A/N: This has been bouncing around in my head for months and I finally decided to write it out. Not sure how long it will be yet. Definitely AU. Dixon mouth ensues and I will try to put a warning up when and if there is sensitive subject matter. CARYL abounds.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 1

Life had never been kind to Daryl Dixon. It was a truth universally acknowledged that the man had had it rough. It wasn't just the fact that his family was full of assholes and pricks, but also that the same assholes and pricks would whip your ass soon as look at you. No, family had never meant much to Daryl Dixon. Perhaps that is why he ended up so far from home, trying to make a life for himself out of the shadow of his family's misdeeds and the choices that he had made that just wouldn't leave him be. Things from years ago, that should have just been memories, were still haunting him.

He had managed, if you will, to break free from the stronghold of the hometown that had managed to capture so many of his kin, refusing to let them go and holding them back, though not without his own personal sacrifices. His record was enough of a testimony to that.

Ten years he had spent locked up in the pen. Ten years before he finally tasted freedom again. Ten years before he was able to take a piss or a shower without looking over his shoulder. Two years out and he still wasn't used to it. But he had managed.

The man sighed, trying to shake the memories as he finished beneath the hood of the jag he was working on. He was lucky, he presumed, to be able to hold a job now. A fact his parole officer hadn't let him forget since the day he stepped foot in her office.

Jacqui was a hard ass, always bitchin' about one thing or another, but he knew she had his best interest in mind. He was lucky really, that he had been assigned to her. The last two years may not have gone as smoothly if not for her never-ending nagging.

"Hey man! Heard you are officially free today!" He turned to see Axel walking towards him, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. "Welcome to the club."

Daryl scoffed but offered a nod. "Thanks."

"Bunch of us are goin' out to Sandy's tonight. You gonna join?" the man asked, stopping to lean against the jag as he questioned Daryl.

"Nah. I got shit to do here. Gotta finish up a couple of jobs."

It wasn't that he minded the guys he worked with. In fact, a few of him he might actually call friends. Most of them were like him, rough around the edges and a criminal record under their belt. Axel was about as dumb as paint, charged with armed robbery it had taken years before the man had been acquitted and his sentence reversed. Time like that though, it does things to a man and Axel just hadn't handled it well.

"Alright, alright." The man acquiesced, pushing off from the car. "But you know where we are if you want to have a good time."

Daryl snorted as the man walked away, finishing his parts list before starting to clean up his area.

"Dixon!" Daryl turned to see his boss, Abe, holding up the phone, shaking it in his direction.

He sighed and grabbed the rag out of his back pocket, cleaning his hands as he walked towards the main office.

"Phone." Abe growled, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork in front of him.

Abraham Ford was just about the only person Daryl had ever met who willingly worked with convicts. An ex-military man, he was gruff and mean but Daryl was sure it was mostly for show. The man had a soft spot for women and though he'd never admit it, babies visiting in the shop always got a smile out of the man.

"Hello?" Daryl said once he had picked up the receiver, turning to face the windows that overlooked the shop floor instead of his boss.

"Daryl?" The voice said, unsure.

"This is him."

"Daryl, this is Rick Grimes. Don't know if you remember me or not…"

Daryl closed his eyes, shaking his head as visions of his last night in Temple played through his mind, the sound of sirens ringing through his ears.

"I remember." He said at last.

"You're a tough man to track down Mr. Dixon." Rick laughed lightly on the other end of the line. "Had my partner and me running every which way following your trail."

"Do ya need somethin' or ya just wantin' to shoot the shit?" He groused.

Rick sighed on the other end of the phone, his banter coming to an end as he took a deep breath. "Daryl, your father passed away."

Daryl exhaled, his lungs emptying fully, as the man on the other end of the line sat quietly. The seconds dragged, neither saying a word before finally, officer friendly broke the silence.

"Daryl, you still there?"

"Yah." Daryl ground out, his jaw clenching. "Don't know why you're calling me though. Damned man ain't meant shit to me. Best talk to my brother if you want some sympathy for that asshole."

"Well… that's the thing." Rick said. "Merle has gone missing."

Daryl sighed, rubbing his face with his gritty palm. "So what? You need my permission to put the bastard in the ground or what?"

"No, nothing like that." Rick assured him. "We do have the matter of his estate to attend to."

"Man ain't got no estate." Daryl sneered.

"Well actually, he did. And we have to notify next of kin. Since Merle isn't around, that's you."

"Well, have fun with that."

"Daryl…"

Daryl didn't wait to hear anymore as he turned and hung up the phone, not meeting Abe's questioning gaze as he slipped back out in to the shop, eager to get as far away from people as possible.

He left before anyone could stop him, making it back to his singlewide on the other side of town in record time and throwing himself across his old, sagging couch. He guessed Rick Grimes thought he would have felt something, anything, for the man that helped give him life. Rick Grimes, however, didn't know about all the times that same man had threatened to take it away from him. He didn't know about the bruises and broken bones. He didn't know about the scars on his body that served as a daily reminder of what a fucked up life he lived. No one knew about that save for one person. The same person he'd been trying to forget, unsuccessfully, for twelve years. And just as he thought he had managed to escape her, she was back, staring at him as he pulled away, handcuffed in the back of a squad car, his last words still ringing in his ears and burning his throat.