Hello. So, I'm nervous about posting this one. I almost backed out many times. I'm insanely in love with this story, more so than any other story I've posted, and sticking it out there to be scrutinized is oddly terrifying, which is weird because I'm not new to this, but I feel that way at the moment. Anyway, expect regular updates because it's almost complete. I have a chapter and a half left to write before it's finished. I really hope you all end up enjoying this as much I have enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One

Ten years old...

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, ignoring the ache in his back, ignoring the sting from the cuts he received every time he got to close to the overgrown brush and sharp branches. Thorns from a bush tore into his shirt, digging into the skin of his arms and for a terrifying moment he thought it was his dad, grabbing him to haul him back home and beat him again. He made a frightened desperate sound in the back of his throat and pushed his legs harder.

He wasn't worried about getting lost again. A year ago, right after his mom had died in a house fire, he had gotten lost in these woods. He had been lost for days and his dad hadn't even noticed. Merle had been gone, pulling some time in juvie. After that, Daryl had vowed that he'd never get lost again. He'd taught himself how to track. He'd taught himself how to listen to the woods. Now it was the only place he was able to find any solace.

He wasn't sure how long he had ran but when he finally slowed, his surroundings were no longer familiar. He was much deeper in the woods than he had ever been before but he didn't care. That meant he was further away from that house. He was further away from the angry drunken words that seemed to cut into him deeper than the briars and branches had during his run.

Worthless. Stupid. Should have been you that died in that fire. You're no good, boy. Won't nobody ever give a fuck about you. Me, your own damn daddy sure don't.

He stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him. He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve and dropped to his knees. Humiliation had him hanging his head, his slender shoulders stiff. Why did everything have to hurt so much? How come it never mattered what he did, he still wasn't ever good enough? He tried. God, he tried so hard. He thought maybe he tried harder than anybody else had ever tried before, but it did him no good. His mama stayed dead. Merle stayed gone. His dad stayed mad. No matter what he did... for some reason, everybody still hated him...

Sometimes he even hated himself because the words that his dad threw at him often, well, they had to hold some truth. If they didn't then surely he wouldn't feel so empty all the time. So alone and afraid. Always afraid. He really was worthless. He was stupid and he was no good and nobody was ever going to love him because of it. The world was just dark and the world was just cold and for the likes of Daryl Dixon, there wasn't any good to be found. His dad hated him. The kids at school mocked him. Merle abandoned him. He was only ten years old but he felt so tired already. Tired and more alone than any kid ever had the right to feel.

He pushed back up off the ground, not bothering brushing the dirt and dead leaves off the knees of his jeans. He started walking now, paying more attention to the sounds around him. A few times he stopped, tilting his head to the side because he'd think he heard the voices of people far away. He didn't care anymore. He kept walking until he came to the edge of the woods, his eyes widening at what he discovered.

Right there in front of him, beyond a wide stretch of white sand, was a lake. Far off in the distance he could make out the shapes of boats on the water and off to his right were houses sitting near the beach. That must have been the source of the voices he had caught snatches of in the woods. He realized where he was now. Those houses were vacation homes and this place was no place for a Dixon, that was for sure.

Instead of backing further into the woods, he found himself stepping out onto the sand. He was far enough away from the houses that no one could say he was trespassing and it wasn't like those people owned the whole lake. He had every right to look out over the water for a while. He was tired and he was sore and he couldn't, he wouldn't, go back home.

There was a large piece of driftwood, like a long dead tree, close to the waters edge and he decided it wasn't going to hurt anything to sit for a spell. He toed off his worn boots and carried them with him. The sun was high in the sky and he shrugged off his flannel shirt and laid it out on the log before he sat down, aware of how dirty the tee shirt he was still wearing was but he wasn't here to impress anyone. He frowned when he realized that his arms were cut up much more than he thought. There were several cuts that were bleeding freely and he realized with a start that his lip was still bleeding too. Bleeding from the hit he had taken from his dad.

"Hi."

He stiffened and nearly fell off the tree when he looked up into the freckled face of a girl. He stood up quickly, grabbed his shirt and boots and was about to bolt for the safety of the trees before this stupid girl could start laughing at him.

"You don't have to leave," she said quickly, holding up her free hand to stop him.

He wasn't sure why he did it, but he hesitated. She hadn't called him any names and she hadn't commented on his torn and dirty clothes. Briefly he met her eyes and was startled to see that they were the exact same shade as the sky. He looked away, his face flaming hot.

She held up a basket and then shifted on her feet nervously. "I came out here to have lunch. I brought plenty."

He looked up again and wasn't sure what to say.

"I don't mind sharing if you don't mind the company," she hedged. "I'm Carol."

He swallowed hard but he still wasn't sure what he was suppose to say.

"Can you talk?" She asked, not sounding very mocking at all, like she genuinely thought that maybe he couldn't speak.

He nodded and then remembered his lip was bleeding and wiped the blood away. Amazingly, she didn't seem to notice.

"There's other kids that live close by but they're a bunch of jerks so I like coming out here. As long as you promise not to make fun of me like they always do or shove me into the daggone lake, I'll split it with you. There's even pie," she offered.

He frowned and shook his head. "I wouldn't do nothin' like that."

This earned him a wide grin. It had him feeling like smiling back but he didn't. He was still waiting for the punchline. She sat the basket down and shook out a quilt that she had tucked under her arm. He watched her, still waiting for something, anything, bad to happen. She sat down on her knees and looked up at him. "Well, are you gonna sit down?"

He still thought maybe it would be smarter to just go on back home but his curiosity was overriding his fear at the moment. Surely this girl wouldn't go to all this trouble just to turn around and it be a big joke. He sat down a few feet away, at the very edge of the quilt.

"Here," she said quietly, handing him a few napkins. "For your lip."

He took them, wondering why she hadn't asked him what had happened to him. He suspected that there were a few bruises to match the busted lip but he wasn't going to complain about her not showing any interest in them. He wouldn't tell her what happened no matter what so he was glad she hadn't asked.

"Do you have a name?" She asked as she unloaded the basket.

His eyebrows shot up when he saw all the food she had. A container of fried chicken, potato salad, macaroni and cheese and a huge piece of pie. "Daryl," he muttered. "That's a lot of food."

She smiled and nodded. "My dad says I should be fat cause I can eat as much as him. Our names rhyme," she said as she handed him a paper plate and a spoon. "Mine and yours I mean, not mine and my dad's. You probably already knew that's what I meant though. I', sorry, sometimes I talk a lot when I get nervous."

He hesitated a moment and then took the plate.

"You aren't like other kids around here." She said before biting off a piece of chicken. This girl must have hated the quiet because she really did talk a lot and her words proved to make him nervous, even though she'd said that she was the nervous talker. He felt a little bad for thinking that this girl was just a little weird, but he'd never say that to her. Weird or not, so far she was nice.

He glanced up then, remembering what she had said about him not being like other kids. What was that suppose to mean? He wasn't sure so he just shrugged and took a bite of his own. It was good. Probably better than anything he'd ever eaten before.

"Every year we come here and every year the same stupid families come here and I just can't stand it. This one girl, Olivia, she's eleven, she thinks she's so great and she's always making fun of me. Her brothers are twins, they're ten, same age as me, and they're always giving me a hard time too. Then there's Bradly and Clair and they're twelve. They're best friends and since they're older they always say mean crap to me. They all stink. I'm glad I found you out here. Even if you're too quiet, at least you're nice so far." She rambled on and on and he was sure no one had ever said so much to him at once in all his life.

"I'm ten too," he said quickly once she paused to catch her breath.

She smiled. "Are you a townie?"

He felt his stomach twist painfully, wondering if townie was something bad. "A what?" He asked, bracing himself for her to laugh at him.

"Do you live here all year round or are you on vacation?"

Oh. Well, that wasn't bad. "I live here. Well, not on the lake. I live on the other side of the woods."

Her face fell. "Well crap."

He wanted to ask for another piece of chicken but he was too embarrassed. To his surprise she pushed the container towards him and motioned to it absently. He grabbed the biggest piece he seen.

"I wish you lived closer."

He looked up, stunned. "Why?"

She met his eyes, pausing with her spoon in front of her face. "So I would have someone to do things with. It's lonely out here."

He wasn't sure why anyone would give her a hard time. She was nice and she was pretty. She seemed funny. "How long are you stayin'?" He asked hesitantly.

She shrugged. "Another week. We've been here a week already. Sometimes we stay for three weeks. We come every year."

"I can come back," he said, hating that he couldn't stop blushing. He could feel the heat on his face and if he didn't stop it she was going to think he was weirder than she probably already did.

"You really aren't scared walking all the way here through the woods?" She asked, her eyes wide.

He shook his head. "I like the woods."

She glanced past him towards the trees. "Seems scary to me. You're a lot more brave than I am. Maybe the bravest ten year old I've ever met."

And that was when it happened. The first time that he could remember someone ever saying something good about him. He felt a small flicker of pride that someone would think he was brave. He felt the corner of his mouth turn up and then turned his attention back to his plate.

"You should smile more often, Daryl. You're awfully cute when you do. Cute and brave and willing to be friends with the girl that the rest of them pick on. Today is definitely my lucky day."

He thought his hair was going to catch fire. He couldn't believe the words coming out of this crazy girl's mouth. He almost skittered away when suddenly she was moving so she was sitting right next to him.

"Sorry but I'm all out of plates. We'll have to share this," she said, balancing the pie on her knee that was now pressed against his own. Without missing a beat she started in on the pie, so he joined her. She didn't act like sharing a plate with him was going to give her cooties or anything and he felt himself start to relax as she started talking about everything from her favorite color to what their plans for tomorrow were going to be.

He helped her clean up, figuring she would want to go back to her house. He surprised himself when he heard himself ask her if she wanted him to show her the woods.

Her blue eyes brightened. "Are you sure? Aren't there bears and snakes in there?"

He shrugged. "Maybe, but I ain't ever seen any."

"What if we get lost?"

"We won't. I did once but I know how to not get lost anymore. If you don't want then-"

She grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the trees. He was sure that his heart was going to pound clean out of his chest. He was holding hands with a girl. A nice girl. A girl that, for whatever reasons, thought he was cute.

~H~

Six days later Daryl woke up at the crack of dawn and hurriedly showered and got dressed. This had been the best week of his life and today was the last day. He had never had so much fun. He had never felt so good before and the thought of it being over after today really hurt. Carol was always thinking of stuff to do. She brought him lunch every day. She was always complimenting him and it had him feeling so good about himself that he didn't even care when his dad would start in on him. He hadn't gotten another beating since the day he had met her, mostly because he hadn't been home.

He ran like he had ran that first day, not wanting to miss a minute of his last day. Once he finally broke through the trees he spotted her sitting on the driftwood where he had found her waiting for him every day since the day she had stumbled upon him.

When she saw him she stood up and met him half way. "I'm so glad you made it!" she said, her eyes filling with tears. "We're leaving early because of traffic."

His heart sank but he tried not to show it. "I guess this is bye then, huh?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking down. His chest felt strange. Like a dull hollow ache that just may stay there for the rest of his life.

Suddenly he was nearly knocked over and he flinched reflexively, but she wasn't pushing him away. She was actually hugging him. He stood there like an idiot for a second before he pulled his hands out of his pockets and hesitantly wrapped his arms around her slender frame. He heard her sniffle next to his ear and without thinking he tightened his arms around her.

He knew she was crying but he didn't know what he could say to make it any better because he kind of felt like crying himself. It didn't matter that it had only been days since they had met. She was his friend. His only friend and she cared about him and had no shame in showing it. He wouldn't ever feel like this again and he knew it and it caused his chest to hurt and that lonely feeling that he had carried inside of him his whole life seemed to expand. She hugged him for a long time and he silently hoped that she wouldn't stop because it felt good. He wasn't used to feeling so needed and he wasn't used to anyone being so... good to him.

"I'm gonna miss you so much!" she said tearfully.

"Me too," he muttered, not nearly as shy as he had been that first day they had met.

"July first," she said quickly, pulling away but keeping her hands on his shoulders. He still hadn't let go of her.

"What?"

"We always come on the same day every single year. Will you be here?"

He nodded, a small spark of hope igniting in his chest, lessening that ache.

"You promise you won't forget?" Her eyes were pleading.

"I won't forget," he said firmly.

She glanced over her shoulder towards the houses in the distance and he saw the tears then, flowing freely. A lump formed in his throat but he refused to actually cry. Crying never solved anything but he'd never say that to her. The fact that she was crying because she was leaving him made him feel weird. A good weird though. When she turned back to face him she quickly hugged him one more time and then she kissed him.

Kissed him right there on the cheek and then she turned and ran off towards the houses. He watched her go, his face as red as a beet and his cheek tingling where her lips had been.

One year. All he had to do was get through one year and then he'd have his friend back. He didn't go home. He stayed there on the beach, looking out over the water and wishing he wasn't alone again.