Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead. All characters belonging to the series are property of the creators of the television series and graphic novels.

The Wild Child

Chapter 1

Daryl Dixon rolled out from under the belly of the freshly renovated 1967 VW bus and wiped his grease-blackened fingers on the oily red bandana he fished out of his pocket. He grunted and stood, wiping sweat away from his forehead with the back of his grimy hand. The hay under his boots crunched when he turned to peer at the older man behind the wheel.

"We ready?" the man asked, his brown eyes squinting at the sunlight filtering through the slats in the side of the barn.

"Give it a shot," Daryl urged. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as the older man turned the key in the ignition. It turned over easily, and the sound of a fully restored engine reverberated through the barn. To Daryl Dixon and Hershel Greene, it was the sweetest music. "We did it."

"I think we both know you did most of the work," Hershel chuckled, cutting the engine and opening the driver's side door. He was right, but it had started out as their project together, and for two years it stayed that way until this past spring when the crops hadn't done well, and Hershel had had to devote more of his time to farm work.

"She looks good, don't she?" Daryl asked, gesturing to the shiny orange paint job with white detailing on the hood and back end. It looked like something straight out of a Woodstock picture or something. It really was a marvel to look at. Shiny and sleek, transformed from an old hippy bus to a four-seat van with a bed in the back end, perfect for a couple of young lovers setting out for an adventure on the road. Man, they were set to make a good chunk of change on that one.

"Sure does, son," Hershel chuckled. "Never thought I'd see the day that old rust bucket would actually turn out like a shiny new penny. When you get your mind set on something, you sure do see it through." Daryl ducked his head a little and chuckled, receiving the pat on the back from the old man with a sheepish grin.

"I think we're ready to put her up for sale. Want me to put an ad out?" Daryl asked. Hershel shook his head.

"Nah, we're not selling her."

"What?"

"Maybe that was the idea when we first started working on it, but we've put too much time and effort into it to just give it away."

"Well, what're you gonna do? Give it to Maggie or Beth?"

"Either of them got a driver's license yet?"

"No," Daryl snorted. Maggie was a year younger than him, seventeen, but she'd failed her driving test twice already. Growing up driving tractors around the farm was one thing, but driving her daddy's old pickup was another. Daryl had been working with her on it, and while she was improving, she was afraid to take the test again for fear of failing.

Then there was Beth, who at age twelve, was content to run free on the farm and do her very best to be just like her older half-sister. For Daryl it was funny. For Maggie it was a pain.

"You just graduated. You're going to college in the fall. You're about to take the trip of a lifetime. I wanted to give you something special." Daryl opened his mouth to speak, but Hershel held a hand up. "The money was one thing. You're gonna need that. But you're grown now. You've got the best summer of your life ahead of you. Maybe you don't know it yet, but I do. I know you wanna get out on the road on your bike and see the country, but it'd do my old heart a world of good to know that you're safe on four wheels."

"Dad. You're serious?" Daryl looked at the old bus and then back at Hershel.

"You remember the day we got this old thing?" Hershel asked. "You'd been living with us for, what, almost a month?" Daryl nodded and swallowed hard. He remembered it like it was yesterday. "You were angry. Probably the angriest I've ever seen a child, aside from Maggie and Beth when Beth's mama died. You tried to run off three times by then. I remember I took you into town. It was just the two of us. You saw that van for sale. How much was it, now?"

"Eight hundred," Daryl snorted. "Practically fell apart towing it home."

"Yeah. I remember. I got it, because when you saw it, you just lit up. I never saw you smile like that the whole time you were with us until that day. And you wanted to act like you didn't care about it. But I saw that gleam in your eye. The same gleam in your eye that you get when you're fixing up that old motorcycle." Hershel shook his head. "You turned into a fine mechanic in three years."

"Could put off college, open up my own garage here. I could still help out on the farm."

"If that's what you want. After you go to college." Daryl snorted. "Don't make that noise at me, son. You worked hard for those grades you got. You earned that diploma and those scholarships. Now you're going to use that to get yourself an education. Whatever you decide to do after that is on you. It's your life. You do what makes you happy. But humor an old vet and use the brains God gave you to open a few more doors. It's all I'm asking." He reached out and clasped Daryl's forearm, and Daryl clasped his right back.

"It's too big a gift with the money…I don't…"

"I won't hear another word on it," Hershel insisted. "Just remember there's a spot to park it in the barn every time you decide to come home."

"I know," Daryl said quietly.

"And maybe one of these days you'll finally get that pretty gal out here for us to meet." Daryl's heart skipped a beat, and Hershel beamed at him. Three years. He hadn't seen her face in three years, and God, he couldn't wait to wrap his arms around her.

"I will," Daryl promised.

"I imagine you'll be heading east first, hmm?" Daryl cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I know," Daryl explained. "I'm not. It's just…it's been three years. What if she doesn't…what if it's not the same?"

"I see you sitting there reading her letters with hearts in your eyes and a big cartoon grin. It's different being hours apart. Time changes a lot of things. But if it's real love, well, it'll stand the test. You're young. You were younger then. You've done a lot of growing in three years. I'm sure you both have. So now you just have to figure out if there's enough there to build something on."

"You got an answer for everything?" Daryl laughed.

"When you get to be as old as I am, you'll have a lot of answers, too. Maybe they aren't always the right answers, but they're yours anyway." He shrugged. "Maybe one of these you'll be standing in this barn with your own son having this same conversation." Daryl looked around. "It's yours, you know? It's yours and Maggie's and Beth's. I hope twenty years from now it still is." Daryl nodded once and cleared his throat.

"You sure about all of this? I could stick around, help with the farm 'til fall."

"I've got Otis. He's been helping me run this place since before Maggie was even thought of. We'll do just fine. Besides, I hear Maggie's been seeing a boy from school." At Daryl's quirked eyebrow, Hershel smiled. "Beth told me."

"'Course she did."

"Glenn, I hear? A transfer student from Michigan?"

"I ain't here to tell any stories." Daryl held his hands up. "You're gonna have to ask Maggie if you wanna know anything."

"Yeah, well, maybe we can break him in while you're gone. See if he's got what it takes."

"Take it easy on the kid. He's a city boy," Daryl pointed out.

"Yeah, well, we'll just have to see about that," Hershel murmured, running his hand over his white beard.

"Daryl! Daryl!" A pair of green eyes shaded by a mop of curly blonde hair peered into the barn before a gangly twelve-year-old came running in, her yellow sundress damp and splotched from mud from wading in the creek. She was huffing and puffing, and her red cheeks glistened with sweat. She waved an envelope in the air triumphantly. "Mail's….here!" She was still catching her breath when Daryl snatched the letter from his little sister's hand. "It's from your girlfriend." The emphasis on the word girlfriend followed by a childish giggle only emphasized how truly young Beth really was. She was still a kid, and Daryl was happy for her that she'd been able to have such a happy childhood. He only wished he'd been lucky enough to have grown up his whole life in this house. But on second thought, he never would have met Carol.

"Thanks, squirt," Daryl snorted. Beth made a face at him.

"Are you gonna kiss her?"

"None of your business," he muttered.

"Beth," Hershel sighed. "Go find your sister. Let her know we're going into town for supper."

"Why?" Beth asked.

"Because your brother's leaving in a few days, and I want us to go out as a family. We'll stop and play mini golf on the way home. Sound good?"

"Ok!" Beth chirped. "Can we get frozen yogurt, too, Daddy?"

"If there's time. Go on, now. Find your sister and go get yourself cleaned up." Beth hurried off toward the house, and Hershel glanced at Daryl who looked like he was ready to climb the walls. "I'll leave you to your letter. It's been a while since the last one." Daryl swallowed hard and nodded, watching Hershel walk out of the barn. He waited until he was sure he was gone before he settled down on a bale of hay, pulled a cigarette out of the crumpled pack in his pocket and opened the envelope. A sweet, citrusy smell rose up from the paper when he unfolded it, and he remembered it being the same kind she'd worn the last night they saw each other. She always spritzed a little of it on the page, and it always made him think back to that night.

He lit his cigarette and took a long drag, peering over his shoulder to make sure he didn't have an audience. He turned his attention back to the words scrawled in pretty penmanship across the page.

Daryl,

I know you're probably wondering why it's taken me so long to write you back. Things have gotten worse here, and I'm not sure how much more I can take. My dad found your letters, and things got really bad. I'll be so glad to see you again. I miss you more than you know.

I graduated. I wanted more than anything for you to come, but I knew if I asked you to, you would've come, and my dad would've had a fit. It's better this way. Soon, I'll be old enough to walk out and never look back. I think about us a lot. I think about a lot of things. Like when you poured your pudding cup in my hair in first grade. Or when you punched Rick Grimes in the nose for trying to kiss me by the tire swings. You were my best friend. My rock. You were my protector. I never felt safer than when I was with you. Even when we were just little kids.

When things get really bad, I think about you. I think about how the happiest I've ever felt was when I was with you. It's what I hold onto. I hope you think about me, too. I know you're coming to see me, and I'm so scared that everything will change. I'm afraid you won't feel the same way. Or maybe you'll fee more. I don't know what I'm more afraid of. It's strange. I haven't seen your face in three years. All I see when I think of you are those blue, blue eyes. Your quirky smile. I still feel the scars on your back under my hands. I wonder if you can still feel my scars, too?

I've changed. I'm sure you have, too. I don't always like who I see when I look in the mirror. But then I think of you, and I smile, and I feel like everything could be alright again.

I can't wait to see you. When you finally get this, I know we'll be that much closer to being together. I hope you'll be here on my birthday. Meet me at the post office in Danfield. I'll be waiting for you with my bags packed.

I love you,

Carol

He'd become so enthralled in the letter he hadn't noticed his cigarette had fallen into the hay at his feet. Wisps of smoke swirled up from the barn floor, and Daryl quickly stamped them out, dragging the toe of his boot across the ashes and watching them scatter on the breeze.

"Shit," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. His heart was pounding, and he felt like his gut was tied in a hundred knots.

Her birthday was in a week. In a week, there was nothing her father could do to keep her under his roof. In a week, they could be together again, and the years and distance between them would be all in the past.

He was sweating now, swallowing thickly as the thought of seeing her again swirled through his head. He had replayed their last night together in his head so many times. They'd been so young. They'd both found something in each other that nobody else they knew could quite relate to. It wasn't something they wanted to talk about. It was just something they recognized in each other. They were all they had, and it still meant everything to him.

They were grown now, two people from broken pasts that had managed to keep such an incredible bond even after fate—and Carol's dad—had separated them by almost six hundred miles. He'd carried around a lot of anger for a long time until he focused on the future. He'd focused on getting Carol out of that situation and starting over with her. He had a family now. Over the last three years he'd finally found out what it was like to have a father. It hadn't been easy. He'd pushed Hershel to the breaking point a time or two. But in the end, he'd come to understand his foster family was the family he'd needed all of his life. He felt guilty that Carol hadn't been so lucky. Hell, he almost wasn't that lucky. He only hoped that it wasn't too late for them to start over together. He hoped, at the end of the day, she'd still want that when they were finally together again.

He heard the front screen door squeal on its hinges and slam shut, breaking him from the desperate feeling coiling in his gut. He stuffed his letter back in the envelope and put it in the front pocket of his button down shirt. When he stepped out of the barn, he saw Beth leaning over the front porch rail staring off down the long gravel lane. A cloud of gravel dust announced company was coming, and it was unusual to get visitors at this time of day unless it was an emergency visit for Hershel's veterinary services.

"Someone's coming!" Beth announced aloud, to no one in particular. Daryl made his way up the side the house and waved Beth off.

"Go inside and get cleaned up, Beth. I'll see what they want." Beth sighed dramatically, her shoulders slouching. She had a flair for the dramatic, that one. She lingered a moment longer before turning on her heels and skulking back into the house.

The small blue sedan bobbed and jostled along the uneven drive, and as it came nearer, Daryl could see the sticker in the upper left hand of the windshield. RideShare. Daryl squinted at the sunlight gleaming off the tinted windows, wondering if maybe Maggie's boyfriend had used the online service to get a ride over to the place. But, Glenn had a car, so that didn't make any sense.

When the car pulled around the drive and stopped about ten yards from the house, Daryl watched the back passenger door swing open. Moments later, a flash of long, curly brown hair whipped around in the wind, and Carol Mason stepped out wearing a white sundress. She turned and said something softly to the driver, reached in for a duffel bag and shut the door. The driver followed the drive around an old oak tree and started off in the direction it had come, leaving Carol standing there in the dust, the skirt of her dress whipping up about her knees.

He took a step toward her, wondering if this were a dream. Of course it wasn't a dream. She'd changed. Her hair was longer. She was slender, and her eyes held a weariness that broke his heart. But when she looked at him, she was smiling, and when he took one more step toward her, she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face against his neck. He could feel the warmth of her tears against his skin, and he closed his eyes, feeling her shaking as the emotions took over.

"I couldn't take it anymore," she choked out. "I had to see you. Is this ok?"

"You're here," he murmured, hugging her tighter to him. "I can't believe you're really here." In that moment, it was as if time had stood still. Everything crashed into him at once, and for the first time in his entire life, he was certain he'd never been happier.