AN: Why do I keep starting stories and not finishing any of my other ones? Why do you all put up with me? Anyway, this one is AU, which I've never really tried my hand at, so I'm sorry if it sucks. And it will be kind of inspired by The Notebook (due to a post I saw on Tumblr by sammxhill!) though it won't follow the plot exactly...

The summer seemed to burn endlessly like a montage of sunsets, one bleeding into the next, a vast sea of orange and pink and gold - and him always next to her. Those two months, so short, stretched on for centuries. She supposed that was the way it was with love. They sat under the trees, or on a blanket in the field away from the farm and her family. It was all so long ago, but still, she could remember it as though no time had passed at all - as though she was waking up on the first day, looking into his eyes...

"Son, you've got no experience," Hershel said to the man standing in front of him.

One of the Dixon boys - nothing but trouble. The whole town knew about the family; the father was an abusive drunk on his best days, and the older brother wasn't much better, but Daryl... he was neither here nor there. He followed Merle around, and took up his scrapes, but kept Daryl kept his mouth shut and his drinking to a minimum.

"Spent most of my life outside," Daryl said, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "I'm strong. I know people think I ain't too smart, but I pick up fast, and I'll work hard."

Hershel held the resume in his hand. He hadn't spared it too much of a look - not only was it handwritten, but it was sparse. He had heard about the Dixon brothers running scams for cash, even whispers about peddling drugs. Hershel didn't know how much of what was said was the truth, so he tried to put it out of his mind.

"How did you even hear we were hiring?" Hershel asked. "We hadn't even got an ad up yet in the paper."

"I heard it 'round town," Daryl said, meeting the older man's eyes. "I was stoppin' in to pick up some stuff at the auto-shop for my bike, and Dale told me."

"You know Dale?" Hershel asked.

"Work for him sometimes," Daryl said. "Hours ain't much though. I got him down as a reference. He'll tell ya that I'm a good hire."

"Listen, son, I'm not sure -"

"I ain't," Daryl interrupted, clenching his fists, "- I mean, I'm trying not to be... I know what y'all think of my family. I'm tryin' to start again, on my own. Got my own place. Ain't much - four walls, barely a roof - leaks like hell when it rains. But it's mine. Y'know? Ain't never had anythin' that was just... mine. And I need the cash to keep it. To keep this goin'. And y'don't gotta hire me - I know I ain't ever been a farm hand, or whatever ya call it - but I don't deserve to be turned away cause of things ya've heard 'bout me."

Hershel looked at the younger man; Daryl's eyes were bright and sharp with determination, but red flagged his cheeks, coloured his ears. He had a feeling it wasn't the first time Daryl had been made to give this speech. He felt a sharp pinch of sympathy for the boy.

"I'll tell you what," Hershel said, going against his better judgement, "I'll give Dale a call, and if he confirms what you've told me, that you'll work hard and show up on time, then I'll start you on a trial basis."

"I appreciate that," Daryl said. "All I need is a chance. You'll see. I'll show ya I deserve the job."

Hershel walked from the porch steps up to the door. He called for his daughter, Beth, to bring him the telephone. A soft voice shouted back and then there was movement that could be heard and a sudden appearance of a blonde girl peeking out past the screen door.

"Here's the phone, Daddy," she said, holding out an old, clunky wireless that was about as big as her hand. She looked past her father at the man standing there, staring at his feet. "Who's your guest?"

"That's Daryl Dixon," he said, dialing the number. "He's applying for the open position - Hello, may I speak to Dale, please?"

Beth stepped around her father, seeing that he was busy. She hopped down the stairs gracefully, the heel of her cowboy boots making a satisfying thud when she landed. Daryl looked up at her suddenly, blue eyes taking in every detail of her face. She felt herself blush.

"Hey," she said, sticking her hand out, "I'm Beth."

"Know who y'are," he said, shaking her hand. Beth noticed how much larger his was, enveloping her own firmly and wholly.

"Oh, cause Daddy said somethin'?" she asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Naw," Daryl said. "Been into the store a couple times. Saw ya workin'."

"Oh, guess you would've been to the grocery store," she laughed. "After all, y'gotta eat, right? The aprons there are terrible though. Serious eye-sores. All those different plaids clashing."

"I dunno," Daryl said. "Didn't think it looked too bad on ya - I mean, in general. It ain't bad in general, so it wouldn't look bad on ya... or anyone there..."

"Well, I hope you get the job," Beth said, trying not to smile at his fumbling for fear of making him feel awkward. "Everyone else teases me when I go to work wearin' it. Anyway, I gotta get back inside. Got a pie baking for after dinner. It was nice to meet you, Daryl. Come through my checkout next time, alright?"

"Yeah," he said looking at her quizzically, "you got it."

Beth climbed back up the stairs and rested a hand on her father's arm before passing back inside, not looking back. Daryl turned his gaze to Hershel, who was laughing softly into the phone. A good sign? Then farewells were exchanged and he was walking over, looking Daryl in the eye. He tried to keep himself from looking away - which was always Daryl's first instinct when met with direct eye contact.

"Well, son, looks like you're starting tomorrow," Hershel said. "Dale didn't have a bad word to say against you, other than he wishes you'd get yourself to auto-mechanic school so he could promote you to full-time."

"Yeah," Daryl said, shifting on his feet. He didn't tell Hershel that he was planning on going back to school, when he could afford it, and that this second job was a huge step towards exactly that. He hadn't told Dale either. He was afraid of telling people and then not being able to afford to go, or worse, failing when he did manage to get there. "I'll be here tomorrow at...?"

"Four a.m.," Hershel said. "Usually you won't come in until six, but we got some training to do together."

"You got it," Daryl said, unwilling to complain.

On his drive home, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Beth. Maybe it was the big, yellow sun reminding him of her hair. Daryl had always noticed the girl around. She had such a big smile for every person she met. And one time, when he had come into the store beat up to hell from his father, unable to pay for most of his groceries because Merle had pocketed half Daryl's cash for drugs, she had bagged them anyway, telling him not to worry about it. It had been years ago - she probably didn't remember. Daryl had tried to refuse the help, but when she looked at them with those big, blue eye, he saw no pity and took the bags before he could change his mind. Daryl had been able to eat that week because of her kindness, and he had never forgotten it. In fact, he had been banking on that kindness being genetic when he had convinced himself to show up at the farm house, begging for the job.

It stung his pride, but at least he was free... at least he was his own man... at least he wasn't what or where he used to be... anything was better.