It Matters to Me Chapter 2, a walking dead fanfic

A/N Thank you for your comments, the follows and favors, and for just stopping by to read. In this chapter we're going to find out a little about Daryl, Mick and Merle. We'll also get Daryl's POV about that first encounter with Beth, and they'll meet again later in the chapter.

I hope you enjoy!

Since he'd been a small boy it had been his way to keep a close eye on his surroundings. Merle used to say his brother could spot an ant carrying a grain of sugar a 100 yards off. Daryl was far more modest about his skills than that, but it was the one thing he'd admit to being good at. Nothing much got passed him.

That innate ability to take in and assess his surroundings was one of the reasons he spotted the young woman as soon as she walked in the library. The reason he kept observing her was because he just couldn't seem to stop himself.

From behind all he could tell was that she was small and slim with blonde curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the hair looked soft and silky. When she walked away from the librarian's counter and toward the fiction section he got a far better look. He saw just what a beauty she was. She had pale skin that reminded him of fresh cream. Some of her curls had worked loose from her ponytail and now framed her slim face. She was smiling as she walked and the smile appeared to be genuine and happy, it was even present in her sparkling blue eyes.

She was a beauty alright.

She was dressed for the hot weather in a crisp white sleeveless blouse tucked into pale pink capris. She wore the blouse buttoned clear up to her neck and that told him she was modest. Even her footwear was modest and practical. Instead of heels she wore a pair of white flats.

He didn't know her and yet he felt it strongly, she was a good person, kind. Why did he feel that? He didn't know. He only knew that he was sure he was right.

Even though he was busy helping Mick with the book he could see what the woman was up to in his peripheral vision. He hadn't missed how she suddenly stopped mid-step and just stood there, staring at him and his girl. Normally something like that would have put him on edge. He didn't like to be judged and he damn sure wouldn't put up with anyone judging Mick. It didn't seem that way coming from her though. He wondered what the hell the staring was all about.

He knew what his normal reaction to that sort of thing would have been. If she wasn't so pretty and innocent looking he'd have gotten up, walked right over to her and snarled his question, "what the fuck ya think you're lookin' at?" He kind of wanted to do that anyway because for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. But if he was ever really going to ask her anything, he'd be asking in a much nicer fashion.

As if it all weren't strange enough, he was really floored when Mick looked up and said "Hi" to the woman. His girl was timid around people she didn't know. Speaking out to someone the way she had, that wasn't like Mick at all. As soon as he'd gotten after her the woman hurried away. Daryl figured that was that, he would never see the pretty blonde again.

For some reason that made his heart feel heavy.

It turned out he thought wrong. The young blonde woman stood right behind him and Mick when they were checking their books out. He could tell she was trying to see what he was reading and he wondered why the hell she would care.

Then damn if Mick didn't speak to her again. Shit, he had no choice but to apologize.

He turned to the pretty young woman. She was so close and she looked so nervous and shy. He was so damn nervous it was all he could do to speak to her. He was sure he probably sounded like an idiot but he didn't really know what to say except, "Sorry Miss." Yeah, that probably impressed her to no end. Fuck it, why should he care what she thought.

Except for the part about how damn pretty she was and how she looked so sweet and kind. Then he asked himself the cold hard question, you think a woman like her would be interested in a man like you? Besides, he couldn't be dating anyone. There were a couple of real good reasons for that. One, he didn't know the first thing about women like her and how a man would ask her out, but most important, he had Mick.

He had to give his attention to raising his girl. Doing right by Mick was the most important thing to him. He didn't just love his girl, he owed it to her to be the best Daddy he knew how to be. He just wished he knew more about how that was done.

What he did know was, he was the person responsible for bringing her into this world and he aimed to do his best to raise her right. If he never did anything else, he was determined she'd know she was good and smart, and most of all she'd know he loved her. Those were all things no one had ever said to, or about him when he was growing up.

When they left the library he took the storybook from Mick, stuck his big hand under her little arm and asked, "Ready?"

"Ready Daddy." In one strong move he hoisted the child up and Mick knew the routine. She swung one leg around him and just like that she was perched on his shoulders. "Hang on now Mick."

She giggled, "I am, I'ma hang onta yer ears."

He let out a snort, "Yeah well don't pull em off. I might need em."

She leaned down and wrapped her small arms around his neck, rested her cheek against his and said, "Yer the silliest Daddy."

"You're the silliest girl." And that was his opening, "Speakin' of you bein' silly, what was the big idea a you speakin' ta that woman in the library, not once, but twice? Huh?"

"Cuz she's real nice girl Daddy."

"How would ya know that when ya don't even know her?"

"I just do Daddy. You say it all the time, the signs are all there."

He turned 17 on November 30,1941, and on December, 7, 1941 the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. He didn't even think about it. He headed to the closest recruiting office, lined up with a few hundred other guys and joined the United States Army.

Being a soldier was the first time Daryl Dixon could recall feeling like he belonged. He was part of a group and he had a purpose in life. An important purpose. All the guys he served with were on the same side and counting on each other.

It didn't matter where a man came from or what his family might be like. No one cared about how much money you had in your pocket or the kind of car you drove. No one knew or cared if you had a fancy education. There wasn't time to worry about bullshit like that.

He thought seriously about staying in the army when the war ended, maybe making the military a career. Then Merle got badly wounded and that made Daryl think he ought to try and stay close to his only family, and Merle was it. The only family he had.

It wasn't but a year or so after Merle got home that Daryl received a short note from his brother. Merle asked him if when he got out, he'd come home and work in the new business with him. He said he really needed Daryl's help.

Daryl didn't have any other plan about how he'd support himself when Uncle Sam was done with him, so he decided to at least see about it.

It took a long time for the government to bring the servicemen home when the war ended. Military men and their waiting families were frustrated. Daryl was one of the lucky ones. He was one of the first group of servicemen discharged in 1945, but it took a while for the government to figure out how to get all those troops back home. He was finally given transport in the fall of 1946.

The plan was that he would stay at Merle's place until he got something of his own. That first day back on Georgia soil, right after he got down on his knees and kissed the ground he'd been willing to give his life for, he headed to his brother's.

He had every intention of going straight there. He didn't make it any farther than a Roadhouse on the outskirts of Smithton.

He only meant to have a beer or two. He sure as hell didn't mean to get as shitfaced drunk as he did, but damn, it'd been a long time since he had that kind of freedom. The ability to just go out and do what he felt like doing and relax. Not worrying about a bullet, a grenade or a bomb. He had a lot of steam built up.

He also hadn't been with a girl in a long damn time, and this one particular girl made it real clear she wouldn't mind things going that way. She was drunk, he was drunk and later he'd be angry with himself for doing what he did. He saw the signs. He should have backed away from her, but he ignored the signs. He was only thinking about having a little fun, and that night he wound up at her place.

Afterward, he could barely remember any of it, but what he remembered didn't make him feel proud. He felt mostly shame and plenty of embarrassment when he woke up in the bed with her.

That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part happened just as Daryl got his pants up and buttoned. A little boy about three came walking in the room, sleepily asking, "Mama?"

Daryl wanted to die on the spot, almost as bad as he wanted to get the fuck out of there. He apologized to the woman who said, "Don't worry about it, just get your ass out. Ya weren't supposed to stay."

He slipped the little boy 50 cents for candy, because he didn't know what the hell else to do, grabbed his shirt and his shoes and got the fuck out of there as fast as he could.

He finally got to his brother's, promising himself all the way there it was the last time shit like that would ever happen. And it was.

Merle joined the U.S. Navy when the war began. He served on a destroyer in the Pacific fleet and like his brother, Merle possessed certain talents. They were different than Daryl's, some bordered on self-destructive, others were quite beneficial. One that turned out to be beneficial was his poker playing skill.

Merle turned his three years aboard the destroyer into a time when he didn't just fight for his country. He also managed to make quite a bit of money. He was a damn fine card player and he won a lot of cash off his shipmates playing five card stud.

What got him home early was a torpedo from a Japanese sub. After the torpedo hit, Merle and his shipmates fought hard to close the heavy compartment doors in an effort to keep the destroyer from taking on water and sinking. When the ship suddenly listed hard to starboard Merle's right hand was caught in a slamming metal hatch.

There was no time to waste, his arm was amputated in the ship's infirmary, just below the right elbow. As soon as it was possible to transport him he was sent to a field hospital. When the wound began to heal, he was fitted with a prosthetic and as soon as the occupational therapist taught him how to use the hook, he was honorably discharged.

When he officially left the Navy Merle took with him all the money he'd made during his years of duty, money for the loss of a limb and the money he made gambling. He would also receive a disability check from the VA equal to 90% of his military pay each month for the rest of his life.

He'd rather have his right hand than any of the money, but he'd seen enough men die to be grateful he was one of the ones who got home alive.

That's not to say he didn't have his bitter and angry moments, and his drunken, bitter and angry moments. But when he was sober and thinking clearly, he knew he needed to find something he could do. If he didn't he'd likely go crazy sitting around drinking beer and dwelling on the war and his injury.

He found his new career when he drove by a filling station at the edge of town with a big for sale sign. He took a look. It was good size business. There were four pumps and a small building that housed a counter with the cash register, maps for sale, and a rack of cigarettes and chewing tobacco. There was also a small office area consisting of a desk, a chair and a file cabinet, a soda pop machine and an ice cream cooler. Men's and women's restrooms were around the back.

There was a mechanics bay in an adjacent building, a one man set-up, complete and ready to go. Tools, a lift, all of it was included in the sale. One bay would be plenty. Merle himself was no mechanic and even if he had been at one time, the loss of his hand would have screwed that all up. It didn't matter anyway, he knew a topnotch mechanic.

There was one final structure about twenty yards behind the shop. It was a rundown little house that looked like no one had lived in it for years. It was of no interest to Merle.

He closed the deal with a plan in his mind. He'd ask his brother to partner with him when he mustered out. It would be perfect, he'd be pumping fuel and checking oil and Daryl would be working in the garage.

When Daryl arrived at his brother's apartment in town Merle told him the deal, and then he sweetened the pot. He clapped Daryl on the back and said, "I'll sell ya half the business, you can pay me on time if ya need to. We'll be partners brother."

"There's a little rundown house out back, I can't do nuthin' with it. I don't want to really. But you, you can fix that up, make it your own place. Shit, little brother, you'll have it made." Then he got honest, "I need ya brother."

It didn't take Daryl long to decide, "Yeah, okay I'll do it, as long as ya don't try'n act like you're my boss. It's an even deal, 50/50 right?"

"Right. Ya run the mechanic side and I'll run the service station side and we'll help each other out, work together." He smiled, "C'mon now kid, ya got a better knack for fixin' shit than anyone I ever seen. Ya ain't gonna find nuthin' ya like doin' any better."

"Yeah, I know. Ya got a deal. But I got sumthin' I gotta do first." He breathed in and seemed to shudder at the thought, "I promised a buddy a mine from down in Florida I'd call on his Mama and his wife. I got letters for each of em."

Merle didn't have to ask what it meant. It was what guys did during the war. They wrote letters to the people they loved in case they didn't make it home. They gave the letters to a buddy they trusted, a guy who promised to deliver them if need be.

Daryl put his dress uniform on for the last time and made the trip down to Pensacola to deliver the letters. He had tea and cookies with his buddy's Mama and listened politely while she tearfully read the letter and told him stories about her boy. His heart hurt and he wished he could be anywhere else, but he owed his fellow soldier this. He was the lucky one to be there with the guy's Mama.

It was worse when he called on his buddy's young wife. She had a little girl who was holding tightly to her doll, rocking back and forth while she watched her Mama cry. He stayed as long as he thought he was supposed to. When he left he gave the young widow all the money he had on him, except what he needed for gas to get home.

Besides being glad he'd done the right thing, Daryl felt something else. That was it, the war was officially behind him and his life could begin.

The brothers got the filling station and garage all spruced up with new paint on the buildings and a new sign out front, Dixon's Fuel and Auto Repair. Daryl cleaned the bay, cleaned and organized the tools and the Dixon brothers went to work.

Right from the start Daryl's reputation as a guy who did good reliable work at a fair price began to spread.

As for the fuel, they kept their price a quarter of a cent less than the other stations in town. It seemed like folks didn't care how far they had to drive if they saved a couple of pennies.

Evenings Daryl worked on the little house, and it was plenty of work. The first thing he did was take the pickup and the trash trailer and make three trips to the dump. Next he worked on the plumbing, then the electric, and then he got down to making it livable.

He just about had it in shape, and Merle stepped in and helped with what he could. While Daryl did the finish work his brother took care of the painting, and in true Merle fashion he even joked, "Just takes one hand for a nice even stroke."

Daryl laughed, shook his head and went on about what he was doing. The place came together real well and he moved in the little house for good, happy to finally have a home of his own.

One day not long after he moved the woman showed up at the garage, carrying a tiny baby and looking for him. She'd gone to the office first and Merle could smell the booze on her when she asked if there was a Daryl Dixon working there. Being Merle he asked back, "Who wants ta know?"

She held the baby out as if she were going to give it to him and said, "The mother of his bastard."

That shocked Merle to his core. First and foremost was that the woman would talk about her baby in that way. It sounded like something his asshole of an old man would have said. Even more shocking was that his little brother had fathered a child.

He put on a damn good act though, shrugging like it was all just nothing when he said, "Yeah, I'll go get him."

Merle told his brother what the woman claimed as they walked back to the office. He could see Daryl was in a state of shock even deeper than his own. Merle stayed close, waiting out by the pumps while his brother talked to the woman.

Daryl walked in the office and he recognized her right away. The other thing he noticed was, even though it was only ten in the morning she reeked of booze. For some reason the first words he thought to speak were, "Where's your boy?"

"That little snot-nosed brat? Shit, I'm clear of him, he's livin' with my ex's folks. Thank God for that."

Daryl couldn't agree more. Thank God for that.

"I don't want this kid a yours either and if you don't want her I aim ta take care of that too. I'll leave her out front a the Baptist church tonight when no one's around."

Daryl couldn't believe his eyes or his ears. He questioned if he'd heard right. Did she mean what he thought she meant? He wasn't sure he could even say the words, but he asked, "Ya mean ta say you're just gonna walk away and leave a little baby on her own?"

"Hell yes I am. Someone will come along."

He wouldn't let that happen. He didn't know where the next words came from, he only knew how much money he still had saved from his military pay. "Ya leave her with me. I'll give ya $200.00 if ya promise on a piece a paper ya ain't comin' back for her."

"I want the money today."

"I'll give ya the money, right after ya promise on a piece a paper." He didn't think it'd probably be worth the paper it was written on as far as the law was concerned, but it was something.

She practically shoved the baby in his arms, signed the paper and got cocky with him, "You're gonna find out it ain't no fun at all raisin' a kid. Then you'll be the one tryin' ta give it away and I ain't takin' it back."

She hurried toward the door, stopped, pulled a paper out of her purse, gave it to him, and rushed out, slamming the door behind her as she left. She jumped in an old Buick and went tearing out of the lot, right in front of a highway truck speeding down the road.

It was a devastating crash, the noise was like a bomb had exploded. Daryl knew that sound all too well and there was nothing he could do but stand there watching in disbelief as flames engulfed the Buick, unable to move except to pull the baby closer. That's when it fully hit him. She was his daughter and he had to protect her.

He also knew that was just fine by him.

He looked down at that tiny face and he couldn't take his eyes off her. He could tell by looking at his fuzzy headed, red and wrinkly little baby, she was a fighter. A survivor. She had to have been. He agonized some over whether he was fit to be a Daddy. He wanted to be the kind of father to this tiny one he'd never had. His own father had been mean; his words cutting as deep as the lashes from his belt.

Daryl whispered to the little girl, promising he'd be everything to her except the kind of father his own father had been. He vowed she would know love and that no matter what happened, she'd always be able to trust him to care for her and to never, ever raise his hand to her.

In the meantime Merle had taken charge. He called the police and then rushed over to his brother, laid a hand on Daryl's shoulder and in a worried tone he asked, "The fuck's goin' on little brother?"

Daryl told him and handed his brother the piece of paper the woman had given him. Merle read it over, it was the birth certificate. The baby was one week old. "Shit, I'm pretty sure she ain't even s'pose ta be outside yet."

Then Merle asked the inevitable question, "How do ya even know she's yours brother?"

"The timin's right and I got a feelin'."

"You n your feelins n your signs. Ya go on now, before anyone gets here. Get on back ta your house and stay there til I come."

Daryl was too dazed to argue about any of it.

No sooner was he out of sight than the cops, a fire truck and an ambulance all showed up. Merle put the closed sign out and told the cop what he'd seen. He didn't lie, but he was about a half a mile south of the whole truth when he said, "Some gal come stormin' in here, she smelled like she'd been drinkin'. She said she was lookin' for someone and then just like that she was burnin' rubber on her way outta the lot."

The cop didn't question much, the man telling him the story was a vet.

It was an hour before Merle could get to the little house and check on his brother. The baby's clothes were off and she was wrapped in a towel, "I ain't got diapers and such, and I ain't gonna have nuthin' ta feed her."

"How much do ya s'pose she weighs?"

"Five n a half, six pounds tops."

"Alright, I'll head over ta Sears, be back in a shake."

Merle showed back up with a cheap bassinet, a package of diapers, diaper pins, rubber pants, three gowns, baby bottles and a bottle sterilizer. He'd stopped at the market and gotten evaporated milk and Karo syrup to make formula. "The lady at the store told me how we're gonna make this stuff. We'll figure out what else we need tomorrow. Tonight we talk ta Karen."

Karen lived in the same small apartment building as Merle and they'd been keeping company on a regular basis. She happened to be the county attorney's secretary. Merle figured she could get them some legal advice.

They didn't just get some legal advice. The county attorney himself took an interest, the young man was a vet willing and able to care for his child. There was some legal wrangling, there was some changes made to records, some money changed hands and the birth certificate was adjusted. Mother: Deceased, Father: Daryl Lee Dixon.

It was official, Mick was his and he was Micks.

It hadn't occurred to Beth it would still be mostly dark when she walked to work in the morning. Thankfully she had a flashlight she kept handy for power failures and she carried it with her as she walked. It was still plenty scary though. She worried and wondered what sorts of people she might come across at that hour of the morning. Or the night if you looked at it that way.

She hurried along and was relieved to get to the diner and off the dark streets. She soon forgot all about how scared she'd been as Jim showed her how the coffee maker worked. He went over how she should call the orders to him, what to write on the pad and what her side work was. Best of all, since she didn't drink coffee he told her to go ahead and have herself a mug of hot chocolate.

When it was time for Jim to unlock the door and put the open sign out at five a.m., Beth was feeling confident and looking forward to getting started in her new position.

The morning started off slow and that was good. It gave her time to get accustomed to things and for her and Jim to begin getting use to working together.

It was about 6:30am, she was getting water for one of the tables when she looked up and nearly gasped out loud. It was the man named Daryl and his little girl Mick. They were on the corner across the street, walking in her direction. Well Mick wasn't exactly walking. She was riding on her Daddy's shoulders, her little hands on his forehead and his hands wrapped around her ankles.

He ducked down as they came in the door and Beth felt her tummy do a flip at the sight of him, just before Mick let out a little squeal, "It's you! Hi!"

Her Daddy took a muscled arm, helped the little girl down off his shoulders, looked at Beth and nodded, "Miss."

A/N Now we know the backstory, but we'll learn more about the early years of Daryl and Mick later. We also know Daryl noticed Beth every bit as much as she noticed him :) Please leave a comment / review. If you'd like to see the chapter photo it's on my tumblr blogs gneebee and bethylmethbrick. I'll be back next Friday with another chapter of It Matters to Me and we'll find out what happens over breakfast, and beyond. Until then remember, I love ya large! xo gneebee