Hello all!
So I've been out of the fan fiction game for quite a while now, but have been recently inspired by the beloved Walking Dead and, more specifically, Daryl Dixon. This is just a little diddy that popped into my head. Hopefully it isn't too far out there of an idea.
Hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!
As long as Daryl can remember, he's lived in his head.
Not to say he wasn't aware of everything going on around him - his brother made sure he knew better than that. Know everything, Merle always said.
So Daryl would sit with his brother, quietly observing everything that happened around them. When they lived with their dad, he always knew where the liquor was, where the weapons were, where his father was. He knew where Merle had hidden snacks for them for when they avoided conflict. When his dad dropped them off at their mom's house for the last time, Daryl relearned everything. Where the liquor was, where the weapons were, where his mother was. He added where her cigarettes were, where the lighter was, and where the strange men she brought home were. Merle said they didn't need to hide the snacks anymore, Ma was too drunk and distracted to care if they raided the kitchen.
When Daryl reached hunting age, Merle taught him where the animals were. Where the deer liked to hide, where the squirrels stopped in the trees, where the ducks and doves would lay to rest at night. Daryl had always known the woods of course - there were bountiful hiding places there - but Merle showed him how to be a hunter. Only depend on a Dixon, Merle always said.
Then Merle got sent to Juvie. All of the sudden, the only Dixon Daryl could depend on was himself.
He retreated inside himself, further every time Merle left. Daryl was always aware of what was going on around him, but in his head…he had a whole other life. As a kid, his dreams were simple. He thought of what life would be like if he had a bike, how he would race so much faster than all the other neighborhood kids. Even Tommy Wilkins, who had a 12-speed bike that was so shiny it blinded you in the Georgia sunlight. Daryl would definitely be faster than him.
After his mother died, Daryl was passed around through the neighborhood. It takes a village to raise a child, they say. But Daryl always saw them - the looks the people gave him. Fathers would shake their heads, muttering about that dead-beat Bill Dixon, leaving Jenny with two little boys and leaving like they weren't his responsibility. Mothers would tear up looking at him, this poor little lamb who had no where to go, and no one to take care of him. They'd give him extra large helpings at supper, trying to get some meat on his bones.
The whole time, Daryl would dream of another life, in another world, where another Daryl and another Merle lived with another Jenny and Bill Dixon, both of whom loved their boys unconditionally and did anything for them. They'd have a house and a dog and game nights that he would pretend to hate. They'd have a turkey at Thanksgiving and a big tree at Christmas, instead of hunted scrawny squirrels and Merle once again getting arrested for drugs.
When the world ended, Daryl knew pretty quickly that he was one of the few made for this new life. He knew how to survive in the wild, on his own, no help from anyone but Merle. The Dixons joined the group from Atlanta, but not without a bit of fight from Daryl. Merle was determined though. Just trust me, Merle always said.
Then they came back without him.
From that point on, half of Daryl's musings were about what life would be like if Merle was still there. He knew his brother wasn't dead - only Merle can kill Merle, Merle always said. But things in camp would be different. Shane wouldn't be pulling as much alpha bull shit over Lori and Amy and Jim might still be alive. Daryl wouldn't have to keep his mouth shut so often, because if all else fails, him and Merle could leave this group. But by himself…well, you can't sleep and keep watch at the same time.
After impaling himself searching for Sophia, and being holed up in the house to recover, Daryl let go of the "Life with Merle" what-if that had been the theme in his mind for so long. He began to have different thoughts - sadder thoughts - as he became more of a part of the group. How once upon a time, in a different world, he might have been friends with Rick. Daryl let himself think of things that would never in a million years, apocalypse or no, happen. Things like Super Bowl Sundays and hunting trips with actual deer blinds instead of tree tops, beers lazily shared on weekends. Other-World-Daryl would be okay with having a friend in Rick. Shane would be the friend that Daryl disliked, but tolerated because he was part of the group. Dale would be the older one invited to everything at Lori's and Andrea's insistence. And Merle would be there. But instead of being the drug addict, prejudiced Merle, he'd be the mischievous, trouble-making jokester Merle. The one that would give Carl a BB gun for his birthday and help the kid plan pranks against his Uncle Shane. Other-World-Merle would regale tales of his teenage years over beers and poker chips with the guys, in a house not unlike Hershel's. Lori and Andrea and whoever else would station themselves in the kitchen, avoiding the raunchy stories and Merle's flirtations. After all, even Other-World-Merle would still flirt with his friend's wife, given the chance. Maybe Other-World-Daryl would have a pretty little wife, one whom he would pull into his lap when she walked by and would steal his beer on the way out, laughing about "boys".
When Hershel's farmhouse falls, though…
That's when Daryl lets go of his other life. The alternate life he'd built for himself as a defense mechanism burns to the ground with the barn. He finally has to face it.
This is reality. No more, no less.