"What's in the bag, Fillip?
Chibs chuckled as his gloved fingers traced the small swatches of fabric protected by a plastic sandwich bag.
Memories. He wanted to say as he opened the tiny bag from its seal. "A gift."
Daryl took in the sight of the two small pieces. He slowly sat down beside the man who was now stroking his beard. It had been tinged with more grey in recent months, a combination of age and post -apocalyptic stress. He let his eyes wander in the direction of Chibs' gaze. A dozen or so walkers pressed against the prison fence just as Glenn and Maggie skewered two through their foreheads.
"For who?" Daryl asked as the former Son sealed the bag and tucked it into his cut's side pocket.
"You." He had gotten away with calling Daryl a boy for long enough. The man was only a few years younger than he was. "For your cut."
Daryl glanced down at the pieces more carefully. He swallowed as he took them both in from Chib's outstretched hand.
A scaled version of the Reaper on his back and a small rectangular piece with SAMCRO restitched beamed back up at him.
"The Reaper was from a Lad from Queens..." He smiled sadly and Daryl searched through the list of names the Scot had told him after a night of drinking. "Had a mohawk and tattoos on either side of it."
Juice. Daryl nodded as Chibs pressed his palm to his temple.
"The other is from my President." Chibs chuckled as he turned to face Daryl,"He tried to do the right thing for all of us..."
Daryl smirked briefly before Chibs pulled out a tin, "Let me see your cut..."
The hunter tensed for a moment before he shrugged it off and handed it over. A haunted silence waded between them as Chibs sewed the patches on. The reaper on the beneath the wings and the other over the portion that would cover Daryl's heart. He tried to to read to far into the sentiment.
"There." it came out choked as he helped Daryl back into the cut. "Welcome Brother."