AN: Here's my next oneshot, or as I like to call it 'My Practice for writing Merle Dixon'. This is just something I thought could fit into the Walking Dead timeline and showcase Daryl and Merle's sibling relationship. In case you didn't read my other two oneshots, the Dixon's are gonna be important characters in an upcoming story of mine, so I need the practice.
This takes place in Season 3 while Rick, Carl, and Michonne are out getting guns in 'Clear'.
I'm gonna do a few oneshots before I delve into that story. Make sure I gotta a handle on the big characters first.
Anyways, enjoy the oneshot
Lost Wish:
The sun was beating down his skin, his form straight like a narrow dirt road as he held an AR-15 in his tense hands. Crossbow slung over his back, Daryl kept a steady watch around the vicinity for any sort of disturbance as he stood in the guard tower. Other than the lone Walker or two, things were quiet. Whether that was good or bad was another question in of itself.
Daryl blinked and turned his head when the clouds adjusted away from the sun, letting another ray of light peer down and temporarily blind him. Grumbling, he readjusted his hold on his assault rifle as he looked in a different direction; one where the sun wasn't constantly working to blind him.
This was not what he expected.
This whole deal with the Governor. Finding the prison was Daryl's foolish hope that maybe they could do something else with their lives. Not having to worry about Walkers all the fuckin' time and actually live a little bit.
But since finding the damn place, it's been one bad day after another goddamn horrible one. Maybe the road wasn't as forbidden a suggestion as the others had been saying it was.
He felt something cold touch the back of his head.
"Take it easy, son," a way too familiar voice said to him. "Ain't nobody gotta get hurt here."
Daryl didn't move. Instead, he just growled as the man behind him laughed, whatever was pressed to his head lifting away.
"Fuck off, Merle." He growled to his brother, who laughed again as he walked into Daryl's line of sight. "Pointing a fuckin' gun at me like if we were kids." He looked away. "Goddamn idiot."
"Hey, it wasn't loaded..." Merle defended his poorly thought of actions. Daryl spared no glance as Merle continued. "Least I think it isn't."
"That's so reassuring," Daryl sarcastically said, still not looking to his brother. "What if I shot you?"
"I'd be sad that you shot me," the grin was practically in his words as he spoke. "Talk the talk all the time with empty words and you go and actually do it? I'd be very displeased."
"And dead." Daryl added.
"I made it out of Atlanta with one hand, bleeding out, and with no help. A gunshot ain't gonna kill me, Baby Brother."
Daryl rolled his eyes, but spared no further words to his brother. Merle didn't continue the conversation, edging out and leaning across the railing of the guard tower, the 'empty' revolver he pointed at him in his one hand.
"Why're you up here pissing me off?" Daryl just had to ask. He actually enjoyed the quiet that he had once he came up here. Anywhere Merle went, quiet was just a lost cause and a pipe dream.
Merle shrugged. "Them looks I've been getting from Bo-Peep and Chinaman-"
"He's Korean." Daryl tiredly corrected, remembering when he and Merle were at the river bank.
"And Chinaman are really staring to piss me off," Merle continued, ignoring Daryl's correction. "I would like to be somewhere for five seconds without someone looking like they're just about to shoot me." He explained.
"You don't have to be with me for that." Daryl argued. Though he missed his brother very much during their separation, Daryl didn't wanna be with him every five minutes. Their time alone when he splintered off showed him just how different they both were. He needed some time to think about how to fix that. Fix it so they can be comfortable with each other again.
Well... As comfortable as they could be with each other.
"Yeah, well... I haven't been able to screw around with you in months." Merle grinned. "Time to make up for lost time, Darlina."
"I'm just oozing excitement." Daryl deadpanned, which made Merle holler in laughter. "Keep your voice down."
"Walkers ain't gonna tare down that fence. Too damn sturdy." Merle waved it off. Daryl sighed, which made Merle smirk a bit more. "Man, they sucked the fun right outta you. What happened to the days you would react to everything I did?"
Daryl gave a lift of the shoulders, doing his best to do his job on watch duty while having the torment of Merle's remarks enter his ears. He couldn't think of a response to Merle's question, no matter how stupid the question was and lack of an answer it actually needed. He was curious though. When had he stopped feeding into Merle's bullshit?
"Guess you just answered that." Merle gave a disgruntled sigh as he placed his 'empty' revolver in the confines of his pants. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Damn shame." He shrugged, lifting the pack open and weaving out a single cigarette. Placing the drug into his mouth, he held the pack to Daryl. "Darlina..."
Daryl turned to see the pack held out to him. He immediately felt temptation lace through his skin as he stared at the familiar crappy brand of cigarettes. He remembered Merle introducing them back when he was fourteen or so, and Daryl had been a smoker since. His hand was itching to move from the butt of the rifle to the cigarette pack.
"You gonna take one or am I looking like a jackass for nothing?"
Daryl's swipe of the pack was his response. Merle let a winning smile cross his face. At least he had won over Daryl with the cigarettes. At least that didn't change.
"Got a light?" Daryl asked, cigarette already in his mouth.
"Need to ask?" Merle cracked as he pulled a yellow zippo lighter. He lit his own cigarette before lighting Daryl's. The two stayed in silence as they each enjoyed their relaxing, and well deserved, cigarette.
Daryl welcomed both the silence and his cigarette. Right now, standing with Merle and just reducing his nicotine withdrawal was probably the best he felt in days. There was no Governor; no Walkers; and no death. Just him, his brother, and drugs.
Shit, it was old times all over again... And in a weird sort of appreciation, Daryl welcomed it.
"So..." And Merle just killed it. "You know what today is?" The low tone of his suggested that it was something bad or depressing.
Daryl took a long drag of his cigarette. He knew, which was in part why he had decided to come up here to be alone. He wanted his head clear. "Yeah..." He blew the smoke out, showing his expertise by not coughing. "I know."
Merle gave a simple nod of the head as he held his cigarette between his two fingers. "Mama died today." He reminisced.
Daryl nodded. He remembered very clearly the flames that surrounded their house, which forced him, Merle, and their pop's to go to some shithole of a cabin in the woods. The sight of his mother burned down to nothing haunted him, even all these years later. Every anniversary just made it harder to forget.
"Least I think it's today. You're folks calendar is different from Woodbury's. Could be right, could be wrong."
"I'm sure we're right." Daryl explained.
"Nice confidence, boy." Merle cracked, replacing his cigarette by his lips. He stared at the now annoyed face of his little brother. "There's the Daryl I knew."
"Shut up..." He sighed, which caused a temporally winning smirk to appear on Merle's face. They stayed silent again, both just taking in both the relaxing sight of the woods and the gruelling sight of the Walkers.
Like before, Merle killed the silence. "She left." He said, his hand tightening around his cigarette. It wasn't enough to crush it, just enough to display Merle's frustration.
Daryl saw this coming. Merle had never been too good at masking his anger towards their mother for 'abandoning' them. Every year before Merle left and every year after meeting up, it was the same anger resurfacing.
"She didn't leave. She was taken."
"By her actions." He countered quickly and smoothly, further showing the signs of experience with arguing about this subject. But Merle wasn't the only one who was quick to counter.
"Shit happens, Bro." Daryl shrugged. "You know that."
Merle frowned. "She left us. Left us to deal with Dad alone." His voice didn't crack. Merle was too hardened by his life's events to cry or sadden about anything. Daryl could only tell he was frustrated by knowing him for years. Anyone else would assume Merle was just angry.
Daryl might've regularly had to deal with Merle's stupidity prior to this apocalypse, but he grew to somewhat look forward to it. Only because this conversation showed that his brother still had emotion under him that wasn't anger or stupidity. Peeling his brother's layers gave Daryl comfort, knowing that he wasn't alone in that regard.
"What's important is that we made it." Daryl looked at Merle for this part, to which the elder Dixon looked back. "We made it and got away from that shit. We don't have to worry 'bout the old man anymore." Daryl had watched his dad die when this outbreak began. Though he had wished many times that his dad would die when he was a kid, actually seeing it happen crushed him. No matter what had happened, it was still his pa. "We're free. We're survivors."
Merle shrugged. "Yeah, sure."
Silence followed, leaving Daryl and Merle to go over what they just said and heard. Merle, though he would never admit it, was proud of Daryl's words. His baby brother had grown, and in ways had become stronger than him. This crew, though they cost him a hand, molded Daryl into the person Merle knew was always there. He wouldn't thank them though. Would be too much work.
He would however work to make sure that his thanks got across somehow. He would start by helping them kill the Governor. Merle could give two shits that Phillip tried to kill him. He tried to kill Daryl too, however. That shit was not okay with Merle.
"Merle..." Daryl's voice was gruff, smoke exiting through the cracks of his parted lips as he finished his drag.
"Yeah..." Merle's tone was uninterested, but his posture as he focused his eyes on Daryl and not his cigarette said anything but.
Daryl paused for a moment, letting the rest of the smoke leave his throat as he took the cigarette away from his lips. Staring at the smoke that was dissolving into the air, his words came out:
"Don't leave..."
Merle swore he heard a crack in Daryl's voice. Swore he saw a crack in Daryl's normally steel induced fatigue. Swore he saw a crack into Daryl all the way back when they were kids; before Merle left to get away from their father.
Hell, Daryl said the exact same thing in the exact same way:
'Don't leave...'
Only difference was the tears were not present. Daryl must've ran out long time ago.
Merle's answer last time had been a very troubled and regretful 'Sorry brother.' He had no choice last time but to leave. It was better for the whole family if he, the bad one, the criminal, just left.
This time? He had a choice.
"I ain't going anywhere, Daryl." He said his name, knowing he had to for this instance. Daryl simply nodded, but Merle's keen eyes saw the workings of a smile. Or was it a smirk? Whatever the hell it was, Daryl seemed to like the answer. So did Merle.
This time, things would be different. This time, they would fight together. This time, he wouldn't abandon Daryl.
This time, he would protect him.
Like he should've done years ago.
End of Lost Wish
Merle, you bastard! Why'd you die!?
I really enjoyed writing this. As a big brother myself, it was not as difficult to get inside Merle's head on his feelings towards his brother. It really sucks we didn't get to see that relationship on the show much.
Hope you guys liked it. I would greatly appreciate feedback. If there's a character besides Daryl I wanna know I got right, it's Merle.
Have a nice day!