into my trusty Volvo 700 I finally let go of the breath I didn't realise I was holding on to, memories of that night flooding my mind, crawling as deep into my inner most thoughts as they could get. The look of fear in his eyes as I watched the life drain out of them. The smell of his blood as I tried desperately to stop it flowing from his body. I don't think I would ever forget that night.

Snapping out of my daze I quickly put the car in gear and got the hell out of there. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my day moping around, yet that was easier said than done. A quick pit stop to Otis' was definitely in order.

I had lived in Dorchester my whole life, a hell hole if I was totally honest, but a place that I called home nevertheless. For the past 30 years I had walked these streets daily, and I couldn't really say that they had changed much. Same people...well, those who were still breathing. Buildings still in the same run-down state that they had been in when I was a teenager; so much so that some of my old 'artwork' still graced most of their walls. But it was home, and I wouldn't change it for anything.

I pulled to a stop outside of Otis', tucking my shades into my pocket as I made my way into the dingy off-license. A few cold beers and a box of smokes. That's what I was needing.

"Hey, Otis." I grunted, placing my ice cold six pack on the counter "And a box of Marlboro, actually make that two..."

"Thought you were quittin'..." He replied with a chuckle as I placed both hands on the counter, my head bowed as I waited for him to toss me the cigarettes.

"And I thought you were goin' to stop sellin' to 15 year old kids." I smirked, looking up to see him roll his eyes.

"What are you, a cop?" He exclaimed, ringing up my order "Business is business, and if I remember correctly, you and that brother of yours were in here doin' the exact same thing when you were their age. Hell, the two of you were probably my best customers."

"I'm just bustin' your balls." I laughed, handing him a twenty.

"How's Merle doin' anyway?" Otis asked as I grabbed my bag, a feeling of dread coming over me "Not seen him around for a while now."

"Ah, you know Merle..." I began, laughing it off slightly "He's probably sittin' in a cell somewhere waitin' for me to bail him out."

With a shake of the head and a knowing laugh, Otis rolled his eyes once more. Truth was, I didn't really know where Merle was, or what shit he had managed to get himself into this time. Ever since we were kids he had taken it upon himself to adopt the title of 'Fuck up', getting himself into more shitty situations than half of the Dorchester community put together.

"Well..." Otis began, snapping me out of my thoughts "All I can say is at least one of you turned out okay."

Laughing, I about turned, opening the Marlboro's greedily. If only he knew.

"Oh, Otis..." I called back, lighting a cigarette as I headed for the door "I've just never been caught."

…………

It wasn't long before I arrived back at the office, the thought of climbing four flights of stairs to the old belfry making me want nothing more than to stay in the car and enjoy my beer. But I knew the longer I was away, the more explaining I would have to do. With a sigh I lit another cigarette, climbed out the car and made my way across the road towards the old shell of a church.

It had been a relatively nice building at one time, a breath of fresh air in a greying neighbourhood that was becoming more and more depressed by the second. The old church had served it's purpose over the years by being an outreach to the community, offering child care for working families, food parcels for the hungry and digs for the homeless. I had even been part of the youth programme that they had run after school, and as much as I denied it back then, I fuckin' loved it. It's actually how I had met Beth all those years ago. But of course, like all good things, it came to an abrupt end in the late summer of 1980 during the Sunday Mass when three assholes barged in and blew the Priest away for a poxy $200 offering. That was the first time I had ever witnessed someone die. After that, the whole church was shut down and everything ripped out. No more child care. No more food parcels. No more digs. A whole neighbourhood turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

I always figured that's why Beth and I got the place so cheap; because of that little incident. In 1992 Dixon and Greene: Private Investigators was formed, the church being offered as office space to us for a very low price every month. Five years on and we're still here. At least the old building was now getting used for something.

The first time I climbed the stairs up to the belfry where our office was, I thought I was going to pass out. I was practically on my hands and fucking knees crawling up them. Now I can happily take two at a time without near damned killing myself, but today I thought I would just take it easy.

I soon found myself outside the office staring at the chipped gold lettering on the door, not really ready to go in a face my partner quite yet. But procrastination had never helped anyone in the past, well...me anyway. So with a deep breath I opened the door, Beth sitting at her desk looking over some old cases.

"Hey." She smiled up at me, her big blue eye immediately looking me up and down taking in my attire. Her smile quickly faded "Don't need two guesses to figure out where you've been all day..."

Great, two feet in the door and I already wanted to fucking run.

"Beth..." Came my warning as I sat my beer onto my own battered desk "I'm really not in the mood today."

"Daryl..." She persisted, getting up from her seat and coming round to face me "You look like hell and smell like stale beer and smoke..."

"Love you too, Honey." I replied, the sarcasm dripping from my voice as I ripped my tie off and threw it in the trash can. I don't care if the next funeral I attended was the Presidents, I was never wearing that thing again.

"Stop it." She sighed, her hands going to her hips as she looked up at me with furrowed brows. Her 'Mom Look' as I liked to call it "I thought you said you weren't goin' to go. If you had told me that you were I would have come along for support."

Sighing, I finally turned to face her, taking a seat on top of my desk as my fingers absently tried to work the buttons on my shirt. Avoiding Beth's concerned gaze was like avoiding raindrops in a storm.

"Ok, I'm sorry..." I mumbled, peeling my shirt off and sitting it next to me. My white wife beater quickly following it "I shouldn't of gone. Especially alone...I guess I just felt like I owed it to the guy."

Understanding, Beth gave a small nod before running her hand through her long blonde hair and letting out a sigh of her own. She was cute when she was mad.

Beth Greene was probably the most trusting person I had in my life. Like I said before, we met at the after school youth programme the church ran. Two years before the Priest was shot dead, I think. I was 11 at the time and she had just turned 9. I remember she had seemed so lost back then. Her Mom and brother hadn't long been killed in a car crash back in Georgia, and her Dad hadn't wasted any time in moving her and her older sister, Maggie out here in hopes of starting a new life together. Personally, I think he just couldn't handle being around so many memories.

She hadn't joined in on much for the first couple of weeks, usually opting to sit out on games and shit. She was the 'Freaky Hick' of the group apparently, but I liked her. There was something interesting about her. I was drawn to those big blue eyes. I hadn't seen no girl with eyes like that in my whole life. It didn't take me long to go and introduce myself. She's been in my life ever since.

"Hey, have I got a t-shirt round here?" I asked, getting up from the desk.

"Yeah, in your drawer." Beth smirked, rolling her eyes slightly as she made her way back over to her own desk, rummaging through some papers "Think you've got some jeans in there too."

"You are wonderful." I replied, heading round the desk to pull my much wanted change of clothes out.

"That you just realizing?" She giggled, turning back round to face me with a folder in her hand.

I didn't waste much time in changing, Beth flicking though the folder as I zipped my fly up. She was cute when she concentrated too. She must be the only 28 year old in Dorchester that could still pass as an underaged teen.

"What you got there?" I questioned with a nod of the head, finally cracking open a can of beer before lighting myself another cigarette.

"We had a potential client stop by when you were..." I gave her the 'don't go there' look "When you were...MIA." She finished with a smile, bringing it over to show me the details of the case, her hair tickling my arm as she leaned in to reread it.

Fuck, she smelled like sunshine.

"Emily Torrence..." I all but whispered, turning to look at the sadness in her eyes.

Emily Torrence, I knew, was going to be one of those hard cases. She had been in the news constantly for the past two days. Her mother, Charlene had arrived home from a game of bingo to find her friend passed out on the sofa and her daughter missing. The four year old had been missing going on three days now, the police having no new leads to who had taken her, or her whereabouts.

I couldn't help but steal another glance at Beth. She couldn't take her gaze off the picture of the little girl, sadness evident in her glassy eyes. She always took cases involving kids a lot harder. I guess it was just her mothering side showing through.

"You up for this one?" I asked her quietly, my hand coming to rest on the small of her back "We don't need to take this one if you don't want to."

"No, it's ok." She sighed, shooting me a small smile as she leaned into my touch "How is me not wanting to take it going to help find her? It's just...I'd hate to be in her mother's shoes."

"I know." I replied, pulling her in for a one armed hug as I kissed her forehead "Just don't think about it like that." I carried on, stepping back slightly to give her a reassuring smile "Instead, think about the look on that mom's face when you find her little girl safe and well."

Smiling, Beth rested her head against my shoulder. I knew she got embarrassed about things like this. I knew she thought that she was weak when she found certain cases difficult. But it didn't make her weak. It made her human.

"Thanks Daryl." She said softly, nodding her head slightly "Ok then...Let's do it."

...

A/N: Well guys, I really hope you enjoyed chapter one. If this story gets enough interest I'll definitely upload more. I've got it all planned out in my head already lol.

Please show the love and leave a wee review to tell me what you think, or what I could improve on. Thank you :)