(If you've read this before and notice a slight difference if you happen to choose to re-read, I just went through and did some grammatical editing. It was my first fanfic and I had so many errors it was driving me crazy thinking about all of them. There's still probably a lot, but I'm working hard to go back and clean it up as best I can. No content or plot of the overall story has been changed, though. Just in case anyone found themselves wondering.)

Rick Grimes had been sitting on the side of the road for at least an hour, if not longer. Not a single car had driven so far. Even better, he had absolutely no service on his cell phone. Although, it wasn't all that surprising being that he was out in a middle of nowhere town, a little more than thirty minutes south of his suburban home.

He had come out this way to check out an SUV that he had found on Craigslist. The listing seemed promising of a good deal, and he thought it would be a nice surprise for his wife. He hadn't envisioned having car trouble of his own in the way there. He had never had any real trouble with the truck before.

It could be worse, he thought to himself. It could be summer. No one wanted to be stranded outside in the middle of the day in a Georgia summer. Fortunately for Rick, today was a crisp, fall afternoon. The leaves had just started to change colors and a mixture red, yellow, and brown lined the road beside him.

He was getting prepared to start walking ahead and see if he could find a gas station or house so that he could use a phone. That was, until he heard a noise approaching him. It was growing closer and closer. He finally determined it to be the load roar of an engine. At first he thought it was a four-wheeler, but as it got even closer he realized it was a motorcycle.

Rick waved his hands in the air, signaling he needed help. The man on the motorcycle pulled up beside him.

"Need some help?" The strange man on the motorcycle asked.

Rick nodded. He looked the man up and down, something about him looked eerily familiar. He couldn't place what it was, though. This wasn't a guy who ran in one of the circles he did. He doubted you would find him in his suburban neighborhood or out at the park that his son played in.

The man on the motorcycle had blue eyes short, light brown hair and a blond beard. He spoke with a heavy southern drawl and he was wearing a leather vest with angel wings on the back. Rick guessed he was somewhere around his age. As the man hoped off the bike, Rick noticed a crossbow on the side of it. He eyed the weapon cautiously.

Rick extended his hand to the man. "I'm Rick Grimes, by the way."

"Daryl," Daryl Dixon." Said the stranger in the leather vest.

"You live out this way?" Rick questioned the man

I grew up out here, but I left a long time ago. Just came back recently. My old man passed away.

"Sorry to hear that," Rick told him.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded. "Well, we gonna play 20 questions or ya want me to take a look at your truck?"

()()()

Daryl examined the truck and quickly determined that it was the radiator hose causing the problem.

"Do you have a place nearby and a phone that I can use so I can get it towed?" Rick asked after he was informed of the problem.

"I can do ya one better. I got a hose that'll fit it. Sit tight, I'll be back in a minute. My dad's place is just right down the road."

"You don't have to do that, I can just..."

"Nah, it's alright. There's all kinds of spare parts round the place. It's no big deal. Give me just a sec." Daryl hoped back on his bike and drove off.

Rick watched him as he drove away. Wondering if he should trust him or not. Daryl was a muscular man and he noticed that he had a tattoo peeking out from behind his shoulder blade and another on the inside of his right bicep, that particular tattoo seemed to bare a striking resemblance to a satanic figure.. He looked like a lot of the biker types that Rick had arrested over the years for drugs, theft, bar fights, and various other violations.

Yet something about the man seemed genuine. In the way he spoke and the way he stopped to help without a second thought. Rick had learned to read people from being a cop for so many years, and this Daryl guy didn't seem like a bad dude. He just didn't give him that vibe.

()()()

Daryl returned shortly, just like he said he would. He probably hadn't even been gone ten minutes by the time he got back. He hopped off the bike and immediately started to work on the truck so this Rick cat could get on his way.

"Are you hunter?" Rick asked as he eyed the crossbow sitting on the motorcycle again.

"Ya and I was on my way to find dinner, until I saw ya stopped here. Man's gotta eat, ya know?"

Rick nodded in understanding. "I appreciate you stopping for me. I didn't think anyone would ever come this way," He laughed lightly.

"There ain't much out here," Daryl muttered. "My old man's place was over that way," he pointed, back in those woods. It's a shack really, but it was home," Daryl sighed heavily. "Anyway, I'm almost done with your truck."

"You a mechanic?" Rick wondered aloud

"Have been. It just depends on what I can find at the time. I move around a lot. Me and my brother. Sometimes we work construction, sometimes we dig ditches, whatever job somebody'll give high school drop outs like us. It's just me for now, though. Merle's dumb ass went and got locked up. He got busted with some drugs, hard shit. He was already on probation. I kept trying to tell him." Daryl dropped the hood of the truck, creating a loud clang. "It should be good now. Cain't say the hose I gave ya will last forever, but it should at least get ya home."

"Thanks again, Daryl." Rick reached into his pocket to find some money to give the man for his troubles.

"I don't want your money," Daryl said, almost in a huff. "Keep it. Wasn't nothing. It was just a spare part my dad had laying around and he sure won't be using it no more."

Rick nodded and put his wallet away. He wanted to do something for him for going to the trouble of stopping to help and going out of his way like that. Without thinking, he just offered the first thing that popped into his mind. "Look Daryl, if you're free this weekend, why don't you come by my place? I'm grilling out. It's the least I can do to repay you. My wife is making desert. She makes one hell of a caramel cake." Rick wrote down his address and phone number and handed it to the man.

Daryl took the man's info and slid it into his pocket without another word. He doubted he would go, but the prospect of a full meal sounded pretty good to him and he really didn't have anywhere else in the world to be with Merle in jail.

()()()

Saturday came and Daryl thought about the invitation this Rick Grimes character gave him to come over for that grill out. It wasn't really his thing. Having a cookout with your family.

He slipped the piece of paper Rick had handed him days before out of his pocket and read the address he'd jotted down in sloppy script. He recognized the area as the suburbs. He and Merle had actually helped work on some of the houses near the area when they first started going up a few years back.

His stomach let out a low, rumbly growl and hunger started getting the best of him. There wasn't much food left in his dad's shack and he didn't really have any money either. He'd been hunting most of his food the last week.

He was really tired of being in that damn shack too. There were far too many bad memories there. The prospect of having a place to sleep and a roof over his head outweighed the bad memories for now. At least his dad wasn't here in the shack with him.

He finally got tired of thinking about everything and the repeated growls his stomach was emitting. Caving, he hopped on his bike and headed to Rick's house