AN: I'm sorry guys, I really am, I always hated being the writer that leaves fics unfinished because as a reader I know how much that sucks. I'm not sure why i have been so blocked lately but it's making me insane. I thought I would try to write something that has been rattling around my head for a bit. I make no guarantees that this is not total crap.
Trigger warning : death penalty, murder, car crash
Let me know what you think
I do not own or profit from The Walking Dead.
Chapter 1
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Merle,
It has to end, someday soon. I see Daryl disappearing more and more every day. One day I hope to wake up and find him gone, like you Merle, but he won't. We both know that. Daryl was always the sweet one, never putting himself first. I fear he'll never leave me behind. I've made so many mistakes, stayed for too long, I never became the woman I knew I could be. It's too late now. If I leave now Daryl will never be free. What kind of mother would I be if I burden my son forever?
Mom
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Daryl should have seen it coming. The day it happened he really should have. He's always prided himself on being observant, of noticing the smaller things most people would not notice. Daddy had been acting stranger than usual all week, Daryl should have sensed something was coming. But he didn't see it coming, he hadn't been observant. He'd let it happen, and maybe that was why he was being punished.
Daryl had been twenty, shy as fuck, still living with his momma and daddy once Merle had hit the road, leaving Daryl and his momma alone, with the monster that dominated their lives.
Daryl worked at the mill, a job he hated but tolerated for momma. So she wouldn't be homeless, so she wouldn't go hungry. God forbid his daddy did any work. His daddy drank, that's what his daddy was good at, and beat on his wife and kids. But not so much anymore. Merle was gone, he'd hit the road thinking of only one thing; Merle.
Daddy liked to comment on the fact Daryl was smaller than him, but years of drinking had turned Mike Dixon soft. A beer belly had dominated his frame . A drunk, was all Mike was, and Daryl was twenty, and strong from all the labor that life had thrown at him. Mike knew that Daryl could lay him flat now. So wisely he kept away.
His momma was not so lucky. Many a nights Daryl would get home to find her face battered and bruised. He'd begged her to leave his daddy. They could go far away, he could protect her. The police in this town would do nothing. Sheriff Grimes was his daddy's best friend. They were trapped, unless they left, got away, started over.
Daryl knew his momma was scared, scared of the unknown, scared of being on her own. She should have known, that Daryl would never have left her. He stayed, when he could have left, just like Merle. He'd stayed.
Momma had convinced him to go hunting, the night it happened. Daddy was out, Daryl needed some time to himself she said. She knew Daryl, and he hadn't thought twice about it.
He'd come back to lights and sirens at his house. Momma and daddy were dead, shot by Daryl's own shotgun, he'd gone bow hunting instead.
It was as though life had gone in fast forward after that. Sheriff Matthew Grimes had been looking for someone to blame. Daryl's shot gun had been the proverbial smoking gun. It was a nightmare come true. Momma daddy both gone, a sheriff wanting someone to blame. Daddy was no loss, but how could momma just be...gone?
Somehow the sheriff had gotten it in his head that Daryl was a murderer.
His shit public defender hadn't stood much of a chance. Then Judith Cole (the sheriff's sister and conveniently The Dixon's neighbor) had come forward saying she'd seen Daryl running from his house that night. The old bitch had always hated him and Merle. Daryl had been nowhere near his house that night, he'd camped out on his hunting trip. Wanting to prolong the peace and solitude he'd felt in the woods. In the end it was his biggest regret, he should have come home that night. He could have saved her. It was on him, it was his fault in the end, even if he was innocent.
It hadn't mattered. He was a Dixon, he was white trash. No one had thought twice, no one had cared if Daryl was being railroaded other than Merle who'd showed up for the sentencing. The state had gone for the death penalty. They had gotten what they wanted.
Merle had been thrown out of court, the ruckus he'd thrown when the verdict had been read. He'd sworn to fix it for Daryl.
What the fuck could Merle do?
Daryl was resigned to his fate. At least it was the needle and not the chair. He only wished he wouldn't have to wait. But wait he did.
Years went by. Mind numbing years. Daryl was certain that's why they made you wait so long to be executed, so the inmate would suffer knowing his impending doom. Everyday he spent was another day closer to the end.
Sometimes he was angry. He was innocent, all he'd ever known in his life was the crap that fate had handed him. The reverend would come round once a month, wanting to "save Daryl's soul." He'd always told him to go to hell, if God was that much of an asshole that he was gonna send him to his death for something he didn't do, well then God could go fuck himself.
Merle came to visit regularly. He was more often than not a wailing mess, if nothing else it was funny and slightly embarrassing. Merle was the only person not giving up on him. He had sent his case file to every group in the country that was against the death penalty. Even to Rick Grimes. Daryl had scoffed at that.
Rick was none other than Matthew Grimes's son. Originally a cop Rick had gone back to school to become a lawyer, much to the Sheriff's dismay. He was working with a group that helped those who were wrongly convicted.
"I think Rick might be able to help us Daryl...he just needs more time."
Merle was old, his reflection through the glass, was that of a man who was bone tired. If nothing else, all of this had set Merle on the road to a better. Merle had gotten his life together, a good job, a wife. Merle had the life that Daryl could only dream of. Daryl was 33 a fucking virgin, never been in love, never been shown any kind of love when it mattered. Life had been a constant flow of misery, and in two months he was gonna die. A broken man, a wasted life.
He felt a bubble of pain in his throat. It was unfair, but he couldn't dwell on it. Soon, soon it would be all over.
"Merle...ain't no time. You know that. I'm being transferred to State in three days. It's over. You need to let it go." Daryl muttered, threading his fingers threw his hair. He was being transferred to the state penitentiary, home of the execution room, in preparation. It was over. The time had come.
"No...listen here...if you get you're chance...during that transfer...you take it...you hear me?" Merle huffed his voice cracking.
"What?"
"You take you're chance Daryl.." Merle whispered.
"Merle don't do anything stupid.." he started to say but Merle interrupted him.
"Daryl..you take your chance." He repeated then got up out of his chair and left.
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"I'm sorry Dixon I truly am."
Daryl nodded at warden Horvath as he was being led to the bus that would transfer him intimately to the end. It was the beginning of the end, and he was tired and ready to give up.
Warden Horvath was an all right guy, Daryl knew he had reviewed Daryl's file. Daryl strongly suspected that Horvath believed him. Merle had told him Horvath had appealed to the governor personally, but it was an election year, and the governor just hadn't wanted to hear it.
The bus was empty, other than him, no one but the two guards and the driver. They hadn't expected a problem. Daryl had never given them any before.
He pressed his face to the glass, watching the world pass him by. Absorbing every moment. The scenery had changed in the past thirteen years. It struck him suddenly that he would never see that scenery again. Probably never see the sky again. He would go straight to isolation when he got to state. A lump welled up in his throat imagining the forest. He would never see it again.
The bus was retro fitted to accommodate prisoner transport. His hands were shackled to the bar behind the seat directly in front of him. The leg shackles were only when he was moving from one area to another. His feet were free.
They were close now. In a more desolated area of the country.
The sound is what caught his attention. A resounding bang. Craning his neck to see what was happening, Daryl gasped in surprise at the seemingly out of control transport truck that was barreling out of control towards them.
A thought flashed through Daryl's mind, he wanted his death now. Quick unexpected, over. He wanted it, he thought as the guard were yelling panic. There was nowhere to go. The truck was going to run the bus off the road, and down a step hill. He wanted it now Daryl thought again as he closed his eyes and surrendered to whatever would take him as the blackness struck and the bus hit the truck head on.
