Return and Rebuild

Six months later

The last few months had passed in a blur.

We didn't go to the Sanctuary. Rosita stepped up instead, taking on the responsibility Rick had wanted to hand to Daryl. I'd never seen her hesitate, not even once. She was determined - fierce in the way she handled things, and I knew she was more than capable of keeping the peace there. Eugene was with her too, acting as her aide.

But even without the Sanctuary hanging over us, there was still so much work to do.

We'd made the decision to rebuild Alexandria. Some thought it would be easier to pack up and find somewhere new, somewhere untouched by the destruction. But it wasn't just a collection of destroyed houses and walls. It was our home.

The same streets we'd fought on, bled on, survived on. The porches we'd sat on during the quiet evenings, the gardens people who weren't me had tended to, the houses where laughter had once echoed. It didn't matter how battered and broken it had become - we weren't ready to let it go.

So we went back.

The air smelled of sawdust and smoke for months. Every morning, the hum of hammers and the creak of wood filled the air as we patched what could be saved and tore down what couldn't. The walls came first - reinforced with even thicker panels of steel scavenged from wherever we could find it. Stronger this time. No more cracks. No more weaknesses.

Daryl threw himself into the work, same as always. He was on his feet before the sun most days, unloading supplies and hauling planks with Merle. I'd catch glimpses of them sometimes, bickering like they always did - Merle's rough voice echoing out while Daryl grumbled under his breath. But there was a lightness to it now. The weight they'd both carried for so long had eased. They had each other. They had all of us.

Annie organized the kitchens, gathering whatever she could to make sure no one went hungry. She'd started a little garden near the church, and every time I walked past, the smell of herbs mingled with the lingering scent of ash. Life pushing its way through the ruins.

Rick spent most of his time planning, always with Michonne by his side. They'd talk for hours, pouring over maps and debating the best ways to secure our borders. Sometimes I'd see Judith waddling around them, her little laugh ringing through the air. It was a reminder - even after everything, there was still joy.

At the Hilltop, things were thriving. Maggie's baby bump had blossomed, her hands often resting protectively over it as she oversaw the community's progress. Glenn hovered around her constantly, that familiar gleam of both pride and anxiety in his eyes. He was fiercely protective, but Maggie didn't seem to mind. She'd just smile at him, that soft, knowing smile that said she had everything under control. And she did.

Carol had chosen to return to the Kingdom with Ezekiel, working side by side with him to rebuild. From what I'd heard, the place was coming together fast. The laughter of children echoed through the courtyard again, and the gardens were flourishing. Carol was smiling more these days. A lot more. I was pretty damn sure she and Ezekiel were boning now. I mean, the way he looked at her wasn't exactly subtle. But good for her. She deserved it.

Even Oceanside had become more involved. After everything, they'd finally decided to step out from the shadows. They were trading with the other communities regularly now - fresh fish, dried herbs, even handmade tools. Some of their people had come to Alexandria to lend a hand with the rebuilding, and I had to admit, those badass women knew their way around fortifications. Turns out, when you spend years hiding from the world, you get pretty good at making things secure.

I did whatever needed doing. I helped fix the houses, repaired the fences, stood watch when the shifts needed filling. But mostly, I stayed close to Daryl. Every stolen moment we had together - whether it was working side by side, sharing a meal, or just lying tangled up in bed when the day was done - I cherished it.

We were still healing. All of us. The wounds the Saviors had left ran deep, and sometimes, I'd catch Daryl staring off like the memories were still too close. But he wasn't drowning in them. Not anymore.

~

I climbed into bed with Daryl after another long day. My body ached, the kind of deep exhaustion that comes from working under the sun from dawn to dusk, but it was the good kind. The satisfying kind.

Alexandria really did feel like home again. People had slept in tents and trailers at first, huddled together in makeshift shelters, but things were different now. With the rebuilding nearly finished, we were lucky enough to have real beds again. And Daryl and I didn't just have beds - we had a whole damn house of our own.

It wasn't anything fancy, not that I'd ever wanted fancy. Just a modest two-bedroom, with white siding and trim. The front porch was small but sturdy, complete with a couple of mismatched chairs Merle had dragged over from somewhere. I'd already claimed it as my morning coffee spot, often watching the sun rise with Daryl at my side.

The garden was a work in progress, mostly dirt patches and sprigs of green where I'd managed to coax something to grow. Gardening certainly wasn't my forte, but Daryl had built a little wooden trellis along the front, saying it'd look nice with ivy climbing up it one day. I could picture it already - vines twisting along the beams, little flowers blooming in the spring. A reminder that life could grow again, even after everything we'd been through.

Inside, it was just as simple. The walls were bare for now, but the fireplace in the living room made the whole space feel warm. A beat-up couch sat against one wall, covered in an old quilt I'd salvaged, and the kitchen, small but functional, always smelled like something Aaron and Eric had dropped off. Our bedroom was cozy, with soft, patchwork blankets on the bed.

Daryl's favourite part was the small garage where he tinkered with the new bike he'd built from salvaged parts. I remember his face the day the garage was finished. He took me in there proud as punch, pointing out boring man things that I wouldn't have cared less about if it hadn't been for the beaming grin he wore as he showed me around.

He'd noticed that I wasn't really listening, though - and that's when he grabbed me playfully, bending me over the new tool bench and inching my pants down before reaching for his zipper - beginning the extremely fun process of us naughtily christening every area of our new home.

The intense hunger for each other that consumed us the instant the war ended hadn't waned - if anything, we were more obsessed with each other than ever. Not a day had gone by where we hadn't found solace in each other's bodies, pouring our love into each other. I couldn't get enough of him. He couldn't get enough of me. I'd certainly been wrong in my assumptions about married life being boring.

It was fucking incredible.

Merle and Annie had shacked up now too, right next door to us nonetheless. We could hear her yelling at him sometimes when he was being - well, Merle. But they were actually very in love... Sometimes we heard that too if they forgot to close the windows...

Luckily, that wasn't the case tonight.

Daryl shifted beside me, the bed creaking under our combined weight. His arm lazily draped over my waist as he buried his face against my neck, his breath warm against my skin.

"Could use a vacation," I mumbled, half-joking. "Somewhere that doesn't involve hauling wood or patching up walls."

He snorted softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my hip. "Tell me about it."

"Seriously though, I'm exhausted. We both are. Maybe we could slip away for a few days..."

He raised an eyebrow. "First weddin' anniversary's comin' up."

I blinked, turning to face him. "Is it?"

He shrugged, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Reckon so. Must be sometime 'round now."

We didn't actually know. There hadn't been a calendar to mark the day we said our vows. Just the two of us, his grandparent's rings, and Gabriel. But if the seasons were anything to go by, he was right.

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Guess that means we're celebrating soon."

~

I had no idea where we were headed. Daryl had been vague about it, just telling me to pack a bag and be ready to relax. Of course, that only made me more curious. I appreciated that about him - how he wanted to surprise me, even in the middle of this world gone to hell.

The ride was quiet, the kind of quiet I didn't mind. The steady hum of the engine was soothing, and I could hear the occasional bird in the distance. Every now and then, I'd catch him glancing around at me, a hint of a smile on his face, but not enough to break the comfortable silence. It was like we were the only two people left in the world.

I coiled my arms tighter around him, breathing him in as I watched the scenery pass by. The trees had started to thicken, the roads narrower, winding through hills and valleys I'd never seen before. It made me wonder if Daryl had known about this place we were going all along, or if he had found it by chance. This little break was the best anniversary gift he could've given me.

I had a gift for him too, something I'd enlisted he Hilltop's leathersmith, Sean, to help me with at super-short notice. Apparently he'd scoffed when he received my note requesting him to turn it around in just a couple of days, saying it was a big ask, but the box of goodies I'd sent alongside it as payment had done the trick. Jesus dropped the parcel off at Alexandria himself just this morning, clearly wanting to see the results of the now almost completed rebuilding with his own eyes.

Finally, the bike slowed to a stop. Daryl climbed off, kicking the footstand down before lifting me, not giving me the chance to use my own legs. His eyes glinted as he positioned me so that I rested my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

"Happy anniversary, baby." He breathed in my ear as my breath caught in my throat, taking in where he'd brought me...

A small cabin nestled at the base of a small waterfall, the liquid rushing down in a steady, rhythmic flow. It was beautiful - peaceful, everything I'd hoped for.

I turned in his arms, a little stunned. "It's... perfect."

He grinned, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Ya said ya wanted somewhere relaxin'."

"Thank you." I whispered as I couldn't help but kiss him, dipping my tongue into his mouth to show my gratitude.

"Hopefully no walkers coming over the top of the falls this time." He joked, remembering the intruder from the only other time we'd relaxed by a waterfall.

My smile widened. "I sure as hell hope not."

This place, this moment, felt like a dream, like something that was just for us. The world could keep spinning and falling apart, but for now, we had each other and this little piece of peace.

I took in a deep breath of the fresh, clean air. It smelled like earth and water - like peace, not the relentless toil of rebuilding we'd left behind for a few days.

As he grabbed our packs, Daryl caught my eye again, his expression softer than I had ever seen it. He didn't say anything, just reached out and squeezed my hand.

As we made our way into the cabin, checking it was clear, he dropped the bags on the bed and began rifling through one of them, pulling out a small, narrow box handing it to me quickly - like he wanted to get it over with. The tips of his ears were already turning pink.

I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "But you already gave me a gift - bringing me here..."

He gave me an almost sheepish look. "Wanted ya to have somethin' ya could keep, too."

I smiled gratefully, tearing open the box.

Inside was a small wooden frame that held a photograph of him and I.

I couldn't believe it.

I hadn't even known a photo of us together existed.

But there we were. Slightly younger, less scarred - it looked like we were somewhere in the yard of the prison.

In the image, my head was resting lightly on Daryl's shoulder, my hair falling across my face but not hiding my beaming smile. His eyes were soft, looking at me in that way he did back then when he thought no one was watching, his hand just barely brushing mine. It was a simple moment, but it hit me hard. I hadn't even realized I was missing that - a picture to hold onto, proof that, even then, we'd been a team.

I looked up at Daryl, my throat tightening. "Where did you-"

"Glenn," he answered quietly.

I felt a lump form in my throat, a mix of emotions that I didn't quite have words for. This picture... it was something tangible from the past, a time when everything felt so uncertain, yet here we were - surviving, together, and still finding these pieces of us, tucked away and preserved in a way I never would have expected.

I traced the edges of the frame with my thumb, just to make sure it was real. This moment, this quiet, forgotten moment, was now a part of our story that I could hold in my hands. I remembered seeing Glenn holding a camera once, but I hadn't realized he'd captured this - I'd hadn't even realized it had film in.

"I didn't know this existed," I whispered, barely able to look away from the photo. Then, I squinted, noticing the small wording etched into the wood.

'You're my home.'

A tear that had been pricking since I saw the photo spilled out now. I was overwhelmed by the sentimentality. I'd only said that phrase to Daryl once that I could remember - when we'd finally kissed each other again after his captivity - but he'd obviously hung onto it. It must have held it's weight for him if he'd taken the time to inscribe it so beautifully.

"Thank you." I whispered.

"No need." He rasped, pulling me into his arms.

"I have something for you." I told him when he released me, wiping my eyes and reaching for my own bag.

"Shouldn't'a got me anythin'." He protested.

I rolled my eyes sarcastically, excitement buzzing quietly in my chest. It was the perfect time for me to give him what I'd been holding onto. I couldn't wait any longer.

I pulled the package - wrapped in brown paper and string - out of my bag and handed it to him casually, a playful grin tugging at my lips.

"Happy anniversary, handsome," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

Daryl raised an eyebrow, but he took it, glancing up at me seeming intrigued.

"Yur too good to me." He muttered with a smirk, pulling at the string.

I didn't make a big deal of it, but my heart was beating just a little faster.

He peeled back the brown paper, and when the last of the wrapping fell away, he froze.

Nestled in his hands was a miniature version of his leather vest - almost identical - his angel wings stitched into the back, the same worn leather, but tinier, scaled down.

Meant for somebody smaller. Much smaller.

For a moment, he didn't move. His eyes traced the tiny wings, his thumb brushing over the soft leather. I could see the flicker of disbelief, like his mind was trying to catch up. My heart pounded with anticipation, but a smile was already tugging at my lips.

"I thought it would be nice for them to have their own," I said softly, the words filled with warmth.

Daryl's breath caught as understanding dawned on him. His fingers curled around the tiny vest, his knuckles turning white. Slowly, his head dipped, the strands of his hair falling to shield his face. I waited, but not with fear. There was no uncertainty - only the hope that was radiating from me, knowing he would feel it too.

"Daryl?" I murmured.

He didn't answer right away. His shoulders rose and fell with a shaky breath. His eyes stayed locked on the vest, like it was the most precious thing in the world. When he finally lifted his gaze to meet mine, they were glassy, unshed tears shimmering.

"Yur..." His voice cracked, but a small, breathless laugh followed. "Really?"

"Yes," I smiled, taking a step closer. "Really."

His lips parted, and the beginnings of a smile broke through the disbelief. He shook his head like he couldn't believe it, his hands trembling slightly as they held the little vest tighter, like he never wanted to let it go.

"We're going to have a baby, Daryl."

He blinked rapidly, his face breaking into a grin, the tears still threatening but never falling. "A baby," he echoed, the words trembling with awe. "Our baby."

I nodded, unable to hold back my own tears. "Our baby."

A soft laugh rumbled from him, full of joy. Then, with warning, he grabbed me and lifted me up into the air, spinning me around as if nothing else in the world mattered. The tiny vest was still cradled between us.

His laughter echoed in my ears as I felt the warmth of him surround me, his heartbeat thudding against me as he held me tight, spinning us both in the most carefree, joyful moment we'd shared in a long time.

"Can't believe it," he rasped as he let me slip back to my feet, though not letting me go for a second, and happiness laced every word. "We're havin' a kid..."

"We are," I whispered, smiling against his shoulder. "It's wild."

He pulled back enough to look at me, his eyes still shining. His hands framed my face, his thumb brushing away a tear from my cheek. "I love ya," he said, his voice full of certainty and pure elation.

"I love you, too."

His lips found mine in a tender, lingering kiss, laughter still trembling against my mouth. When we pulled apart, he traced his fingers along the tiny vest once more, his grin unwavering.

"They're gonna look badass in this," he said, his tone playful, but the awe never left his eyes, the weight of the moment settling in deeper with each passing second.

"It won't fit them for a couple of years," I laughed, the sound ringing through the room like music, light and full of joy. "But yeah, badass - just like their dad."

"A dad." He shook his head slowly, a soft chuckle escaping him as he let the reality of the words sink in. "M'gonna be a dad."

I nodded, wiping at my eyes, feeling the weight of the moment too, but with a smile that wouldn't quit.

He smiled back, his free hand finding mine, his fingers squeezing gently. "Yur gonna be a mom."

"I am," I chuckled, the sound of it a little shaky, but full of warmth.

"When did ya-"

"Two days ago." I cut him off, the words tumbling out. "It's been the hardest thing ever not to tell you - I've been desperate to - but I wanted to wait until we came here."

He cupped my face gently, his touch tender as his gaze searched mine. "How far along are ya?"

"I'm not sure - maybe a few weeks?"

"Ya feelin' okay?" His concern sharpened, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at me with care.

"Tired... and a little nauseous," I admitted, meeting his eyes, not hiding the truth.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice low and protective.

I snorted, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Nothing. It's just part of it."

"M'kay..." He paused, his mind clearly ticking over, already slipping into protective dad mode. "You'll need vitamins or somethin', right? And there's one of those machines at Hilltop - Maggie used it."

"Daryl," I giggled, watching him as his cogs turned. "We'll work it all out when we get back. Don't worry."

He laughed at himself, realizing he'd already gone into full-on father mode. "Just wanna take care of ya."

"You always do," I reassured him, pulling him back in so I could kiss him again, this time with more intensity, pouring every ounce of love I had into it. "You always will."

He leaned into the kiss, his arms pulling me even closer, as though he couldn't get enough of me. The weight of the moment - the joy, the overwhelming emotions - settled around us like a blanket. We were tangled together in more than just physical closeness. There was something deeper, something that connected us beyond the present, beyond the world we had fought so hard to survive in.

We were going to be parents, and there was nobody else in the world I'd rather raise a child with.

A/N: Baby Dixon is on the way! ❤️