ATTENTION: This chapter has spoilers for "This Sorrowful Life." I don't know why you wouldn't have seen it by now, but just in case.

A/N: So I was going to do the next chapter of "Fix You" before I posted again in here- but I was thinking about last week's episode and... I had to. I couldn't handle ittttt. Poor Baby. :( That scene was phenomenal. The reveal, his reaction, everything. So well done. But, of course, I couldn't just get over it. So I'm writing about it. You'll notice this installment is less smexy, more sentimental. SadDaryl needs a hug, and this is for him.

Also, just for clarity- This is set during the winter, when Merle is alive but Daryl hasn't seen him in ages and thinks he might be dead. I wanted to write one for postmortemMerle, but then I was like "wellllll the finale might make anything I write totally improbable." And that would bug me. A lot. So I settled on this.

Also also (haha, sorry), someone requested a Merle one shot. I don't think this counts. Still working on that. But I also got a request for the first time Daryl says "I love you," and I combined that in here. So there ya go ;)


The first time Daryl told me about his past was also the first night I told him that I loved him. The two weren't related, really. Only by circumstance. I'd loved him long before that talk, there just... wasn't an opportune moment.

It had been months since we left Atlanta and the farm... months since Daryl had seen his brother. It was bothering him, much more than he intentionally let on. But that night, I knew. And all I wanted to do was help.


I hadn't seen Daryl for hours. It was... well, it was weird. I was so used to at least seeing him, even if we didn't talk. He'd taken to checking on me when he thought I wasn't looking. Whenever we were hunting, or traveling, or even just sitting around talking- I'd glance up and see him watching me. It wasn't a lustful gaze. It was protective. He was making sure that I was okay, that I was safe. And even if I was perfectly safe before seeing him check on me, when I was just sitting and talking to Maggie or whatever I was doing- looking up and catching that caring gaze... that's what made me feel safe.

Once I realized how often he did it (which was pretty much always), I'd taken to doing the same in return. I'd look up, catch his eye (which was inevitably already on me) and take the opportunity to check on him, as well. It was Daryl, though, so I don't know why he ever wouldn't be fine. But seeing it was reassuring, and I think that's what we were both really looking to find when we sought each other out in the group. Reassurance. Such a small thing, but... I didn't have it right now. Daryl was missing in action. I had asked Rick, but they hadn't talked in a couple of hours. Glenn didn't know, either. Where had he gone...?

He definitely wasn't in any of the vehicles. We had finished clearing all of those out hours ago, getting all the necessary supplies in for the night. We were staying at an old mattress store, oddly enough- not usually a first choice, but somebody had already boarded up some of the windows. Also, it was right next to a couple of shopping centers, so hopefully it would be a good spot for a supply run. Glenn and Maggie would find out soon enough.

But where would Daryl go in a mattress store? Most of the group was already "settled in"- they had found a mattress (there were a lot of them intact, surprisingly) and were slowly falling asleep, or talking about... stuff and things. I dunno. I didn't care. Where was Daryl?

I walked outside, thinking maybe he was doing a perimeter check, but I still couldn't find him. It was dark and cold, making me hug my arms around myself and wish I had a thicker sweater. I was about to turn back to go inside when I saw a small cloud of smoke on the roof appear and then quickly fade.

The roof. Of course he was on the roof.

I looped to the back of the store, keeping an eye out for any trouble, and eventually found the way he had gotten up there- a dumpster with a makeshift ladder propped against it. The darkness made it a little difficult to see, but I managed, and soon I was standing behind him.

The roof was pretty standard: flat with some of those random little box-like things. I think they were for air conditioning, but they were useless now. Daryl was leaning against one of those, closer to the edge of the building, facing away from all the vehicles below. One leg up, one leg straight, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips, gaze down. The smoke that came out of his mouth was mixed with steam as he took a slow drags.

I knew he'd heard me. I wasn't trying to be quiet, but even if I was- Daryl was a hunter. I couldn't sneak up on him. He didn't acknowledge me, though, as I moved to sit across from him, my back against the high siding of the roof. Even when we were facing each other, he didn't move except to keep smoking.

"Hey," I greeted.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

He shrugged, took another drag.

Something was weird. Off. Daryl often got lost in his thoughts, but this was different. Why did he look so... sad?

"Daryl?"

He finally glanced over at me, lips puckered around the white stick. I was struck by how tired he looked, the bags under his eyes more prominent than usual. His eyes, that cerulean color I loved, were still bright- but the brows above them seemed heavier. He finished his drag, the muscles in his face relaxing as he exhaled. "Hm?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? No."

I frowned. So something was definitely bothering him. He was sad and he was being difficult. Great. Sighing, I brought my knees up to my chest to wrap my arms around them. It was getting colder.

Daryl tilted his head back to lean against the support behind him, another smoky breath passing his lips. The arm with the cigarette was still against his knee, but the other one was by the ground, idly fingering the full-looking pack. I'd never smoked. Not once. I'd never wanted to before. I was always so concerned with health risks- cancer and disease and stuff. But now... Cancer didn't seem to be such a big deal when you literally faced death every day. So why not?

I held my hand out to Daryl, the sudden movement catching his attention. His head tilted toward me lazily in curiosity.

"What?" he asked, white tendrils escaping his mouth along with the word.

"I want a cigarette."

He snorted, head leaning back once more. "No, ya don't."

"Yes, I do. Come on... Just one?"

"...Yer bein' serious?" His gaze was fully on me now, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Ya've never smoked before, have ya?"

"No."

He regarded me for a moment. "Yer sure?" I nodded and he reached for the pack by his side, tapping one out. "Come 'ere." Scooting closer to him, I watched as he lit my cigarette with the end of his own. He handed it to me once the tip was burning. "Go for it, Hot Shot."

As I brought the filter to my lips, I briefly wondered if this was really a smart choice. I'm sure Daryl would smoke it if I decided not to... But looking up to his eyes, I saw a challenge there. He didn't think I'd do it. And to my competitive brain, that meant that now I had to.

So I took a teeny, tiny little drag, feeling the smoke in my mouth as it tickled the top of my trachea, before I blew it out again. I was waiting to cough and sputter like people always did on TV, but there was nothing. Feeling proud of myself, I looked up at Daryl, who was smirking and shaking his head at me.

"Ya know what yer doin' there, Groucho?"

I shoved at his arm. "I'm starting small! This is new, okay?"

"Small, right. Ya barely took any in. Doesn't count. Try again."

Feeling defiant, I raised the cigarette to my lips once more, fully intending on taking an even smaller drag, just to spite him; but Daryl had other plans. As soon as I began to breathe in, his free hand reached over to poke at my side, tickling me. Which surprised me. So I gasped. Except instead of gasping oxygen, I gasped smoke.

Yep. There was that sputtering cough I thought I'd avoided.

I could feel tears in my eyes by the time my chest finally calmed down. My breath was wheezy and I'm sure my face was red. So basically I was feeling like crap, the cigarette in my hand no longer burning. But then a hand reached up to slowly rub my back, and, looking up, I saw Daryl smiling at me.

"It's s'posed t'be more like that."

Rubbing my back was a sweet gesture, but I was still mad at him. "That was mean!"

He chuckled. "Didn't like it?"

"No thanks to you, Jerk. Here." I handed the cigarette to him, which he quickly lit to replace the one he'd just finished.

"Well ya shouldn't be smokin' anyways."

"Oh, and you should?"

His hand had moved to grip my waist, pulling me closer to his side. I couldn't tell if it was his way of an apology or if he was just trying to keep warm. Either way, I went willingly, settling into his side even more when his thumb began to stroke slowly up... down... up... down... at my side.

"Prob'ly not," he admitted, the smoke disappearing in front of my eyes. We stayed that way for awhile: him smoking, holding me to him; me leaning into him, hands toying with the pack he'd left by his leg. It was quiet and cold, but the night was clear, and Daryl was warm, so I didn't mind so much. I was getting drowsy by the time he spoke again. "Merle gave me my first cigarette."

And just like that I remembered why I'd sought him out on the roof to begin with. Something was bothering him, something I wanted to help him with. I should've known it had something to do with Merle. He never wanted to talk about Merle.

And yet... here he was. Bringing him up.

"How old were you?" I asked after a long pause, wanting to make sure he didn't have anything else to say.

"Dunno. Ten, maybe? Younger?" I tried to picture Daryl as a child, his brother tricking him into smoking like Daryl had just done to me. The image was odd. I'd never thought of Daryl as a child before. I bet he was adorable. "I hated it."

This caused me to laugh. "You mean you didn't pick up chain-smoking immediately?"

The hand at my side squeezed a little tighter. "No. Brat."

"Tell me about it," I requested softly, leaning my head against his shoulder. He was silent for a long time, and I thought he wasn't going to answer. But then his thumb began again, up... down... up... down...

"I'd spent all day at home avoidin' our Ol' Man. He was just back from a bender, and I just... I wanted to be somewhere else, ya know? Couldn't really go anywhere, though. I was just a kid. So I went lookin' for Merle. Found 'im by the lake, hangin' out with his friends or whatever they were. They were all a lot older than me. I was the annoyin' kid brother. I could tell he wanted t'tell me off, send me back home or somethin'. But the others told him to keep me around. They thought it'd be funny t'see me smoke. So Merle hands me his cigarette, says 'Here, Little Brother. Breathe deep. Ya won't feel a thing.' So I asked him why bother then? And he says, 'Well it tastes good.' And he was my brother. So I did it. Thought I was gonna die from coughin' so much. They all just laughed. Merle took it back from me and sent me on my way. Made sure I wouldn't tell Pop, and didn't look back."

Here he took a long pause, flicking his cigarette away. The image he'd conjured began to fade. "Did you go home after?"

"Nah. I just stayed out in the woods for awhile. Didn't smoke again 'til I was maybe eighteen. This is the same brand I smoked that night. Same kind as th'first time I bought 'em, too. They were Merle's favorite."

I looked back at the pack in my hands, eyes flicking over the striped logo, the horseshoe in the corner. He'd found the cigarettes. That's what had made him think of Merle.

"Tell me more about him?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Anything."

"Ain't much t'tell. He was a tough son-of-a-bitch. Didn't always make fer good stories."

I shrugged, reaching across my stomach to hold his hand in mine. "He taught you how to hunt, didn't he? Tell me about that."

Daryl half-laughed, half-sighed. "He tried to teach me, but I was always better'n him, and he knew it. He'd take me out in th'woods for days when our Pop was gone, teach me how to trap and shoot... When I was ten, he helped me take down my first deer. Showed me how to skin it..." He laughed again, both the sound and the movement shifting through me since I was so close. "There was this one time..."

And just like that, he was off, the soft, Southern timbre of his voice coloring his memories for me. I first heard about the time Merle accidentally picked the wrong plant during a camping trip and the two of them had indigestion for days... and the time Merle convinced Daryl to steal candy from the gas station for him (which was a success, so Daryl got to keep half the stash for himself)... then there was the time they snuck liquor from their dad's pantry and had to stay out of the house for days to avoid a beating (not quite as successful as the candy)...

These were the pretty neutral stories. Daryl had said there weren't good ones, but there were.

There was the time Merle taught Daryl how to throw knives; and when Daryl got three bulls-eyes in a row after his first lesson, Merle took him to celebrate (they got milkshakes- Daryl was way too young to drink)... And there was also the time a school bully tried to pick on Daryl, so Merle taught him how to fight. Daryl won against the bully, but then his friends beat Daryl up, so Merle found the bully and threatened him- Daryl never knew why the bully left him alone until years later... Then there was the time Daryl was trying to set a trap too high up in a tree by their house. He fell and broke his ankle, and Merle found him, took him to the hospital, made sure he got got the dark green cast (apparently the nurse wanted to make it blue, which was not what Daryl had asked for)...

All the stories were told randomly, the adventures mixed in with the anecdotes. I added comments or asked questions at times, but mainly he just talked. His voice got raspier the longer he spoke, the longer he smoked. The pack was almost gone now. We must've been out there for hours, holding each other, keeping each other warm.

He was finishing a story about Merle teaching him how to drive stick shift on their old Ford. Apparently Daryl picked it up pretty fast but kept grinding the gears just to piss Merle off; and Merle did get pissed- really pissed. He got out of the truck and went to the driver's side to try and throw Daryl out of the cab; but as soon as he was out of the way, Daryl just drove off.

"Fuck, he was so pissed at me," he said, laughs falling out of his mouth faster than the smoke from his last cigarette. "He was yellin' and cursin'... and I just drove off. Lucky I didn't get pulled over. I was barely tall enough to see over the dash." He sighed, his voice slowing down. "Was just a few days after that when he left."

"Where'd he go?"

"Dunno. Ended up in th'military, though. Didn't see 'im again for years."

"And you stayed at home?"

"Didn't have a choice. Too young t'live on my own."

"Did you guys ever talk about it?"

" 'Bout what?"

"I dunno. Everything. Your dad. Merle leaving."

"Nah," he said, smirking sadly. "Dixon men never talk 'bout their feelings."

"Well... did you ever forgive him?"

"Which one?" he sighed. "My Ol' Man for gettin' drunk and beatin' the shit out of us? No. Not when he was alive." I winced as he spoke, unable to stop myself. If he noticed, he ignored it.

"And Merle?" I asked, almost afraid of what he might say.

"Merle..." He sighed again. "I remember when I was a kid, after he was gone and I was alone with Pop... I was so mad at him. All th'time. I was furious that he just... left me there. But no matter how mad I got, how many fights I got in, how many beatin's I took... I missed 'im. And that just made me more mad, ya know? I didn't wanna miss 'im. But I always did."

He looked so young in that moment. So sad. I just wanted to hold him.

So I did.

Slowly, I moved to wrap my arms around him, waiting for him to adjust so he was leaning into me, the crown of his head tucked against my neck, auburn hair tickling my chin. I honestly didn't think he'd let me hold him like this- I was basically coddling him- but he was so exhausted that he just went along with it.

"And you miss him now."

"Yeah. But I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"... He left me again. Just like last time."

I held him tighter, one hand absentmindedly stroking his back. "He's your brother, Daryl, and you'll always miss him, no matter what he does. But it's not just like last time. You're not with your father, and you're not alone."

He began to pull away, "I know..."

"No, listen. Daryl, people care for you here. You're not just needed- you're wanted. And you have to know that. You have to know that we love you, that... that I love you."

He didn't move or say anything for a long time, and I worried that I'd gone too far, that I'd overwhelmed him. And maybe I had. I hadn't meant on telling him until he told me- I was old-fashioned like that. But I knew I felt it, and now seemed like a better moment than most. And I was pretty sure he felt the same way, even if I wasn't expecting him to say it back. Still, though. He was most likely overwhelmed. And it was my fault. I mean, he'd just finished telling me about his childhood- which wasn't exactly overflowing with warm fuzzies- and here I was, basically telling him that I was overflowing with warm fuzzies because of him.

Yeah. My timing could be better.

I didn't regret it, though.

And I didn't want to give up just yet. So I just held him to me, fingers moving up to idly run through his hair, feeling his warm breaths against my skin, until he spoke.

"Why?"

I guess the question didn't really surprise me.

I sighed, turning my head to kiss his hair. A small part of me was relieved that he hadn't rejected me. A larger part of me just wanted to cry and hug him for days.

"You're one of the best men I've ever met, no matter how much you'll try to deny it. You're strong. You're smart. You're funny... well, sometimes. You're rude, but honest, which is kinda hot." He chuckled at that, pulling away enough so that he could look me in the eyes, his face staying close to mine. I could see the uncertainty in his cerulean gaze, and I honestly had no idea if anything I was telling him would stick. But I had to try. "You're also brave. And selfless. And you always try to protect everyone."

He sighed and looked away, trying to deflect. "Nothin' ya couldn't say about Rick or Glenn..."

"No. I couldn't say that about them. They're different." He looked back at me. "Rick, Glenn, all the others... They aren't that for me. They aren't strong for me. They aren't funny or smart for me. They aren't selfless and brave for me. They don't protect me, or take care of me. Not the way that you do. Never that way. And they never can." He just continued to gaze at me. I reached a hand up to cup the side of his neck, my thumb stretching to stroke the shell of his ear. Taking a deep breath, I made the final leap. "All that other stuff- Daryl, it matters, yes. But I love you because of all that and because... nobody else makes me feel loved like you do."

He held my gaze for the whole of my confession, but when I finished, he looked down, tilting his head to rest his forehead against mine. I tried not to cry- not because I regretted telling him. I would never regret that. I just felt so... happy that I could tell him. That he listened. He knew now, and that was all I wanted after all those stories he'd told me.

It was all I wanted, but I got more.

He reached his hand up to cover mine at his neck, fingers lacing through my own.

"Ya feel that way... 'cause ya are."

Feel that way...?

Feel loved...

Because I am. I am loved. By Daryl. Daryl loves me.

And I love Daryl.

Turning my head up slightly, I didn't try to hide the smile on my face. I kissed his forehead. Then his nose. Then his eyes. Anywhere, I could reach, really. He started to laugh and pulled away.

"Yer nose is cold," he said softly, reaching both of his hands up to cup my face.

"Sorry it's fucking freezing out. I didn't plan to spend my night on the roof."

He smiled and began to lean in. " 'Night ain't over yet."


As I recall, I got a cold soon after that. It really had been freezing. I didn't mind so much, though. I mean, I had Daryl to make me feel better. And it was always nice to have someone who loved you there to take care of you.

Also, he refused to kiss me until I got better, so that was pretty good motivation, as well.

Sly bastard.


A/N: BOOM. That was pretty long. But this was probably one of my favorite ones to write. I'm in a pretty emotional place right now, though, with last week's episode and the finale coming up and Daryl just being Daryl. So yeah. That happened.

Review please, and let me know what you think! I'm still working on that list of requests. Expect more soon. But probably another chapter of "Fix You" before another one-shot. Gotta try to keep some balance. :)