AN: Here we are, the final chapter here. Remember that this universe is continued in "Daddy," so you can read that if you'd like to spend a little more time with this particular version of the Dixons.

I hope you enjoy the final chapter! Let me know what you think!

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There were many mornings when Daryl's favorite part of waking up was Carol greeting him with a smile, and asking if he might want to start their day off in the best way possible. There was no such thing as a bad choice for morning sex, in Daryl's opinion. Whether Carol woke up with something new on her mind, whether it ended in laughter over things not going quite as planned or shared congratulations over things going even better than planned, or whether it was just a quiet, lazy time spent coaxing sensations from each other's bodies, Daryl didn't think he'd ever been truly disappointed by anything that they'd done together. He was always more than happy to sacrifice a little sleep—because if it was going to happen, it had to happen before Sophia got up—for the time they could spend together.

Carol had woken him by lighting their lamp after a very early morning escape from the bed to relieve herself. She'd come to him, nuzzling him awake and growling a quiet request in his ear for his attentions. She'd been hungry for his affection—whatever form that might take. The sleepy smiles and kisses had given way to sleepy sex that was warm, and comfortable, and allowed Daryl the opportunity to smell, taste, and caress the woman he loved—the woman he'd feared that he'd lost.

She'd curled up against him, when they were done, and she'd fallen back asleep in his arms. He'd napped with her, but he'd woken before she did—before any of the prison had, from what he could tell. Daryl eased up and out of the bed. He brushed his lips across her face and whispered close to her ear.

"I love you, woman," he offered. He watched her lips for a twitch or the hint of a smile. Her breathing remained steady, though, and Daryl knew that she was too far away from him—hopefully in some beautiful, wonderful dream creation—to hear the words. He also knew that it didn't matter. Not really. Whether she heard them or not, she knew them to be true.

Daryl relieved himself, washed his hands and face, and then he dressed as quietly and as quickly as he could. Before he left the cell, he checked one more time to make sure that Carol was sleeping well, and he blew out the lamp before taking his boots out into the corridor.

Daryl found a seat on one of the steps leading up to the second level and worked his way into his boots. The prison was silent. Daryl felt like he could almost hear his own breath echoing around him in the profound silence.

He walked carefully, more aware of the sound of his footsteps than usual. He slipped into the cell where Sophia slept, lit the lamp, and held it in his hand as he peeked over the side of her pen.

He expected to find her every bit as lost in sleep as her mother. Instead, he found her looking up at him with her big brown eyes. She was clearly comfortable and satisfied—she'd found no reason to wake them yet—and she was cuddling with her lamb. She tossed the lamb to the side and grinned at Daryl when he peeked over the side at her.

"Daddy," she mused. Daryl smiled to himself. He could hear every bit of the affection in her voice that was evident on her features.

"Hey, Soph," Daryl responded quietly. "Why ain't you asleep like everybody else?"

She responded by sitting up and moving everything in her pen farther away from her. She cleared her space, rolled over, and pushed herself up. Holding onto the side, she was practically touching her face to Daryl's. The grin hadn't faded in the least.

"Hi, Daddy," she offered. "Hi. Hi. Hi." She repeated. Daryl laughed to himself and she echoed his laughter, much more loudly than he had. He shushed her, not wanting to be the reason that the entire prison had to throw in the towel and commit to being awake.

"Good mornin', Sophia," Daryl offered, scooping her out of the pen, somewhat awkwardly, because he didn't want to drop the burning oil lamp. He put the lamp down and rummaged around in Sophia's things. He gathered a clean change of clothes, a clean cloth diaper, and the little girl's shoes by arranging them all on top of one another before he scooped them up with one hand. He blew out the lamp and carried the toddler with him. As he walked, she grabbed his face, held it in her hands, and gave him a slobbery kiss on the cheek that ended in a loud smack—the sound of which only served to make her laugh more as she wiggled against him.

When he had her in the room they used for sorting everything—especially laundry—and for storing dishes and such, he put down Sophia's things, cleared a space on the table, and took one of the towels from the stack they kept there. Still holding her, he spread the towel out, one-handed, on the table. Then he dampened a rag in the large wooden washbowl and carried it over to the table.

Sophia understood what was taking place, and she didn't fight him. She allowed him to strip her down naked and to wipe her down quickly with the rag, paying special attention to anywhere that might have been soaking in urine for the last little bit. She allowed him to pin on the clean diaper and to cover it with one of the lined diaper covers they'd found, and she allowed him to dress her in her clothes. She pushed against him—her effort to help him—when he worked her feet into the shoes and pressed the Velcro straps into place.

She hummed at him when he picked her up, tossed all the used things into the laundry pile, and carried her over to the washbowl. Daryl dipped his fingers into the water, dampened them, and used them to comb through Sophia's straight hair and push it back out of her eyes.

He accepted the hug of thanks—because that's how he thought of it—that she gave him by leaning her face against him as he carried her outside. He patted her back as he walked through the yard.

They were working on getting the dividing fences down. They were already recycling those fences and beginning to put up the framework for the pens where they would pen up livestock they managed to trap and domesticate. In the lower corners, the ground was being broken for their crops. Daryl had some ideas for trapping and breeding rabbits for food when game was scarce.

This place was a prison. It had marked the end of freedom for some people—the end of life for others. For his family, though, this place marked the beginning of a new life. It was becoming a home with each passing day.

Daryl stopped walking, his stomach clenching at the thoughts that ran through his mind. He smiled to himself, squeezed Sophia affectionately, and leaned forward to balance her little feet on the ground. As she often did, early in the morning when she was just waking and getting her sea legs for the day, she wobbled for a second before she was confidently steady and started off to begin her little adventures.

It would be at least fifteen or twenty minutes before she realized she hadn't had breakfast. The tiny frog that caught her attention—one of many that strayed too far from one creek or the other that surrounded the prison—and was running for his life, would hold her interest for a bit. She'd chase after him. She'd mimic him. She'd watch him and, probably, fall down a half a dozen times in her short-lived pursuit of him. She'd laugh at his hopping—and maybe a loud croak if he gave her one—and she'd cry when she ultimately realized he was still too fast and she was still too small to catch him.

And then, Daryl knew, she'd turn around—wherever she was in the yard—and she'd look for him. He'd surprise her, as he always did, because he'd be close by. And she'd call out for him. Maybe she'd do it through her sobs of disappointment, even. She'd look to him to make it all right.

And he would make it all right. He'd scoop her up, brush off the excess dirt that he could, and he'd take her to find her mama—who would be glad for the extra sleep—if milk might soothe her sadness. Maybe, even, he'd catch her that frog that she wanted so much, and he'd let her pet it between the eyes and on its soft belly. He'd teach her about how soft frogs were and how happy they looked when they were soothed into actually calming in your hands. Maybe, one day, he'd take her down to the creek, and he'd show her how to catch the biggest ones so her mother could cook them, but that was for another time. Today, he'd simply soothe over her sadness.

Because that was what Daddy was supposed to do.

Daryl sat down on the ground and smoked a cigarette while Sophia chased her hopping friend in the damp grass.

His old man had always made things pretty clear for him. He'd been mostly born to be a waste of time and space. He was the kind of man that wasn't meant to ever have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. He would never be anything, and he wasn't worth anything. No self-respecting woman would ever want the likes of him, because he was only good for one thing, and that was ruining her life.

Rooster Dixon had made it clear exactly what he thought of both his boys, and what his predictions were for the rest of their sorry ass lives.

And, Daryl knew, even though it made his gut churn to think it, that some people still saw him that way—maybe they always would.

But Carol saw him as something different. And Sophia saw him as something different.

And, because of them, he could feel it—rolling right along in his gut with everything else. He was becoming something different.

He might not have a pot to piss in, but he had a bucket, and that would do in a pinch. He didn't have a window all his own, per se, but he wasn't too damned good to carry the bucket to the latrine or to rinse it with creek water.

Whether or not he was patted on the back and lauded for his accomplishments, he knew that half the people around him wouldn't eat regularly—and wouldn't have eaten many days in the past – if it hadn't been for him. They wouldn't have a lot of the comforts that made them happy as they went on through their lives.

He was worth the world to his little family. That was one thing he had. It was one thing that nobody could take away from him. He had a family all his own.

Carol wanted him. She loved him. No matter if he always deserved it or not, she loved him. She didn't just make him feel like she tolerated him or put up with him, she made him feel like he was a blue-ribbon prize. The absolute best in show.

And he loved her more than he loved his own life.

Sophia loved him. She didn't know he didn't deserve it. She didn't know he was born to be worth nothing—a piece of trash just like his father before him. She didn't know he had been born with the destiny to be the worst father in the world—if he ever became a father at all. She'd already had a shit father, even though she didn't know that, either.

All Sophia knew was that Daryl was Daddy. And Daddy, in Sophia's book, seemed to be a pretty good guy—no matter who might disagree with her.

"Daddeeee," Sophia yelled, standing up and searching him out. He was about seven feet away from her, and she grinned at him when he waved at her.

"What you need?" He asked.

"Daddy!" She repeated, waving her hand at him, enthusiastically. "Come, Daddy!"

Daryl smiled to himself.

"I guess I knew I was about to have to catch me a frog, right Soph?" He called out. She probably hadn't understood everything he'd said. She didn't really need to, though.

"Right, Daddy!" She called out to him, continuing to wave him over. She understood everything that mattered to her, and she knew that her understanding of the current situation was right, because Daryl snubbed out his cigarette and got up before walking toward the area where she would point out the small frog for him to scoop up as it tried desperately to make one last escape.

Daryl's old man might have been right all along. Maybe Daryl was born to be nothing but a worthless waste of time and space that was no damned good to anybody. Maybe he was born to be nothing and a nobody.

But Daryl Dixon knew that, no matter what he was born to be, he was becoming a hell of a lot more.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I had a great time writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it.

I hope to see you down the road a piece, reading something else!

Don't forget to let me know what you think!