﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞."

·········

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

It had been weeks, maybe even months since Rick died, but the ache of it was still raw. The world hadn't slowed down, hadn't given anyone time to breathe, but everything felt off now. Without Rick, there was a hole in the group that couldn't be filled. 

Daryl had been out in the woods for days at a time, searching for Rick's body. He couldn't explain why, not even to himself. Maybe it was the hope that he'd find something—anything—that could make it feel real. Maybe it was the need to make sure Rick was really gone, a way to find closure, though he knew deep down he wouldn't find it. Not really. There's just no way to say goodbye to someone like that, not in this world.

But no matter how far he goes, no matter how many times he checks those woods, Alexandria still feels like a weight around his neck. Sunny's there. And as much as he tries to pretend things are okay, they're not.

She's not okay.

It's been a long time since he saw that spark in her eyes—the one that used to shine when she laughed, the one that made her seem like a kid, even in a world that had nothing but monsters. Now, she's quiet. Too quiet. She's become a shadow of the girl he used to know. The one who used to joke, who'd smile even when it was the last thing she felt like doing.

But now, she was barely there. She was in Alexandria, alone, or hiding behind walls that nobody could break down. Every corner of the place was a reminder of what had been lost—of Rick, Carl, and Negan. It seemed like she couldn't escape it, not even in the place they called home now.

It wasn't just Alexandria. It was everything. The constant deaths, the looming presence of Negan, the things that had been done—things they'd all done to survive. Sunny was tangled in it all, and there wasn't anything Daryl could say or do to make her see the world differently. He couldn't fix her grief, couldn't undo the trauma that she carried in her eyes.

Daryl knew what it was like to feel lost, to feel like the world had ripped everything away. But Sunny... she didn't have the same walls he'd built. She had her own scars, and he wasn't sure how to help her heal. Sometimes he wondered if she even wanted to. 

She was drowning in everything that had happened, and no matter how many times he told her he was there, no matter how many times he tried to get her to talk, it didn't make a difference. She just seemed to shrink further away with every passing day.

She wasn't living anymore. She was existing, moving through each day like she was on autopilot. She couldn't even bring herself to look at the people around her, as if doing so would make it all too real again. She didn't know how to be herself anymore, and Daryl couldn't blame her. The whole world had changed, and so had she.

He could see it, the weight of it all pressing down on her, making her smaller and smaller each day. The loss of Carl, the death of Rick, and everything that had come before it—it all sat on her shoulders like an unbearable burden, too heavy for her to carry alone.

 And maybe that's why she had been pulling away from everyone. Maybe that's why she had isolated herself in Alexandria, trapped in a place full of memories she couldn't escape. Daryl knew she wasn't ready to face it all, but he also knew she couldn't keep running from it.

He didn't know how to help her. Every time he tried to talk to her when he came to the community, she'd just give him that blank stare, like she was somewhere else entirely. He wasn't sure if she even heard him anymore. 

She hadn't let anyone close in weeks, maybe months, and it hurt to see her like this. He hated seeing her so lost, but he didn't know how to pull her out of it. He wasn't a good talker. He couldn't fix what was broken inside her. 

And still, he stayed.

He had become the closest thing to family she had left, and maybe that's what kept him from walking away. He wasn't her proper dad. He knew that. But he was the one who was still here. The one who hadn't left her. And that had to count for something, even if it wasn't enough to make her smile again.

When Daryl finally agreed to take her into the woods, he wasn't sure why he did it. Part of him didn't want to bring her. The woods weren't a safe place—not anymore. But Alexandria wasn't any better for her, and he could see the way she shrank in on herself more every day. 

She was drowning in the past, and staying in that place, surrounded by all the ghosts of what they'd lost, wasn't helping her heal. He knew she needed to get away from it, even if she didn't know it herself.

It wasn't a conversation. It wasn't even a decision made out loud. It was just something that happened. Daryl led her out into the woods, not asking if she wanted to come, not even trying to explain it. He just grabbed her by the arm and pulled her along. He wasn't sure what she needed, but maybe this would be a start.

The silence between them was heavy as they walked. Sunny didn't say anything, didn't look at him. She was distant, lost in her own head, but that wasn't new. She hadn't been able to look at him for weeks. And as much as it hurt, Daryl couldn't blame her for that. 

He knew she was a long way from being okay, but part of him hoped that her being with him would change something. Maybe getting away from Alexandria would help her clear her head, help her reconnect with something she had lost in herself.

As they sat down later, resting on a log, Daryl watched her closely. She wasn't looking at him. She wasn't looking at anything. Her eyes were dull, like there was nothing to see, nothing worth paying attention to. He could hear the quiet of the woods around them, but it felt like the silence between them was even louder. 

Every time he glanced at her, she shrank just a little bit more. She was disappearing in front of him, and no matter how hard he tried to pull her back, she wasn't coming back.

He hated it.

He hated the way she couldn't seem to find a reason to live anymore. He hated the way the world had taken so much from her, from all of them. He hated that she had to carry the weight of everything, the weight of Carl's death, the weight of Rick's absence, the weight of everything that had happened between her and Negan. She didn't deserve any of it.

He doesn't know what she needs. Doesn't know how to help. He's watched her shrink into herself day after day, and it eats at him. He feels like he's losing her, even though she's right there. It's like she's slipping further and further away, and all he can do is watch.

Daryl stayed by her side, even though he didn't know what to do. Even though he knew it wouldn't be enough to fix her. But he was here. He was all she had left. And maybe that was the only thing he could offer—his presence, his steady silence, his broken heart standing next to hers.

As the night settled in, the forest wrapped around them in a blanket of quiet. Daryl sat there, his back pressed against the rough bark of a tree, his eyes fixed on the girl lying a few feet away. Sunny hadn't said a word in hours, and now she was finally asleep, her body curled up on the ground beside him. The only sound was the soft rustling of leaves in the wind and the occasional snap of a twig in the distance.

He watched her closely, even in the dim light of the moon. Her face was peaceful in sleep, but Daryl knew better than to think it meant she was okay. He could see the weight of everything on her still, even as she lay there, her breath slow and steady. 

The way she held herself—tight, like she was afraid of someone seeing too much of her—spoke louder than anything she could say. The soft lines of her face, the slight frown that never seemed to leave her lips, the way her hands were curled into fists even as she slept—it all told him more than he could put into words.

He leaned his head back against the tree, staring up at the dark sky. The stars were barely visible through the canopy of leaves, but through the trees, he could just about make out Orion. And that just made him think of how little Sunny was when she spoke about those stars, forcing his mind to drift elsewhere.

Daryl had been thinking about this for a long time, about how things had gone so wrong, about what could have been. He had watched Rick die in front of him, and that moment had torn a piece of him away. But it was the aftermath that ate at him the most. Seeing Sunny like this, seeing her so broken, made him wish that things had gone differently.

He wished the world had never fallen apart, that none of this had ever happened. He wished they could have lived in a world where they weren't constantly running, where they weren't haunted by the ghosts of their pasts. He wished for a world where they could just live, without fear, without loss.

And above all, he wished that Negan had never been a part of her life. That the man who had taken so much from them all, the one who had twisted everything into something unrecognizable, had never crossed their path. 

He couldn't even begin to understand what it had been like for Sunny, reuniting with the man she thought she knew. He had seen the way Negan treated her, the way he had molded her into something that wasn't her, made her carry things she shouldn't have had to. And even after all that, after everything Negan had done, Sunny still carried the weight of him with her.

Daryl didn't know how to fix that. He didn't know how to undo what had been done to her. All he could do was be there, to stay by her side, to watch over her when she couldn't even see him.

But the truth of it ate at him, gnawed at him like a hunger he couldn't satisfy. He just wished he had been there for her sooner. He wished he had been her dad from the start, that he could have been the one to protect her from all the pain, from the nightmares, from the cruelty of this world. He wished he had been there to teach her, to guide her, to help her find the strength to keep going.

But he hadn't been. 

But hell, he couldn't help but think about how different things would have been if he was.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

The engine rumbled beneath Daryl's hands as he wiped the grease off his palms, stepping away from the car he'd been working on for the last few hours. The garage smelled like gasoline and oil, the kind of scent he'd grown used to. 

The sun had already started dipping low in the sky, and he figured it was about time to call it a day. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the heat from the afternoon still clinging to the air.

He was quick to get home, and as he made his way towards the house, he could hear the muffled sound of Sunny's laughter from inside—Merle probably mad because she beat him again. As he walked through the front door, he barely had time to take off his boots before he heard her shrill voice.

"Daddy's home!"

The excitement in her tone made his heart give a small skip, even after all these years.

"Merle! Keep her in the living room!" He shouted quickly, his voice rough from the day's work. He didn't want her catching sight of the wrapped gift he had hidden under his jacket. It wasn't much, just something small for her birthday tomorrow, but it was from him. A little piece of normal, even if everything else around them was far from it.

Merle's voice boomed from the kitchen, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Ain't like she ain't seen ya hide shit before, man."

Daryl just grunted in response, he wished his brother would for once mind his language around Sunny, but he knew that would never happen. He was quick to duck into the kitchen, hiding the present behind a cabinet door as if it would suddenly vanish if he didn't keep it out of her sight. 

With the gift out of the way, he stepped into the living room, where Sunny was sitting at the table, scribbling something on a piece of paper.

The moment she saw him, her eyes lit up, and before he knew it, she was running straight toward him.

He crouched down just in time to catch her, lifting her up into his arms, feeling the weight of her small frame against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, holding on like she never wanted to let go.

"Hey, darlin'," he said softly, pressing his cheek against her head, a small, rare smile tugging at his lips.

He pulled her back to arms' length to look at her. Her wide eyes sparkled with the excitement only a child could have, and Daryl couldn't help but feel his heart swell. She was growing up so fast, but she was still his little girl. 

He glanced over at the table, where papers were spread out in the middle of their family room. A game of hangman was half-completed, the letters and phrases scribbled in thick childlike writing.

"Hell's all this?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Already started without me, huh?"

Sunny bounced on her feet, grinning mischievously. "You missed it, Daddy," she said proudly. "I beat Merle's ass at hangman!"

Daryl's lips twitched, trying to fight back a smile. "Language," he chided, raising a finger in mock disapproval.

Merle, who had been sitting in his usual chair, smirked from across the room. "Shit, Sunshine," he said, his gravelly voice carrying the sarcasm only Merle could master. "Darlina wouldn't like to hear all the words I've taught ya then, huh?"

Daryl rolled his eyes, though he couldn't hide the affection in his expression. He crossed the room to join them at the table, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to Sunny. "Dumbass," he said, his voice low and teasing as he ruffled his daughter's hair.

Merle chuckled from the corner, shaking his head as he took a swig from the bottle he always kept by his side. "Shit, she's gotta learn from someone," he muttered. "But I'll try to keep her from turnin' into a sailor just yet."

Daryl shot Merle a sidelong glance, but he couldn't help but grin. It was true. Merle had always been the one to get under everyone's skin with his dirty jokes and colorful language, but underneath it all, Daryl knew he cared for Sunny like she was his own.

Sunny leaned over to Daryl, her wide eyes sparkling. "Daddy, you're gonna beat Merle's ass next, right?" She asked eagerly, her voice full of hope.

Daryl chuckled, ruffling her hair again. "I'll try, darlin'. But ya know your uncle Merle's got a real dirty trick up his sleeve when it comes to this game."

Merle snorted from the chair. "Ain't no trick, it's called bein' smart," he grinned. "Ain't my fault if I'm the one always outsmartin' ya."

Daryl snorted, "Uh huh? Well, Sun, you choose the word again," he smirked, watching Sunny scribble lines down on the piece of paper. Sunny looked up at him with a grin, clearly proud of herself. Daryl gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow. "Come on, use one of them big words you like to throw around," he teased.

Her eyes lit up with excitement. Sunny loved this part. She'd always loved words, even when she was little. She didn't just learn them in school—no, she studied them. She'd spent hours reading dictionaries, memorizing every weird, complicated word she could find. 

Daryl didn't know where she got the brains from—sure wasn't from him, or Merle, that was for damn sure. But somehow, she was smart. Hell, a lot smarter than a 7-year-old should be.

It always made him wonder, watching her. She knew words like Kakorrhaphiophobia. Hell, Daryl had to look that one up when she used it, and when he found out what it meant, he couldn't stop laughing. He wasn't sure how she could even pronounce half the words she knew, let alone understand them. But there she was, writing out another challenge on the paper, her little fingers moving like lightning.

Merle raised an eyebrow. "You tellin' me she knows words like that already?" He asked, clearly skeptical but also a little impressed as the girl scribbled tons of lines.

Daryl just nodded, shaking his head. "You'd be surprised," he said quietly, his voice soft, almost like he was still in disbelief himself. 

He'd seen Sunny do things that didn't make sense for someone her age—like when she picked up a book and started reading it like she'd done it a hundred times before, or when she started explaining something in a way that made Daryl and Merle both scratch their heads, wondering how the hell she'd learned that.

Sunny's tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she added a few more letters to her drawing, and Daryl couldn't help but smile, even as the weight of it all sat heavy in his chest. She was growing up fast, way too fast.

Sunny finished scribbling down the word and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm ready," she said with a grin that could light up the whole room.

Daryl raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in his chair. "Let's see what you got, kiddo," he said, watching her carefully.

After what felt like hours, Sunny finally finished the hangman drawing, neither of the men being able to guess the word Sunny chose.

Merle leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and let out a frustrated laugh. "She's a damn cheat, gotta be," he grumbled, giving Sunny a sideways look. "Ain't no way a little thing like you knows words that long without somethin' fishy goin' on." She proudly put down the pen, her lips curled into a smirk. The word she chose being - "Pulchritudinous."

Sunny just giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "You just don't know enough big words, Merle," she teased, her voice light and full of mischief.

Daryl shook his head with a soft chuckle. "She's not cheatin', Merle. She's just smart. Probably smarter than you."

Merle snorted, clearly unimpressed. "Smart? She's outsmartin' me, that's for sure. Little brat's got a trick up her sleeve." He shot her a wink, then added, "Guess we ain't playin' anymore games tonight, huh?"

Daryl just smiled at the exchange, the warmth in his chest growing. It felt good, seeing Sunny happy, even if Merle was being his usual sarcastic self. This night happened every year, before Sunny's birthday, the three would spend the night doing whatever the hell Sunny wanted.

They decided on pizza—Sunny's favorite—loaded with pepperoni and extra cheese, the greasy kind that left fingerprints on the box. Merle had taken the first slice, of course, and Daryl had grumbled about it, but it didn't matter. It was tradition, and right now, that was all that mattered. 

As they ate, Sunny told them about the things she wanted to do when she got older, from traveling to far-off places to reading every book she could find and become the best damn author the world had seen. 

After the pizza was gone and they'd eaten more than enough, Daryl's tone changed, softening. "Alright, Sun. Time for bed," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

Merle groaned. "You're kiddin', right? It's still early, damn sun's still shinin'."

"Can't let 'er stay up too late, Merle. Ya know the drill." Daryl wasn't really asking. It was a rule they followed every year, like clockwork. Sunny needed her rest, especially with tomorrow being her big day.

Sunny gave a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes. "I'm not tired," she protested, but there was no real fight in her voice. She never put up much of a struggle, knowing Daryl wouldn't back down.

Daryl reached down to ruffle her hair, his fingers catching in her messy locks. "I know, darlin'. But you gotta be up early for the big day." He winked at her, and though she pouted for a moment, she stood up and headed for the stairs. "Get some sleep, okay? We'll be here when ya wake up."

Merle tossed a half-empty bottle of beer into the trash and pushed his chair back, grumbling something about wrapping presents and how he hated that damn tape. Daryl followed him into the small room they'd made into a makeshift office, where the gifts they'd gotten for Sunny were scattered across the table.

It wasn't much. They didn't have a lot of money—hell, they barely had enough to keep the lights on most days—but they managed. Every year, they scraped together whatever they could, whether it was books, little toys, or a nice jacket. It wasn't about the cost, anyway. It was about the thought behind it. And every year, without fail, Sunny's eyes would light up when she saw the presents.

Daryl helped Merle wrap the gifts, taping corners and folding paper with care, his mind racing through the memories of the years before. This had become their routine—an unspoken agreement that they'd make it special for her, no matter what. She deserved it.

When everything was wrapped, they set the presents in a corner of the living room, far out of sight. The sight of them—those simple, carefully wrapped packages—made Daryl's heart swell. This was what mattered. 

With the presents out of the way, Daryl went upstairs to check on Sunny. He paused outside her door, hearing her soft giggles from inside. He shook his head and leaned against the doorframe. "I know you ain't asleep," he said, his voice low but teasing.

Sunny's giggles quieted for a moment before she couldn't help but let out another little laugh, muffled by the covers. "I'm tryin'," she replied, her voice still full of excitement.

Daryl walked in, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. He sat down on the edge of her bed, looking at her as she peeked out from under the blankets, her wide eyes shining in the dim light.

"You're too excited to sleep, huh?" he said, his voice almost a whisper, like he didn't want to disturb the peace of the moment.

She nodded eagerly, her small hands clutching the edges of the blanket. "I just can't wait, Daddy," she said, a grin spreading across her face.

Daryl groaned, leaning back slightly. "Well, guess ya must be too excited to open an early present, then," he said, trying to sound serious but unable to hide the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sunny's eyes went wide, her grin growing even bigger. "Can I?" She asked, her voice practically bouncing with joy.

Daryl chuckled, pulling a small, neatly wrapped present from his pocket. "Here," he said, handing it to her. "But you gotta promise me something—don't go tellin' Merle, alright? He'll get all jealous."

Sunny giggled, her small hands tearing the paper open without a second thought. When the wrapping came off, she gasped softly. Inside was a small, wooden horse, smooth and polished with intricate details carved into its body. It wasn't much—just a simple piece of wood—but to Sunny, it was perfect.

She picked it up carefully, turning it in her hands as if it might break. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice full of awe.

Daryl watched her, his heart swelling again. "You like it?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

Sunny's face lit up as she nodded, hugging the horse close to her chest. "I love it," she said, her voice full of sincerity. "Thank you, Daddy."

Daryl smiled, a warmth spreading through him. It wasn't the fancy toys or the big things that mattered—it was these little moments. The way she smiled, the way she still believed in the little things. That was all he needed.

"Get some rest, okay?" He said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. "Big day tomorrow."

Sunny nodded again, still clutching her new wooden horse. "I will, I promise," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed, the excitement of the day still sparkling in her gaze.

Daryl stood up, making sure to tuck the blanket around her. "Sweet dreams, darlin'," he said as he turned toward the door.

"Goodnight, Daddy," she whispered, her voice trailing off as she drifted into sleep, the wooden horse still cradled in her hands.

Daryl paused at the door, watching her for a moment. A soft sigh escaped him. He just wished he could stay in that moment forever.

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

That was that. For some reason, that's where his mind would go. Sunny Rose Dixon, her 8th birthday. It felt like a lifetime ago, a world away. He hadn't meant to drift back there, back to a life that wasn't his, that could've been. But sometimes, his thoughts slipped and he found himself wishing for something he knew he could never have.

It wasn't real, it never had been. That moment, with her giggling as she tore into the gift, her eyes wide with joy. That life with Merle, with a house, with a family that was whole. Sunny laughing, playing outside, running to the door when he got home, calling him 'Daddy' like it was the most natural thing in the world. A life where everything was just normal.

But it wasn't real. Daryl knew that. He couldn't go back. He could never fix the past. He wasn't her father then. Hell, he wasn't even in her life at all until after everything had gone to shit. He knew that, deep down, even though sometimes the weight of what could've been pulled at him like a rope he couldn't cut.

Sunny had a good childhood once. He could picture it, the way her mom probably held her tight, the way her dad would've taught her how to ride a bike, how to walk through life with her head held high. Her parents had loved her, that much was obvious from the way she spoke about them, from the memories that would slip through the cracks of her mind every now and then. He hadn't been there for any of it. And it killed him to think of it.

But every now and then, in a quiet moment like this, Daryl couldn't help but imagine it. What if he had been there for her? What if he had been there from the start? He'd had never had the chance to be that person.

He wanted to be there for her—hell, he'd been trying for so long—but sometimes he just couldn't help but wonder what might've been if things had turned out different. What if the world hadn't collapsed into chaos, and he had just been a regular dad, coming home to his little girl, watching her grow up safe? What if Sunny had never known the world that had made her so hard, so quiet? 

He could picture it. He could almost see it. He could imagine taking her out on trips, teaching her to fish, teaching her everything he knew, all the things he never got to teach her.

And then there was the guilt. The selfish part of him. He didn't want to take away what she had with her mom and dad, but damn it, he wanted it. He wanted it for her. He wanted to be the one she ran to, the one she would trust without question.

But that wasn't reality. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe he was better off not having been a part of her life before everything had fallen apart. Maybe if he'd been there, he would've messed it all up. Maybe he wouldn't have been the dad she needed, and maybe that would've hurt her more.

Still, sometimes he wished for it. Wished for that life he'd never get.

The bed shifted beside him, pulling Daryl out of his thoughts. He looked down at Sunny, who had shifted in her sleep, her small body curling closer to him. Her breath was soft, steady, but she murmured something as if she thought he was still asleep.

"I wish... everythin' was good," she whispered, her voice soft and fragile in the dark. "I wish you'd been there for me... for my whole life."

Daryl's heart dropped, and his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at her, his chest tight. It was as if she'd been living the same thought he had, like she'd been thinking about what could've been too.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. He had no answer. He had no solution, just this aching hole that had been there ever since everything had changed.

He didn't know what the future would bring, but he knew one thing—he would always be there for her, even if he couldn't be there for the years he'd missed. Maybe they couldn't change the past, but they could still make something of what they had now. Finally, he managed to respond to the girl.

"Me too, Sun."

.・. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・. .

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Honestly, this chapter was never going to exist until @theriseofsunshine gave me the idea on one of my edits, so ty bby🥰🥰

Also my bestie, @DaddyDarnel helped me with some of the ideas, tysm ml <3

A small snippet into a universe that never existed :c and also the last chap of bby Sunny AHHH