Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or anyone/anything else. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is fiction created by me. This story does not reflect the actual series and doesn't claim to be anything but me having a bit of extra time on my hands getting the mental dialogue from my make believe stories in my head on paper (or computer that is). Any and all original characters created by me are not and do not resemble any known person(s). If you have any concerns or questions about what I've written please contact me and I will be happy to discuss anything. I'm a reasonable person.

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Recapture

Chapter 1

Daryl got up early that morning and headed out to hunt. He hadn't been sleeping well; he kept having reoccurring dreams. They were so vivid they almost seemed real. If it wasn't a dream of his endless searching for Sophia or her coming out of the barn, it was of Merle either berating him or asking why he wasn't looking for him. Every morning, assuming he actually slept until morning, he'd wake up with his heart racing. This morning was no different.

Daryl walked through the brush, thorns cutting into his arms but he didn't notice the pain from it. After awhile he noticed the red scratches on his arms, where the blood was drawn to the surface, feeling the sting after seeing them. Daryl had his crossbow ready, hoping to stumble across deer tracks or to fight off a walker. He was so restless from not sleeping well he almost didn't care which as long as he could be distracted by something.

Daryl stepped out of the woods to a clearing. There was an old barn in the middle of it. Daryl walked around to the opposite side and could see an old run down house a short distance away. Daryl peered into the barn; he was able to see completely through to the other side. The doors on either side were open. It appeared to be an old horse's stable with room for about four horses. The hay on the ground didn't appear to be that old which made him wonder more about the house on the property. Daryl didn't hear anything moving in the stable so he decided to head towards the house to see what else he could find.

Once on the porch of the house, he could see the paint chipping and peeling. It looked like it could've been a nice house once upon a time. Daryl thought it was a shame the owners didn't take better care of it. Daryl quietly entered the house which was fully furnished and the smell of death smacked him in the face. Daryl fought the urge to gag and proceeded to search the house. If it wasn't for the smell, the house still looked livable inside. It just needed some fixing up. Daryl didn't see anything downstairs so he headed upstairs and the further he went the stronger the smell. It smelled like rotting fish but somehow that didn't seem to be enough of a description if Daryl had to put the smell into words but it was the closest he could come up with.

Daryl was at the top of the stairs when he turned down the hallway and slowly turned the knob of the closed door of the first bedroom on the right. Daryl opened the door with his crossbow ready and discovered two smaller sized bodies, possibly teenagers, each in separate beds both with what appeared to be shotgun wounds. The bodies were severely decomposed and flies were swarming the air around them. Daryl closed the door and headed further down the hallway. He checked the next bedroom on the right and discovered it empty. It appeared to be used as an office of some sort. Across from the office was another bedroom, the door was open and slowly stepped in. He could see a man and a woman lying in the bed both shot by a shotgun. The shotgun was lying across the man's lap. There was a large streak of blood spatter against the headboard and the wall.

Daryl couldn't imagine being that desperate to kill your own family and yourself. Growing up the way he did, no matter how bad, Daryl never once thought about killing himself. Maybe killing other people who seemed to deserve it but not himself. He didn't understand why everyone had such a hard time dealing with the new world they were living in. Granted, it was no picnic but if you wanted to survive, you could. You just needed to want to. But Daryl guessed not everyone wanted to survive.

He made his way back downstairs and as he passed by the living room something caught his eye. Daryl noticed a doll sitting in one of the chairs. It was a doll in a white dress with brown haired braids on either side of its head. Daryl walked over to the chair and picked up the doll. Daryl smiled a little at the memory it brought back.

Daryl stood by the creek behind his home as he watched one of the older boys in the neighborhood grab the doll from the young girl. The girl had her brown hair in braids just like the doll did. He heard the girl yell at one of the older boys.

"Now you give me that back! It's mine! Give it here!" She yelled as she fought with the two boys. They towered over her so keeping the doll out of her reach was no issue. All they had to do was raise it above their heads to keep it away from her.

Daryl just watched as the boys played a game of keep away with the doll and no matter how useless it was, the little girl continued to run back and forth between them. Finally, she grew frustrated and kicked one of the boys in the shin as he was throwing the doll to the other.

"YOU STUPID BRAT!" the boy yelled at her as he pushed her hard, knocking her to the ground. The boy grabbed the doll from the other boy and threw it into the creek. The young girl screamed in horror and started to run along beside the creek trying to keep up with the current dragging the doll further away from her. Daryl could see the look of despair as the young girl chased in vain after her doll.

Without giving it much thought, Daryl reached down across the edge of the creek and grabbed hold of the doll right before it passed by him. The young girl caught up to him out of breath.

"My doll, my doll! You saved her!" She told him as she stared with her big brown eyes up to him seeming afraid to reach out for it. Daryl figured she was about three years younger than him, making her about 6 years old. She had a few light freckles across her nose. Daryl could see the tears in her eyes as her mouth turned downward as she was about to cry. He gently handed her the doll and just stood there in silence.

"Thank you…" She said softly as she clutched the doll to her chest, it being soaking wet drenched the front of her dress.

"MISSY!" Daryl heard a woman call out. The young girl whipped her head around and they saw a woman heading towards them waving frantically.

"GET OVER HERE NOW!" She yelled out.

The young girl who Daryl now knew as Missy turned back to him and gave him half a smile. "Bye…." She said and she turned away and ran towards the woman. Once close enough to the woman for the woman to reach her, she was jerked by her arm.

"What did I tell you about staying away from those Dixon boys? Look at you! You're a mess! Your new dress is just ruined! What am I going to do with you?" She asked as she dragged Missy back inside their house.

Before stepping in the door, the girl turned and gave one last look towards Daryl before her mother shoved her in.

Daryl dragged his foot in the dirt in front of him with his head down. Slowly he headed back to his house….

Daryl sat the doll back in the chair and left the house. He started to head back into the woods when he stopped and turned back to the barn. Daryl climbed up in the loft area of the stable and just laid against a few bails of hay. He planned to just close his eyes for a minute but ended up falling asleep.