Emerald Kitten- I'm glad you like him. :) So far, I'm enjoying Baby Dixon, so hopefully there will be lots more of him to come. Thank you!
spygrrl99- I always imagined Daryl would be a sweetie if he got the chance to be a dad.
JackAndHoney- Thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying. I debated putting Mingus in there as a name Carol wanted, but decided she would have wanted to use T-Dog's name instead.
Supfan- Excellent! I love bringing smiles to people's faces. :)
crystal2817- Thank you! I'm so glad.
deelove1- Thank you. :)
HGRHfan35- Adorable Daryl and Baby Dixon are my favorite duo. I'm glad I was able to pull off the cuteness.
itsi3- I'm very glad, and I hope you will continue to do so.
Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and such! I appreciate it so much, and I'm so, so glad that you're enjoying this so far! I hope you'll like this one just as much, you beautiful, beautiful people.
- Gabby
2. New
February was cold and wet three years after hell came to earth. The group had moved from the quarry, to the CDC, to the farm, to the prison, and finally to the small, ghost town that they had secured after being on the road for what seemed like an eternity. Walled off, the small collection of buildings was closed off from the walkers that were begging to get in and take a bite out of each and every one of them. They were safe now, though. Months had gone by without a breach of the wall they had built, and it was something they were proud of even if Merle ran his mouth about how their town was going to end the same way Woodbury did, which usually garnered the response: "Shut up, jackass."
On a particularly cold evening, the Dixon brothers had taken watch, standing atop the wall with weapons in hand. Watching the pair, you'd think they barely knew or even liked each other, hardly giving one another even a passing glance. That was on a normal Dixon watch. This particular watch, though, had the brothers standing very close to each other, the younger looking rather rigid while the older placed a hand on his shoulder. "Little brother, you need to lighten up a little." The taunting smile that played on Merle's lips made him squirm on the inside. "Everything's gonna be just fine. This's just how things like this go. Ain't nothin' for you t'be worryin' 'bout."
Daryl yanked his shoulder out of the grasp of his older brother. "Get offa' me, and quit tellin' me I ain't got nothin' to worry about. I got plenty'a things ta' worry about, and I'll worry about 'em if I wanna, jackoff." Bite was evident in his voice; an element usually not present when he spoke to his brother. He pulled the colorful poncho he was wearing tighter around him. As darkness had claimed the land that day, snow began to fall in heavy flakes onto the earth, covering everything in a white, glistening powder. "'Sides you'd be just as nervous. If you say you wouldn't be, you's a damn liar and an asshole t'boot. You're lucky they've let ya' stay this long."
Snorting and turning in the opposite direction of his little brother, Merle scanned the white, wooded area before them. Both of the Dixons had their qualms about the subject, but he figured he would be the one to point it out for the younger brother and not have it thrown back into his face. Having had the childhood they did, it was unlikely they would come out unscathed. "Ya' ain't gonna be like 'im, Daryl," he sighed as he shifted his weight from his one foot to the other. "Yer too good t'be like Daddy. Got a good heart, kid, not like Daddy. Not like him at all." With his gun tucked under his bum arm, he placed his good hand back on Daryl's shoulder. "You were always the sweeter one, little brother. Nicer, better'n me or Daddy. A better man'n most people I ever met."
There was nothing daryl could say in response, but their matching steely blue eyes caught each other in a long stare. No words needed to be exchanged between the two. A moment of silence was all they required to communicate anything that needed to be said on the topic. The silence of the blizzard enveloped them, not a crunch on the newly fallen snow. Between the brothers, there had never been too many quiet, intimate moments. Their father did not allow for those to happen frequently, but when they did happen, neither one of the brothers seemed as rough or hostile as they did normally.
"Daryl." Both Dixons snapped their heads in the direction of a voice that had crept up on them. The farmer's daughter stood there with a heavy sweater wrapped around her frame and a gun in her hand. "You should head into the house. She's been askin' for ya'." The woman turned her green-eyed attention to the older Dixon. "Rick should be out in a few minutes to relieve you, Merle." Squeezing by Daryl as they made their way to switch spots on the wall, she gave him a warm smile and a quick pat on the shoulder. "Everything went fine. There's nothing you need to worry about."
She did not know what he did and did not new to worry about. He stomped away toward the building he had left hours beforehand, leaving boot tracks in place of Maggie's in the accumulating snow. The crunch of the fluffy snow was soft beneath the soles of his shoes, so he decided to focus his thoughts on that. The squish of the cold substance under his feet filled his brain. Squish. Crunch. Squeak. Rubber and icy water collided with each step until he reached the door of the brick building where he stood for a good minute before he grabbed the doorknob. "Nothing to worry about," he told himself, staring at his breath that condensed in the air in front of him. "Sounds like a big crock o' bullshit."
The soles of his shoes squeaked on the tiled floor that covered an off white hallway that led to a slightly cracked door. Orange light leaked from the opening in it, most likely emanating from the fireplace in the room. Once he entered, his life would be changed, and he would have two options: be a man or run like a boy. At that moment, he wasn't sure what choice he was going to make.
Pushing the door open, he heard the soft grunts of a small child, similar to those of Lil' Asskicker when she was a baby. In the corner, there was a pile of stained bed sheets rolled and folded into a messy mound. The one-legged, old man leaned on his crutch next to the fireplace, speaking happily in hushed tones to the sheriff. His kind eyes peered over to the Dixon in the doorway, and then he motioned in the direction of the bed on to opposite wall. Taking his eyes from the glow of the fire, the sheriff nodded in acknowledgement with a small congratulatory smile gracing his lips.
A woman snuggled into a large pile of blankets on the far side of the bed, whispering to a bundle in her arms. Her short hair was plastered to her face from an agonizing sweat while a mixture of exhaustion and happiness filled her eyes. "I think someone's here to see you, baby Dixon." One of her close-lipped, curved smiles spread across her features. A joyous glow seemed to radiate off of her despite her obvious fatigue. Her crystal blue eyes drifted to him without the smile leaving her lips. "He's so beautiful."
He: the word echoed in his mind. It was a boy. He shouldn't have expected anything other than a boy. Dixons didn't make them any other way. At the same time, the thought of having a boy scared him shitless. His daddy had boys, Merle and Daryl, and he saw how far that got them. Their daddy and their mama were both deadbeats. Neither did much right by the boys, beating and neglecting them in drunken stupors more often than not. "You wanna meet your daddy, lil' man?" Before he had a chance to protest, she was holding the tiny, blanketed bundle towards him. "He isn't going to bite you, Daryl. Doesn't even have any teeth to do that yet, so c'mon."
Obediently, he slid into the space next to the bed, holding his nervously shaking arms out to receive the child. A part of him did not want to hold the child; he wanted to save the kid the grief of having a shit head for a father. The little boy seemed so much lighter than the Grimes girl had, so much more fragile. The tiny torso of the baby could not have been much larger than the span of his hand. Propping the little boy's head up, he stared at the face that was intently studying his own. Round, red cheeks and rosy puckered lips sat below the most perfect blue eyes, his mama's eyes. The orbs were wide and curious, staring down the man's every move as he was held. Tufts of wispy, light blonde hair were starting to stick out in odd directions. Even in the flickering shadows of the fire, he could tell that the boy's mama was right when she said he was beautiful.
"Came out silent," she yawned, cuddling into the mountain of pillows behind her. "Hershel had to give him a hell of a spank to even get him to squeak, but we had to make sure he was okay. He's barely made a peep since." As he carefully sat down on the bed and toed off his boots, a hand ran down his back. "Destined to be a quiet and sneaky little bastard, I think." Her comment make the corners of his lips curl upwards only a little bit. Settling into the bed with her, he felt her body curl into his side. He barely even felt her do it, being too wrapped up in the presence of the child in his arms. "Just like his daddy."
Daddy. He had a lot of names over the years: Daryl, asshole, failure, little brother, pussy. Daddy was never one he thought he would have. In fact, he swore to himself he would do his best to save any little bastard from having to call him that, yet here he was. Daddy. "Damn right, he will be," he replied in a gravely whisper. "Quiet like a hunter with his mama's eyes." A chuckle came from her before another yawn escaped her lips. She muttered something about going to sleep and waking her up when he needed to be fed, so he simply nodded. As she dozed off, she could have sworn she heard him say: "You're lucky, kid. Ya' look like yer mama and not yer ugly as sin pa." Smiling, she let the silence of the snowstorm take over again; the cracks of the fire, soft coos of the baby, and the occasional whisper from Daryl being the only noises filling the room. In that moment, everything was good and right.