crystal2817- I felt bad doing that to poor Baby Dixon. He certainly didn't deserve something like that. :(

HGRHfan35- Oh yeah, she did. BADASS MAMA CAROL TO THE RESCUE, PROTECTIN' HER BABEH! Merle and Cyrus were outside of Merle's home, and everyone heard the poor thing screaming. Oh no, don't cry! I don't mean to bring the sads! D:

supfan- Thank you! Baby Dixon is my current love. :3 Glad you're enjoying.

Tell me you're still you- I think it was a combination of the two. He probably had some residual jealousy towards both Carol and Cyrus, who essentially tore his brother's attention from him.

spygrrl99- I could imagine Merle getting to be a really nasty guy if you managed to get him drunk enough. Judging by his attachment to Daryl, I can't even begin to describe the resentment he would have towards his brother having someone more important than him in his life. No, Carol didn't kill him. I imagined she shot him in the shoulder or leg just to wound him enough to get him off of her baby. I haven't decided Merle's fate yet. We'll just have to wait and see. :D

GuiltyBystanders- I don't know about poor wounded Merle. He became prince of the douchebag's there, I think. Thank you so much, and I do apologize for bringing the sad feelings.

libfulknot- Carol was laying down the law. She wasn't going to stand for another one of her children getting beat up.

crazstiz- Oh my goodness, that would have been awesome. Maybe I can arrange something for a future chapter. I love writing Jude's character almost as much as Cyrus. I just picture her being such a little imp.

BlueJean452- Thank you so much! :)

I'm sorry this update has taken so long to get up. Life in the real world has been crazy, so I haven't really had too much time to be writing. Spring break is coming, which should grant me a lot of time to write. ALSO, can we talk about sassy Carol being sassy in this Sunday's new episode? I'm so excited!

Thank you so much as always for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and all that jazz! It means so much to me that you guys are enjoying my little baby of a story so much. :) I hope you all like this bit just as much, though it doesn't give a Merle resolution, which I apologize for.

-Gabby

6. Cherish

Spring always brought the prettiest sunrises. At least, Baby Dixon thought this was the case. Summer had the sunset card in the bag, but spring took the cake with sunrises. The older members of the group always described the sunrises they would see as being the color of sherbet or orange creamsicles, leaving the two youngest to wonder about what kind of food could have possibly existed in the old world. Anything that took on the pastel colors of the morning sky could not have been too good for a person to consume, they decided. Once he was old enough, Baby Dixon was often put on watch from dawn, after his daddy came in from his own shift, until mid-morning when he switched out with the older, Russian man they had allowed to join in their shelter among many more.

Most days, he was put on watch with Asskicker, which he never seemed to mind. Approaching eighteen-years-old, he had taken to her previous advances. The nervousness flops his stomach did whenever she was around had taken some getting used to, but he was managing. "You're an odd boy, Cyrus Dixon," she would say quietly with eyes trained on the sun that was peeking over the horizon. He was never sure what exactly she meant by that, so he generally gave his daddy's signature grunt as a response. Like him, she was tall and lean with legs that seemed to go on for days, dangling over the side of the wall. She was a spitting image of her own mama, hair falling in dark, loose curls down her back and wide, hazel eyes always examining everything that fell under their gaze.

Unlike Asskicker, he was always being told he had his mama's eyes and his daddy's ears and his mama's nose and his daddy's lips. Most of the time he wished he only looked like one of the two. It would cut down on the time it took to decide if people were correct in their connections between his appearance and those of his parents. "All that thinkin' is gonna make your head explode, B.D.," commented Asskicker as she pulled her legs up to her chest. Giving her a sideways glance, he took a mental snapshot of how she looked in the pale, orange light of the morning sun. "Lookin' at me for too long'll do the same thing." Through narrowed eyes, he watched her turn to him with a cheeky grin plastered on her face. "Stop it now. I know you're all sweet on me and everything, but that doesn't give you an excuse to let your head go and explode." Quickly, he turned away, hoping that the warm color of the rising sun hid the red that was creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. "Well, it seems I've finally mastered the art of making a Dixon blush. I'll be damned." Every part of his brain wanted to spew out every cuss he knew, but he refrained. Instead, he turned his body away from her. "Y'know, I'm just kidding, Cy."

His eyes drifted back over his shoulder, where she was looking out into the distance again. "I know," he muttered, turning his face away from her again. Her long fingers rested on the center of his back and made a trail down his spine even though he tensed at her touch. "Just have a lot on my mind right now, y'know?" Scooting away from her only the slightest bit, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. For weeks, they had been having the same sort of interaction, not that her running her mouth and him staying silent was entirely uncommon. "Sorry if I've been actin' like an ass. I've been worried about my ma, y'know? I feel bad complainin' 'bout it, too, 'cause what happened to yours." He glanced back once again, their eyes meeting this time. A strange mix of sadness and understanding brewed in her stare as she forced a small nod.

Weeks prior, his mother had been tending to one of the newcomers who had seemed to come down with a ferocious cold. After the farmer passed on, she had taken on the duties of the doctor, and she was damn good at it, as his daddy would say. The job suited her; she always wanted to help every person she could and this enabled her to do so. Nearly a week after helping the sick man, she had collapsed on her way to bed. Unexpected to everyone, she had fallen deathly ill, confining her to bed rest for weeks. A fever hit her in waves, coughs wracking her body when it was low and shivers filling her being when it spiked. Most in town were concerned given her age, which had to be approaching, if not already hitting, sixty. Had it been the world before the dead rose, the worry would have been less, but the combination of age and the extent of her illness did not have anyone getting their hopes up. His daddy, who spent most of his time at her bedside, was even preparing for the worst. "Miracle she's lasted this long," the man had mumbled one day while she was asleep.

Asskicker let her legs dangle off the side of the wall once again, the backs of her worn canvas sneakers bumping against the metal. She scooted toward him slowly at first to test the water and then closed the gap between them, so her shoulder was brushing the back of his own. "Cy, you don't always have to keep things to yourself. You know that, right?" Without another word, she rested her chin atop his shoulder, their cheeks just barely touching one another with every slight movement. "Y'know, you let me run my mouth so damn much, so it's only fair that you tell me what's on your mind. 'Sides, you know your ma has been like a mother t'me. It wouldn't hurt me none to hear about what you're worrying about, right? I haven't been able to learn how to read what's goin' on in that busy, lil' mind of yours, Baby Dixon." Grumbling to himself, he leaned his head up against his companion's and only smiled when he heard her breath catch in her throat at the unexpected initiation of contact on his part.

From a window above, his daddy looked on at the scene on the wall, glaring down at the teenagers. "Damn kids are gonna get us killed if they don't start actually watchin' on their watch duty," he grunted before squeezing his eyes shut. His forefinger and thumb rose to the closed lids and pressed in against his eyeballs, willing away the blazing headache that was in its beginning stages. The room he was in was quiet and mostly dark except for the soft, but labored breaths coming from the opposite side of the room and the pale, orange light that was pouring through the crack in the curtains. "Boy's gotta get his head on right. Not gonna let him…" his words trailed off into a few stray grunts. There was no doubt in his mind that he was being unreasonable regarding his son. The weight of everything seemed to be sitting on his shoulders at that moment, though, and the last thing they needed was for a herd to pass by without proper watch being taken.

"You're being too hard on him, Daryl," a voice croaked from behind him. Startled, he turned to see his woman not in her bed, but rather, beside it, pulling the comforter and sheets up above the pillow her head had been laying on. "And before you say anything, I need to get out of that damn bed before I forget how to walk around. I won't go out yet if that'll help you keep your sanity, but you should know that I'm having some serious cabin fever." A small quirk of her lips came across her features, his mouth bobbing up and down like a fish's as he searched for words. She had barely talked in weeks, let alone gotten out of bed. "I understand I must be ravishing right now, but I hear greasy hair was last year's trend. I'm a little behind the times, so I have to apologize for that. It has been quite a few twenty-ninth birthday for me. I think I might be approaching thirty soon. Dear lord, thirty will be such a ghastly age."

The man was still without words as the woman, so thin and frail, slowly made her way over to him, bumping her shoulder into his own when she finally reached him. Her shining, blue eyes stared up at him with a look he had seen before, but not from her. Lines from age and stress graced her pixie's face, and crow's feet seemed to creep from the corners of her eyes. There was a certain wisdom in her features that had only come within the few years prior; age suited her. He had seen the same sort of look in the old farmer's all-knowing eyes. At the same time, she still managed to keep a sense of spunk about her that had been shut away for so many years before he knew her. One of her eyebrows, which were slightly darker than the wispy, short, white hairs that flicked out in all directions from her head, raised as he examined her aged face. The realization that he had not said a word to her since she miraculously rose from what he assumed to her death bed suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. Searching his mind in desperation for the right thing to say, he chose the first word that came to his mouth: "Hey." He mentally smacked himself for lacking any sort of way with words.

Down at the wall, the young Dixon had leaned back onto the balls of his hands that were stretched out behind him and propping him up, the sheriff's daughter curling into the side of his lean body. "Your mama's a strong lady," Asskicker assured him. "I saw her kick your dumb uncle's ass, so there's no way in hell we'll see her not kick this stupid cold's ass… not that it has an ass. You already knew that, though, and now, I sound like the stupid one. Oh boy, y'know Carl told me it was best if I just kept my mouth shut sometimes. I'm sure you know that I talk a little too much sometimes, but Carl was tellin' me that I just say things that no one wants to hear. I told him he said things that were a little too rude sometimes." Her words trailed on, transforming into incoherent babble while he watched her animatedly explain the exasperation she felt towards what her brother had said to her.

Something about her reminded her of his mama, though he could never quite pinpoint what that was. His mama never was the most animated person. The woman rarely complained about anything. She also talked a lot less than the girl cuddled into his side. Then again, no one talked nearly as much as Lil' Asskicker did. Once he could get a word in edgewise, he spoke ever so gently at her. "Y'know, my mama scares the hell outta me some days." For the first time he could recall, he had the young Grimes girl's full attention. "When I think about it, she's been through so much, y'know? With that dumbass who used to beat her and S'phia and then losing the only thing that she still cared about, she's just… I dunno. She told me once that after they got Glenn and Maggie back from the Governor that my dad went off with Merle for a few days. Said she was so angry and sad that she thought it would've surely killed her, but then once he was back, she couldn't even tell him how angry she was. Shit like that makes me wonder what else she's thinkin'. That scares me. One day, she's bound to explode, and when that day comes, I wanna be as far away as I can be."

'Lil Asskicker attempted to stifle a giggle, failing miserably as the squeak of her laugh escaped her throat. When his narrowed eyes glared down, her hands wrapped around her mouth, but her eyes still sparkled with amusement. "Sorry," she chuckled through her fingers. "Just the thought of you bein' scared of your mama out of anyone here is a little bit hilarious. I didn't mean to laugh at you, Cy." Their eyes connected in that moment, hazel on blue. In that exact connection he realized what it was in her that reminded him of his mama. Those eyes. The twinkle she gave him every time he caught her eyes reminded him of the way his mama's eyes looked at times. It did not seem to matter if she was angry or annoyed or completely and undeniably happy; when she looked at him with those eyes, they glimmered in the same way his mama's did when she looked at his daddy. "Think you could maybe tell me more stories about your ma? I like 'em." Still gazing into those eyes, he could only agree to do so.

"Better watch out, Dixon," his mama teased as she peered out the window at her son. "Looks like we might be a pair of twenty-nine year-old grandparents if Casanova over there keeps this up." Instead of scoffing or shoving her playfully, the older Dixon man slid his arm around his woman's shoulders and pulled her into his chest. Talk of babies could wait, but the time he spent with this woman was limited. "I guess Cosmo was wrong with that greasy hair being a turnoff this season," her muffled chuckles came from his shirt while her weak arms wrapped around his middle. The low rumble of his laugh came from deep within his chest as he leaned over to press a kiss into her hair, but not before he snuck a quick glance at his son, unable to help his curiosity.

A sense of pride washed over him when the young girl in his boy's arms laughed up at him with a look of adoration on her pretty, little face. "Never enough time anymore," he whispered, clinging to the woman in his arms for dear life. "Never enough."