/This fanfiction came from a roleplay between a friend and I a few years back. BethxDaryl (I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP) AU. If you could not tell in the series, Daryl is in his late 30's, mid 40's and Beth clearly just turned 18 in the series. I know this rubs a lot of people the wrong way and I know the story will upset a lot of CarolxDaryl fans so apologies ahead of time. Now, a lot of the roleplay was lost but I will try to re-write it as best I can from what I remember up to the point where we both kind of lost the will to write it. I will continue it on, of course. Hopefully. I'm a terrible procrastinator if you haven't noticed yet. Anywho, sorry ahead of time for the offenses and the slight change of time line. I repeat, this is an AU non-zombie. I will be also writing an alternate ending for the actual show later on where Beth is never kidnapped. Enjoy and remember to leave comments with feedback. Regards, T./

He took another breath, roughly rubbing his hands across his face. Daryl Dixon sat at his kitchen table, all the lights off save for the dim one that hung over head. Spread out on the table between his elbows were the high pile of bills he was trying to figure out a budget for.

"We just don't have enough money..." He grumbled in defeat, picking up one of the many medical bills he and Carol had received from Sophia's cancer treatment. It had only been a few months ago that Sophia had been running around, happy and full of life. Now, she could hardly be awake without becoming sick. The Chemotherapy wasn't showing any progress and all he saw it doing was making her unable to eat or have any energy or anything a child should be able to do. As of right now, and all day as a matter of fact, she didn't want to leave her room. Well, more like she didn't have the energy to do much aside from play with a few of her dolls and read in bed.

From the kitchen, he heard footsteps coming down the carpeted hall. His muscles tensed as his wife, Carol, stepped into the dimly lit room. Her eyes met his briefly as she moved to lean against the counter to his left.

"So, what's the verdict?" She asked, her voice devoid of emotion. It had been for a while. Things weren't the way they were when they were first married. Hell, the whole marriage happened simply because he'd gotten her pregnant and didn't want to be a deadbeat like his own father. He had been in love with Carol but sometimes people fell apart. They became distant. More like roommates than a married couple. After Sophia had gotten sick, things had really taken a nosedive. Carol had quit her job to be home with their little girl all the time. Daryl was fine with it but it meant that he had to take more hours at the shop, coming in earlier and keeping the shop open later. He also had to let a few of his crewmen go and he had to take their place in fixing the vehicles himself, meaning that he was away most of the time. While he did what he could, the lack of job and stress of Sophia was eating away at Carol.

She knew the love that was once there had dissipated. She didn't want to blame Daryl but she couldn't help but think that he was the one who ruined it. She understood that he needed to work all the time in order to support them financially right now but this was going on far before Sophia had gotten sick. Daryl didn't open up the way normal people do. She only just found out he had an older brother last year. His silence was what caused the coldness in her. He didn't talk, he didn't feel. She didn't even know why they were still together except for they had little time to do anything besides take care of Sophia. She watched him now, taking in the lines of worry that marred his face, the dark circles around his eyes.

"We're short. A lot. I'm going to have to find another job," he grumbled under his breath, not taking his eyes from the mess on the kitchen table. He glanced up at her and stood, seeing her face start to go red again. He wanted another job? She opened her mouth to tell him that him being gone more wouldn't help her or Sophia. To yell, tell him something, anything to vent this disappointment and sadness and anger that had been building up inside her for years. To tell him to sell that stupid crossbow or the motorcycle he never uses. But before she could he grabbed his jacket and truck keys and headed for the door. He didn't want another argument. He didn't want Sophia to be woken from the sounds of their screaming. He already suspected that she knew what was going on and he didn't want his little angel to blame herself. He knew Carol was frustrated with the lack of love in the relationship. The fallout had affected him as much as it had her. But now it was just constant fighting and he had his daughter to think about. She would always come first.

As he got into his beat up old Ford and started it up, he glanced at the digital clock on the dash. 7:14 AM. Another all-nighter. Didn't matter. He didn't have time to sleep. In a little less than an hour, he'd have to be in his shop. He sighed, rubbed his face, the stubble on his cheek scratching at his hand, and pulled the truck out of the drive.

9:36 AM

"Needing another job? The bills getting a little steep?"

Daryl nodded from beneath the old Plymouth hood. A drop of sweat rolled down the tip of his nose and fell onto the grease-blackened metal of the engine. He stood, moving from under the hood and wiping his forehead with the back of his bare arm as he looked at the man who had been talking to him for the past half hour.

Hershel Greene was a common face around the garage. Daryl had been turning up his old car for years, making sure it stayed in the best shape that the old car could. Over the years, Daryl and Hershel had gotten to know each other though not too intimately. Daryl knew Hershel had 3 kids and was married, a veterinarian by trade and generally a good man. Hershel knew that Daryl was a hard worker and hardly ever shown any sign of weakness, of the worry and stress that was overwhelming him from his daughter's quick decline along with his marriage. It was a small town and it wasn't long before even Hershel knew that the Dixons were in turbulent waters.

"Yeah, I just can't find a way to work around them and the damn insurance company is giving us all kinds of Hell. After we close the shop tonight I guess I'll go to Lincoln and see if anyone's hiring over there. Figure it's only a 30-minute drive, ain't too bad," the younger man said, shrugging his shoulders a bit before ducking back under the hood. Silence loomed for a moment. Hershel shifted slightly in the waiting chair he was sitting in, the plastic creaking beneath him as he began to take a good look around.

A few of the men that had worked there in the months' prior hadn't been showing up and Daryl had been working on most of the cars himself, staying late into the night. Hershel remembered coming into town for an emergency vet call a week ago at about 2 AM and spotting the garage lights on and the main door up. He let his eyes roam over the scene a bit longer, taking in the multiple cars in different stages of repair, before letting them fall back on Daryl.

"You know, son, I'm not as spry as I used to be around the farm. I've been looking for some help that I wouldn't have to teach and mentor," Hershel said as he gestured with the cane in his hand. Most days he didn't need the cane. Most days it didn't hurt. But some days, well, it was just easier on his hip. The young man in question stopped and turned his head to look at the old man from beneath a fringe of dark hair.

"What? Are you…I mean…" Daryl didn't know what to say. Hershel was known for being more than generous to his farmhands. He had a large farm that had to be more than the old man could handle by himself anymore.

"I'm offering you a job, Daryl. My old farmhand left a few months back for college. Now, normally I give the young men around our community a chance for the job but, like I said, I can't exactly teach and tutor and be hanging around them to make sure they're doing everything right anymore," Hershel said as he stood, leaning heavily on the wooden cane. He held out his hand to Daryl as the younger man once again ducked out from beneath the car hood. He couldn't help the grim smile that graced his face. Cleaning his hand on the grease towel that hung from his pocket, he reached out and firmly shook Hershel's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Greene. You won't regret this."