This was given to me as a prompt by an anon. I decided I liked it so much, why not make it into a full featured fic? Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Prologue:

At first he couldn't believe his eyes. The feeling in his gut wrenching and twisted as he stared at the figure before him. Her blonde hair tied back, barely masking the jagged scar on her forehead. Her blue eyes, bright but holding no means of recognition. Beth. Daryl stared dumbfounded at the girl he had watched die. At the body he himself had carried and placed into the grave. Now here she was, five months-or at least, that was the best estimate he could make-later. Stomach swollen, arms curled around her middle. Alive. Pregnant.

His mouth grew dry as he continued to gaze in astonishment at the girl. She was dead. She should've been dead. And yet, here she stood. Daryl Dixon swallowed, heart pounding against his rib cage as his eyes fell to her stomach. Fell to where he knew his child grew. His baby. He hadn't known. She never had the chance to tell him. And despite everything, every little thing they had been through, it, like its mother had survived.

The tall, dark skinned man stepped beside her, his eyes focused on Rick. A look of acknowledgment and utter shock flashed across the sheriff's features as he stared at his old friend. Despite the odds, they had found their way to the Alexandria Safe Zone. Daryl took a step forward, arm outstretched towards Beth. He needed to know this wasn't a dream. That she was real. Alive. That this wasn't another one of his alcoholic hallucinations. He wanted the truth.

"Beth," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Is it…really you?"

"I'm sorry," came the all too familiar gentle voice. "But who are you?"

Chapter one:

The sun was blinding as Daryl made his way to the top of the watchtower, grogginess still clouding over his rational mind. He had forgone breakfast that morning, deciding instead to hold off until lunch. Most of the Alexandria residents were still in their beds as the archer clambered onto the solid ground of the structure, exhaling softly as he took notice of the figure sitting fast asleep against one of the metal tiers. It was no surprise to him that the man had managed to drift off, not that it was really any of his assigned concern.

"Buck."

The man stirred, shifting slightly against the backing. His baseball cap lay tilted against his face, shading him from the angry rays of sunlight. Shaking his head, Daryl knocked off the cap, the sudden movement causing the man to flinch and immediately awaken. Buck stared wide eyed at Daryl momentarily, his gaze slowly relaxing up the realization that he was not in any immediate danger. Smirk playing across his thin lips, the man nudged Daryl hard in the side.

"Nearly made me piss myself," he grunted. "Thought you were Rick."

"Lucky as hell that I ain't," Daryl muttered standing up. "Wouldn't be so nice."

Buck snorted, watching the other man with folded arms. He'd maybe been there for a little longer than Daryl-having apparently come all the way from Shreveport, Louisiana. And yet, despite the fortune of finding Alexandria, Buck still managed to find a way to relax even when work called for his duty. Daryl sighed, eyeing the figure with a slight look of disdain before peering over the edge of the tower.

It was-or was supposed to be at least-Buck's job to keep watch for any herds of walkers that may threaten the very existence of the zone. There were a few other points of observation, but this one was focused on the front of the zone, right where the main entrance gate was. Daryl wiped away at the sweat that spotted his brow, peering out past the many abandoned cars and other vehicles that littered the road. It was a wasteland to say the least. One that Daryl and a small group of others often found themselves exploring in the hopes of locating supplies.

"You goin' on a run today," Buck asked, his hands folded behind his head. "Heard Rick wants to scout the west quadrant."

"Maybe," Daryl muttered, cracking his knuckles before turning back to the man. "Better not catch you sleepin' up here again."

"I wasn't sleepin'," Buck insisted with innocence. "Just restin' my eyes is all."

Daryl snorted, licking his lips. An icy breeze blew, tendrils of its gust cooling the archer's burning skin. For a moment, his mind wandered elsewhere. Traveling to the depths of his thoughts that often were left untouched. Five months they had been here. Nearly half a year. It was, after all, the longest they'd ever stayed in a place besides the prison. He inhaled, his chest feeling heavy as he allowed his eyes to close momentarily. So much had happened. Pain. Suffering. Even with the passing time, he still found himself struggling to heal.

For a moment, he allowed his hand to slip into his pocket, digging out the sheathed knife that belonged to Beth. Carol had given it to him long ago, its use no longer required. His thumb stroked across the surface, feeling the leather against his worn, calloused fingers. He blinked, eyeing the weapon quietly before slipping it back into his pocket. As he turned to leave, Buck's shrill cry caused him to stop in his tracks.

"Look!"

Daryl gazed out to where the man pointed, seeing something off in the distance. People. The way they walked, their strides, it was impossible for such to be walkers. Daryl moved over to where Buck stood, his eyes focusing out of the tower. A man and a woman. Their weapons were not in sight, their expressions hard to see from where he stood, but as they drew closer to the gate, Daryl felt his stomach drop. Blood turning cold where he stood.

Beth.

Short chapter, I know. I promise they will get longer. Again, feedback is really appreciated. Let me know if this is worth continuing and if so, I will post another chapter tomorrow. Until next time, folks! -Jen