This was a oneshot prompt to me the other day. Now I've set and thought on it, I have come to the conclusion I can't just write it as a oneshot. It's going to be a multchapter. I don't know how long it will be or where it will really go. But I hope you still enjoy it. :) I'll get to what you wanted in it anyways.
Daryl walked through the cold and unfeeling hall way that would lead him to his home for the next year. His hands were bound tightly behind his back in cuffs, the feeling causing his shoulders to burn from being held in the position to long. He kept his head up though, he didn't do anything wrong and while they didn't know that it was all that mattered to him.
"Dixon, Daryl Mark" Called the guard down the hall to the booth holding another guard.
The door slid open and Daryl was pushed forward into the room and made to put his hands back further. His wrist fell free and he immediately brought them around smoothing his hands across the marks that were no doubt going to bruise.
The guard looked at him smiling, "Welcome to Georgia State Penitentiary." He chuckled and slammed the bars home leaving Daryl to his room.
Turning he took in the space he would inhabit for the next year. It was desolate and cold. A small cell with barred doors and no window confined him, with a small metallic frame with a worn out mattress and thin blankets make up his sleeping area. He already missed the smell of the woods and the clean deep woodsy air that came with it. Sometimes there were two beds if the prison lets you share cells. In his case they felt it best to keep him separated for the time being. In the corner of his small inhumane cell is a toilet bowl, unclean and overused, with no walls around since privacy is non-existent here.
Daryl looked at the opposite wall and set heavily on his bed still soothing his bruising wrist. He wanted a cigarette something awful, he hadn't had one since the night he got arrested and it was starting to really get to him. He felt edgy more than usual, he had unspent energy coursing through him. Looking at the wall again he growled knowing that you were allowed to put personal things on the wall. Mementos your family sent you, letters, pictures. The most he would get would be visits from Merle, if that even.
Daryl looked up as the guard stepped back in front of his cell. "Open on Cell 23!" He called down the hall. Looking back at Daryl, "Come on. Time to get acquainted with your surroundings."
Daryl stood to his full height easily looking down at the new guard. He was an older man, he had kind and inquisitive eyes with white hair. Daryl nodded and moved towards him silently.
"Not much of a talker then?" The guard observed.
"Nothing to say." Daryl grunted.
Daryl held his wrist out for him to cuff the guard waved him away. "Your here already, aint no where for you to go. You aren't in a max section of the prison."
Daryl followed him silently feeling the eyes of the other prisoners on him. Studying him and he kept the tension from his body. He had made his bed now he had to lay in it.
Coming to a halt at a gated section Daryl was made to put his hands against the wall and spread his legs wide. Hands slide across his frame checking him for any weapons. How they honestly expected him to make one in the small amount of time he had been in his barren cell he wasn't sure. Fuckin' idiots. He kept his mouth closed knowing that once it he did open it he didn't like to shut it and it would lead to more trouble then it was worth.
"He's clear." The guard said stepping back.
The buzz sound and the gate slid open. Daryl followed the same older man through the prison and couldn't help the curiosity that burned through him. He wasn't sure where he was going or what they needed so soon.
"Where are you taking me?" His voice rough from disuse sounded.
"Wardens office."
Daryl felt a scowl take his face but didn't speak just followed the man. What the hell they would want with him within the first few hours of being here he didn't know. He had scarcely seen another prisoner only having been through processing and then too his cell. Apparently when he first got here they were out in the yard.
Knocking on the door the white haired man waited. Daryl had kept his head down not bothering to look at anyone. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be the typical Dixon. Another man with a strike on his record and a prison sentence. He had done good til shit hit the fan, fuckin' Merle.
"Come in." A deep voice sounded.
The guard grabbed Daryl by the arm directing him into the room and into a circle a good space from the Warden's desk. Daryl looked at the plaque on the desk it read Warden Derek Huntely.
"Daryl Mark Dixon." The warden deep timbre met his ears.
Daryl looked up at his name being said and met the mans eyes. The man nodded to the guard as a dismissal and gestured for Daryl to set. Moving forward he set down but not relaxing.
"Your brother Merle Dixon?" The warden questioned.
Daryl nodded his head clearing his throat, "Yes."
The Warden Derek Huntely flipped through a folder on his desk shaking his head. "You aint got a strike one on your record anywhere but your brother has a record a mile long." He looked up at Daryl over his glasses, "I find it curious how two brothers are so different?"
Daryl felt the tension returning to his body and kept his mouth shut. He didn't like talking about his childhood or what he'd been through.
The warden tipped his head back and clasped his hands on the desk, "Says here your here for Felony assault."
"Yes."
Cracking his knuckles he looked Daryl over, "Wanna tell me what happened?"
"You have my file." Daryl looked pointedly at it before bringing his eyes up.
"I do. But I want to hear it from you." It wasn't a question but a gentle command.
"Bar fight that got out of control." Daryl was cutting corners and they both knew it.
"Is that so, says your brother was on the scene. But you were the one arrested. First time too." He challenged.
"Am on trial again?" Daryl snapped.
Chuckling he shook his head, "I just want to know if your going to be one of the ones who stirs the shit pot boy. Or if your gonna be like your record suggests..."
Daryl stayed quiet staring him down his jaw tense from clinching it.
"Your in general population for now. IF you are like your brother, then that can be changed quickly. I don't like people who start shit on my watch Mr. Dixon." He warned standing up.
Daryl stood up as well just as the door opened and he was ushered out. He followed the portly guard again feeling the tension radiating off him from the challenge in the wardens voice. He wasn't the first one who didn't believe how things had played out at the bar. He didn't give a fuck though, it was too late and he'd done what he done for a good fuckin' reason.
Stepping through a door, "This is the mess hall. Line up when it's called and you'll be taken back to your block."
Daryl stepped through feeling eyes on him again. He growled feeling his eyes hardened he'd dealt with worse men than this growing up. Stepping to where the patrolling officers directed him and was handed food. He set off by himself and looked down at the what the sad excuse for what he was going to be eating. Goddamn.
The mess hall is just as emotionless, with numerous tables and benches spread out evenly and orderly. It took several armed guards to keep watch while many of the prisoners here eat their daily meal. Any disruption could prove hazardous and further punishment would await one who did. It was a powder keg with so many men walking around feeling the anger and tension from being locked up.
Daryl didn't look up as someone set down at the table with him. It was a small man from what he could tell with a handlebar mustache that was infuriatingly stupid. He smirked around a mouthful of food as he looked at the man.
"You new here?"
Daryl raised his eyes brows at the man not talking just grunting and pushing his food away. He wasn't hungry and this wasn't food anyways.
"What you in for?" The small man questioned.
"What are you here for?" Daryl growled.
"Robbed a gas station. Needed the money."
Daryl took in the small man in front of him. He wasn't much at all, he was quite small and soft spoken. That mustache though had him wanting to reach out and slap the shit out of him.
"Excuse me names Axel." he laughed.
"Daryl." Voice terse.
"First time ever in the big house?" Axel questioned.
Daryl looked back at him and the look he pinned him with had Axel shrinking in on himself. "Did you need something?"
"Everyone needs a friend in here." he shrugged.
Daryl shook his head and felt the craving for nicotine race through his body again. If he could just get his hands on some cigarettes he'd be fine. He would feel less like he was going to strangle someone.
"What ya in for Daryl?"
"Felony Assault."
Axel eyed him for a minute, "Didn't see that one coming."
Daryl laughed, that was everyone's fuckin' response. He was the sweet brother like Merle was always saying. He was quiet took care of his shit and stayed to himself. Always cleaning up Merle's mess and taking care of everything. Look where it landed him.
"LINE UP!" All the guards called in unison.
Daryl stood up taking his trash over and getting in line. He could feel predatory eyes on him and knew because he was new that he was likely already a target for something stupid. Fuck 'em. He wasn't one to start shit but he wouldn't stand there and be a victim either.
Daryl walked into his cell again and looked around the cold existence that was his now. He walked over removing the stuff from his bed they had brought while he was out. His customary prison attire and basics. He grunted tossing it onto the top bunk and setting down. Swinging his legs around he laid back and crossed his arms behind his head.
Daryl let his mind replay that night over as he turned things around. There was no way to avoid what had happened. Merle and him neither one had started it that night and surprisingly was sober while they had played pool. He had been working on cleaning himself up and not drinking anymore. Daryl had made it clear that if he didn't he was done and would just step back and leave him to his own messes.
Shooting pool had gone good, they had played a few games and both were laughing and joking with each other. Shit hit the fan when Merle's ex came in with some new guy. Merle hadn't gave it much attention to her besides a nod in greeting before going back to his shit. But she was pissed off at Merle having dumped her and got the guys she was stirred up.
Daryl didn't remember what all exactly was said but he did remember clearly seeing the guy take a cheap shot at his brother. One thing he learned quickly growing up is Merle would always have his back and he'd have Merle's. He had stepped into intervene as two more guys tried to join the fight. Shit had got out of control just as Merle cracked a pool stick across the first guys face laying him out in the floor.
Daryl could recall perfectly the sound of splintering wood and a loud thud as the body dropped. Shit stood still for him and all he could think about was Merle just fuckin' killed someone. Of course both men had split and the scene cleared. There was Merle and Daryl standing at a body with a busted pool stick at their feet.
"Shut the fuck up before you start. They'll lock your ass up for good." Daryl barked.
The bartender stepped around eyeing Daryl and Merle, having known them their entire life. He was old school in that you didn't turn your back on family and you didn't rat. He nodded at Daryl and met Merle's eyes. "I'll back ya story boy." His accent washed across them both calming Daryl slightly as he made his mind up.
Daryl looked at Merle and knew, he knew that this was his last strike. He was done they would throw the key away for good and be done with him. He picked the pool stick up his fist clinching around it as he heard sirens roaring close by. Merle had looked at him wide eyed but Daryl stood his ground. They had argued until the cops stepped through the door. Merle trying to talk Daryl out of this telling him it wasn't his place.
Cops had initially went for Merle but Daryl had stepped forward still holding the pool stick while the man was being loaded on a stretcher found to still be breathing. He was cuffed and carted off before Merle could so much as say shit. He told them what they needed and the bartender Gerald Parkes had backed everything.
In the end his sentence was less for coming forward willingly and having witness' saying that he was defending himself. But in the end, he would always have the strike against him and been in prison. Not something easily over looked. But he had too, he couldn't let Merle spend the rest of his life in prison and for that he was okay with his decision. He owed Merle after all, especially after their childhood. He owed him and he would do this time not happily, but willingly.
Wasn't like he was really leaving anything behind. He knew his job would be there when he got out, and his house would be taken care of. All his shit would be handled till then. He was only in reality leaving Merle behind for awhile, there was no one else. Sighing he closed his eyes and let reality really settle in as they called lights out and the cell block darkened.