A/n: I'm back! Sorry for the hiatus on all my stories. I can't believe I haven't updated or written in a year! I've hit a very rough patch in my life, between moving into my own place, changing jobs, working 7 days a week, and going to college. So here's a little idea I came up with one day while watching Walking Dead while discussing fixing my car with my dad.

Disclaimer: I do not own Walking Dead, or anything associated with Walking Dead. I do own my original characters though.

Chapter 1

It had been less than two months since the world ended. Well, technically at least. Two months ago, I was a 23 year old, brown haired, green eyed girl studying for her finals and preparing to graduate from Georgia State University as a physical therapist. And now, here I am, wandering the States with my father and a group of survivors. When zombie reports first hit the news, my dad was driving down from my hometown of Boston to get me out of Atlanta. My mom and sisters had refused to travel, so they stayed behind in Boston. But by the time my father had reached me, it was too dangerous to get back to Boston and we had lost contact with my mother and sisters. Our travels had led us to meet up with the most random group of survivors.

First there was Lori Grimes. Her husband had been in a coma when the infection hit and was presumed dead by his best friend Shane Walsh, who was now acting like a father to Lori's son Carl. Then there was Ed, an abusive husband to his wife Carol and his daughter Sophia. Then there was Andrea and Amy, two sisters who's relationship reminded of me and my sisters at times. Then there were the Dixons.

Merle Dixon was an obvious druggie, his racist rants and actions nearly pushed us all to the snapping points at one time or the other. His younger brother Daryl was only 5 years old than me, but followed his brother's word like it was the law. Which was a shame because when we first joined the group, me and Daryl had gotten a small conversation in about hunting before Merle had interrupted, making some snide comments that lead to a fist fight between him and my father, only for guns to be drawn. After that, I kept my distance from the Dixons, only stealing glances at Daryl every now and then. Most of the group assumed he was a stupid racist redneck like his brother, but in the short 10 minute conversation he had proved himself to me to be the opposite. He may not have spoken the best English, but he had brains unlike his brother. And he had looks too, also unlike his brother. But I learned my lesson. While Merle and Daryl were together, I had to keep my distance.

I didn't talk to the rest of the group, kept to myself other than talking to my father and Amy. It was a zombie apocolypse, not high school. No need to get into any one's business unless it was threatening your life.

"Ronnie, you're day dreaming again," the voice was that of my father's, his Boston accent standing out clearly.

"I was just thinking about life before shit hit the fan," I admitted, digging through my bag for my cigarettes and lighter before heading out of the tent. I found a quiet place a bit further from the camp, but close enough in case any walkers came out of the woods.
Taking a long drag of the Marlboro light in my hand, I kept my eyes straight ahead of me, peering in the darkness, not necessarily looking for something in particular.

"You shouldn't be doing that," a deep voice behind me whispered.

"And why not Dixon?" I laughed before taking another long drag. Plopping down beside me, Daryl took the cigarette out of my hand.

"Because, they're bad fo' you," he stated, smirking before he took a drag. I scoffed, reaching for the Marlboro light.

"No, really. Your dad'll kill ya if he sees you smoking," Daryl replied, holding the cigarette away from me, "Hey this ain't time for you to be tryin' to get on your daddy's bad side."

"I've never been on his bad side. It's the end of the fuckin' world, Daryl. I think my dad can put up with this one bad habit," I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"They can kill ya," Daryl laughed.

"Oh yeah. Say that as you're puffing on one. Smart move Daryl." I huffed, "Can I please have my cigarette back?" Daryl studied me for a moment before handing me the cigarette back, "Let's share it."

"Ok," I nodded before taking another drag. As I exhaled the smoke, I asked, "Where's Merle?" As I handed Daryl the cigarette, Daryl shrugged, "No idea. Probably getting high in the woods."

"Won't he be mad at you for talking to me?" I questioned, studying the tracker for a minute before continuing, "I mean, didn't he call me a 'stuck up, snobby, arrogant prude'?" Daryl laughed at the memory, smoke coming from between his lips, "Yeah he did. Bu' he didn't mean it. He jus' gets riled up." I shrugged as Daryl handed me back the Marlboro. Taking a drag, I saw Merle's figure approaching us from the woods. Once last drag and I shoved the cigarette in Daryl's hand.

"Here he comes. Nice talking to you," I whispered before heading back to the tent I shared with my father. As I walked, I heard Merle yelling something, but I ignored him and kept walking. Rolling my eyes, I climbed into the tent and zipped up the door before snuggling into my makeshift bed.

It was the next day that some of the group was heading into the city for supplies. I watched as they got ready to go. 'They' meaning my father, Merle, T-Dog, Andrea, Glenn, and Jacqui.

"Dad are you sure this is a good idea?" I whispered to him while I watched him grab his baseball bat from our tent.

"Ronnie, I'll be fine. We're running out of supplies, so we need to go to the city to get more," he tried negotiating, "I'll bring you back a nice car."

"You better!" I snapped, sitting down on my makeshift bed, "Just be careful dad." My father patted my head before walking out of the tent, "Of course Ronnie." I followed him to the van they were using to get into the city. As I watched them drive off I sighed, pulling my cigarettes out of my pocket. I sensed someone standing next to me and without looking, I offered a cigarette. A rough calloused hand took it from me and lighted it.

"Don't worry, ya da'll be fine," the Southern accent made me smile.

"I know he will."

It took every fiber in my body to hold Daryl Dixon back from doing anything stupid as the words that the newcomer had said sunk in; Merle was pretty much left for dead in the city. And much as I hated Merle, my heart dropped as I watched Daryl's face change drastically. Finally, he broke out of my grasp and launched himself at Rick Grimes, before Shane got him into a chokehold. After a moment, Shane let him go and I watched as T-Dog admitted it was his fault that Merle was now chained to a roof, a padlock keeping walkers from getting to him. All I heard was Daryl shouting, because my brain was still processing all the information I just heard.

"Hell wit all of ya'll!" I watched as Daryl whiped his eyes, "Just tell me where he is, so I can go get him!" Rick agreed to go with Daryl to find Merle and I turned to my father as he approached me.

"What the hell happened?" I snapped as we walked towards our tent.

"Merle was acting out of control, fought with T-Dog. So, Rick, Lori's husband handcuffed him to a pipe. Turns out T-Dog dropped the key down a pipe so we had to leave his handcuffed there so we could get out. The door to the roof was chained shut though, so the Walkers couldn't get to him," my father explained as he entered the tent. Turning on my heel, I walked towards the tent that Daryl shared with his brother. Standing outside of it, I sighed, "Daryl. It's Ronnie." I could hear movement in the tent and knew that he was in there.

"Daryl, can I come in?" I asked. After a minute, the zipper slowly went up and the flap flipped back.

"What do you want?" Daryl was back on his air mattress, facing away from me. I entered the tent and sat down on the air mattress beside him after I zipped the tent flap back up.

"Are you ok?" I whispered, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder. Daryl suddenly turned towards me, "Do I look fuckin' ok?" I flinched, without realizing it and drew my hand back. His icy blue eyes were watery and his mouth was in a tight line.

"I'll just go then," I whispered before starting to get up, but a calloused hand grabbed my wrist. Looking back at him, I titled my head and he sighed, staring at the ground.

"Please, don't leave." Sitting back down, I wrapped my arms around his neck, his head buried in my shoulder as sobs wracked his body. Even though his brother was the biggest piece of shit alive, it was still his brother. His only blood relative left. I couldn't imagined what he felt.

A/n: Ok so there's Chapter 1. I'm feeling a little doubtful on this chapter, I may rewrite it eventually. But I wanted to get this chapter out of the way, so I could move on with the story. it will get better from here. I promise, I do have alot of ideas, just had a rough patch deciding where I wanted to start. I understand that Daryl may seem a little out of character, but I imagine that he did walk off and cry about his brother being left for dead.