-
Sometimes, Peter Quill wondered about his friends on Earth. Well, he didn't really stay there long enough to make lots of them, but he tried anyway. Mom was always his best friend! Plus grandpa, occasionally grandma when she wasn't in the full mode of nagging. The puppy they adopted when he was four, what's his name again? Oh! And that guy! That long hair, not talkative, southern redneck…Daryl Dixon! If he remembered correctly.
He was the first friend Peter ever made in school. They did not hit it off right away at first. Believe it or not, the famous Quill was once a rather quiet, and shy kid. The only kid who beat him in a lack of vocabulary was Daryl, who transferred to their class in the second semester. He even spared a self-introduction, leaving poor Miss. Beth all red and awkward standing there.
The twist of fate came in the form of a stupid writing assignment. The topic was, not surprisingly at all, My Father. It was fair considering the last piece they wrote was about mom, there was no reason to directly skip the other guy who participates in your birth and jump onto writing about your grandparents, imagined siblings and cousins or some far away relative who you met only twice a year, right? It could be an easy task easily done: What he looks like, what kind of job he takes, a fan of baseball or football, how he met your mom, which park he takes you to on weekend mornings, will he buy you an extra ice-cream when you mom paid no attention…the most ordinary daily, cozy stuff, sewed with a plain slogan 'I love you Dad, almost as much as I love Mom.' as the conclusion. Get a safe B+ and, done!
Our great Peter was never a B+ type student. He worked truly hard and dedicated, searching magazines, re-watching videos, even stayed up for a whole night to draw an illustration. The next day he read the whole 12-page long essay, which was basically his episode guides of Knight Rider, ending with a tremendously touching announcement: Until now, I have never officially met with my father, but I am fully satisfied and glad to witness him fighting for justice and riding magic cars. I hope he knows that I know he is safe and sound. I love you, Dad.
The only student who received a lower score than Peter was Daryl, who handed in a blank sheet.
When the two was in detention, Peter whispered to the other kid, "I lied. I know David Hasselhoff isn't my dad. My dad is even cooler. He's a spaceman! Shhh, don't tell others." There was a hint of suspicion passed in Daryl's eyes, one minute later, he finally responded. "Wow, Cool."
It was shockingly slow, but appeared to be friendly, more than anyone else. That was why the next day, during lunch break, Peter found himself sat next to Daryl, greeting him in his most casual tone, "Hi, hello, I'm the guy who told you that I inherited from a spaceman yesterday. Forgot to mention, my name's Peter, Peter Quill. Do you mind sharing the potatoes? They seem…not so delicious while I'm in need of small talks so I figured I had to ask." Wordlessly, he pushed the lunch box over. "Oh, thanks, um, let's give them a try, then."
"Daryl Dixon, that's my name."
"Sounds not bad. Um, I have to break it to you, these potatoes…"
"Really bad, aren't they?"
"Why don't you warn me?!"
The boy angrily spat out the mash, somewhat surprised to see the other kid was actually smiling.
Aha, he said to himself, this is a beginning of a great friendship.
-
That was just a beginning of a regular friendship. They started eating lunch together, talk about random stuff came into their minds. Addressing each other 'Mr. Quill' and 'Mr. Dixon', boys thought it was mature and cool. They stopped worrying about PE class where you may need to find partners. Even considered signing up for the football team. Peter would bring Daryl to his house and enjoy his treasured video cassette of Knight Rider. If Meredith had the time, she would cut the boys' hair. Obviously, Mr. Dixon really needed the service.
"Your hair looks like so girly, Dixon. I can take you to the ball if I can't find a date."
"Shut up, Quill!"
They never went to Daryl's house. He never brought the topic up, anything remotely related to his family, with the mere exception of his older brother. Once in a while, like when the TV happened to show some program including bikes, guns or two people fighting each other, then Daryl would slip out a word or two: Merle has a nice bike. Merle is a hell of an aimer. Merle once fought against twenty people and won…Peter bets that Daryl kind of admire his brother, just have an issue with saying it out loud. His father was another story. In fact, for a long period of time, the whole town seemed to avoid any stories about the Dixons. They only knew that the southern rednecks suddenly moved in, living nearby the mountain far away from the others. The hostess never seen, the host always drunk and wasted, no clue of where the elder son was, and the youngest one stayed quiet and gloomy. Nobody ever visited the house, nobody ever invited them to parties. Old Bannon, who drove trucks, said one night he drove passed the house, hearing the sound of glasses breaking, a man cursing and constrained screams.
The words get spread out and rumors went wide. Someone said that old Dixon killed his wife and ran away, her ghost followed him all the way to Missouri. His youngest child walked around school with everyone whispering and poking behind his back.
"Mom. Do you think I should confront him?" Peter couldn't help but ask for Meredith's advice.
"Why? You want to befriend his father?"
"Of course not! It's just…hey, the other kids were all told by their parents to stay away from the Dixons. You don't worry about me?" "Peter, you've been hanging out with Daryl for quite a while. Has he ever gone mad and tried to stab you? That kid has been visiting our house regularly, and to be honest, he appears more polite and cute than you, Mr. Quill."
"Ha! I know it! You don't like me anymore! You like pretty Daryl more than me!"
"Don't be so drama, you know I love you the most." Meredith rubbed his head before bribing him with an irresistibly tasty muffin. "I was simply trying to tell you, that Daryl is a good kid. A good friend. Why would I separate you from your friend, based on some ridiculous gossip told by people I don't even know? That's totally uncool." With his mouth fully occupied, Peter could only give his mom a thumb up. Wow, his mom was cool.
-
Peter never asked about the horrible stories featuring Daryl's parents, unfortunately, someone just had to trigger the invisible bomb. He can't remember all the details. They were having a football game. Daryl got passed three or four guys in a row. One of them fell on the ground, stood up shouting Daryl pushed him. The two began shoving and pushing, then some other boys noticed and gathered around. Couldn't tell exactly which bastard initiated, and suddenly they were throwing dirty words on Daryl. Some of the words were unclear for them as a pair of seven-years-old kids but they achieved the effect anyway. And then someone mentioned his father, and mother. "Go back to the south, you redneck! I bet your father's warrant has been all over the entire State of Indiana!"
"Indiana is in Midwest, moron." "Shut up! Hey, did you watch him do that? Huh? You watch him kill your mom, or you were the one…"
He never got to finish the sentence. Daryl pinned him on the ground with his skinny body, skinny but powerful with such rage. Peter's original plan was to get his friend up and drag him away before the whole thing got too ugly. Before he could picture out an efficient escaping plan, he heard someone said, "Look! That's the Dixon boy's weird friend. I heard you were too awful to look at, that your father dumped your mom right after she gave birth to you?"
Boooom. End of the peace.
One hour later, two injured and yet honorable fighter stood by the playground, watching the dusk turned into night, neither of them dares to go home in the brand new 'suits'.
"He didn't kill her. It's bullshit." Daryl kept his voice so low. It sounded like he was trying to hold something back. "My mother. She was smoking. We all went out. The house got on fire and, and she's gone. That's it."
"Next time, could you please notify me before saying anything terrible? I need a whole box of chocolate prepared." "My fault."
Peter punched him in the less injured shoulder, felt their friendship had just leveled up.
"Do you miss her?"
"Sometimes. Not as much as I was expecting. My mother wasn't…like your mom, so caring and…I don't remember much, only that she barely managed to take care of herself. Merle told me that she had tried her best. Yeah, I think she really tried…I think she loved me. Maybe give her a couple more years, we will love each other better."
Peter had difficulty processing his words. There were times, and this was one of them, when he felt that Daryl Dixon was even more obscure and ambiguous than all of his teachers. Maybe one day, he will brighten up and get it all clear. The day hasn't arrived yet.
That night, Peter slept in his mom's bed, who was horrified to find him bruised but fully supportive after hearing the whole picture. He knew he was acting childish. He couldn't help it. Before sleep caught him, Peter begged Meredith to make a promise: She will never leave him behind. She will never die or run away, like Daryl's mother. She will be with him forever.
She said that she would love him forever. "I know that already! It's different! I want to hear you say it, say you will never leave me!"
She was patting his back, humming and whispering, in that tender sound of hers, I will always love you, Peter, always.
Finally, he drifted into dreamland, murmuring about how she has not promised yet.
It was probably because she already knew, or she had a clue, or some foresight that she couldn't keep the promise.
Adults are sneaky.
-
Daryl's wound healed so, so slow. When Peter was able to run and jump and doing silly dance. The bruises on Daryl's face hasn't fully disappeared. Peter tried to poke at one scab, used a wrong gesture and strength, ended up smoothing away the heavy bangs that almost covered his entire forehead and eyes…There was a fresh scar on his forehead, so fresh that the string of bloodstain wasn't fully washed off, that it looked like happened last night.
At first, Peter wondered if it was the senior boys of that football game, then he figured they would have come to him as well. Then, like being stroke by light, the well-spread rumor emerged in his mind: Dixons house, during the night. The sound of glass broken, a man's cursing and screams.
"Daryl? Did, did your father…"
"Mind your own business!"
"I was only asking! You're my friend and I was worried! If he beat you, you should tell us, tell the police! A father shouldn't beat his own child! It's wrong!"
"Since when you become the professional in father-son topic? Last time I heard, you don't even have one."
He regretted the minute those words spoke out. Peter could tell, from his hang open mouth and shifty eyes. He could tell he went out of control for a single moment.
Nevertheless, he had no right to be such a jerk.
After two weeks since their friendship leveled up by beating people together, their friendship came to a major crisis by beating each other. Thanks to fate, who chose to be merciful towards two seven-years-old kids and not destroying their friendship, instead it sent in an 'angel' to turn the whole thing around. All Peter recalled was that one minute he was still pinching and kicking his new enemy, and the next he was lifted up in the air, seeing the horrified face of Daryl, he was about to say how stupid he looked.
"You are beating my little brother, kid?"
Didn't recognize the voice. Never heard of it. Scratched, smoking, heavy southern accent, a hint of hostility and pure anger.
"He's bruised. You caused all of that, kid? Huh? You bully my brother?"
"Eh—"
He was smashed before letting the breath out of his mouth. Literally, thoroughly, smashed.
For a long period of time, every time when Peter Quill thinks of the word 'asshole', he will immediately picture Merle Dixon: Southern redneck, dirty vest and loose pants, the face with a frightening smile and the punches shamelessly falling on a kid who was more than ten years younger than him!
I'm still a child! A fucking child!
God, it hurts!
Finally, Daryl regained his consciousness and launched himself forward, upon his brother's leg, shouting at the top of his lungs. "It's not him! Not him! He's Peter! I told you about my friend Peter! We were just joking! Merle! Stop beating him!"
"Not him?"
"NO! He's my friend!"
"Fuck, why don't you say earlier?! He's a fucking child, I'd go to hell if he died of this."
Upon hearing that, the mentioned child whose eyes almost rolled over due to the punches, struggled with his last bit of strength, silently rolled his eyes.
-
Under Daryl's command, Merle took the two kids to a small clinic, to check if Peter had any bones broken, bleeding inside or concussion. The nurse at the front desk carefully eyed the three, saying that a signature from direct family would be needed. Peter didn't want to give his mom a heart attack again so soon, much less to say that she had a night shift today. Grandparents were still out of town for annual vacation. It seemed a bit late to call David Hasselhoff's manager and arranged his schedule. He had no choice but secretly plucked at the coat hang loosely around Merle's waist. "Could you sign for me, Mr. Dixon?" He lowered his voice in case the nurse caught them.
Daryl was plucking his pocket at the other side, mouthing 'please' and doing his best doggy eyes.
Merle sighed, put on his best fake smile, winked at the nurse. "Hand me the paper, hon. I'm…the kid's dad." She raised her eyebrows. "I looked shockingly young."
"I wasn't questioning about that." It was his turn to raise eyebrows.
Halfway through his handwriting, it occurred to him that there was another kid in the room. He dragged his brother closer, checking his face, unbuttoned his shirt, then roughly pushed him away. "I want you to do a check on my baby brother as well. Injuries, scars, brain damages, all that shit." "This one is your brother? And that is your son?"
"Yep, my own happy merry family, the fuck you care? Do I need to show you the family photo album?!"
"Merle! Eh, you, you have enough money on you?"
He cursed out loudly, threatened the nurse to look after them, he would be back in five minutes.
Peter did not need to know how he can get enough money within five minutes.
"Why don't you tell me your brother's in town?"
"I've been busy. Forgot to mention him."
"Wow. That is a guy you will never forget! Mr. Dixon. If you tell me what kind of brother you got there when we first met, I'd stay the hell away from you!"
"Huh."
"I mean it! Luckily we are just friends. If you were my girlfriend, this was called coaxing into marriage!"
"You watch too much trash TV shows, Mr. Quill."
They hold each other's gazes and both laughed out. It hurts since they both got bruises all over their face. Worth it.
-
The boys got their wounds fully tended, from head to toe, dressed in old Egypt style. Daryl was given some injection and fell asleep quite fast. His brother had to carry him on his back while walking Peter to his home. "I can go home by myself!" He felt terrified by the idea of letting Meredith see the three of them. "Shut up, kid, you're his friend. Darylina would bug me to the end of my life if I let something happen to you." "You mean if I wasn't his friend but just some normal seven years old kid, you'd be okay to let me go home in the middle of the night, all by myself?"
The asshole actually nodded, pretty seriously.
It was a fine evening. The weather was nice, not too cold or too warm. You could see stars through the clouds. Peter looked at the sky. His eyes subconsciously went below, and below, landing on the sight of Merle walking in front of him, on his back the boy breathed peacefully in his dream. The winds were blowing, or Peter imagined that, he imagined Daryl's shirt were blown, revealing the scars on his back. More scars, fresh and old, like ugly worms crawling on his tiny weak body. It was a horrible sight and Peter couldn't handle it anymore.
"Daryl was hurt!"
"Yeah, I saw you two fight." "You didn't! He was hurt!"
"I saw it."
"No! Somebody beats him! Your…your father hit him."
Merle suddenly stopped dead in his track and turned to face him, almost stepped on his feet. "Daryl told you?"
"No, I figured…wait, you know it?"
Merle said nothing. But Peter, clever Peter, got the answer from the silence. And that answer made him furious, very, very furious that if the guy was not carrying Daryl, he would immediately push forward and fight him like a beast. "You know it! Why don't you do something?! You are his big brother! Daryl always speaks so high of you. You! You…..how did you know? You watched him hit your brother?!"
"Fuck! Shut up now! Kid, I mean it!"
"Then how come you know? Come on! Say something!"
"You think my old man has just got the habit yesterday?!"
He shouted out the spell. Like some unspoken taboo suddenly broken and even a guy like Merle Dixon felt the sudden fear grasped him. There was one second, when his face lost the armor of looming anger and fierce, he suddenly looked younger, much more like a nineteen, or twenty years old young man. He looked like Daryl, the resemblance between the two brothers showed its most in their eyes, the shifty and uncomfortable eyes when mentioning their family. It was during that one second, Peter Quill realized something about Merle. Something that he had no idea how to describe back then, only when he grew up and met many more guys like Merle Dixon that he learned to conclude: There are these guys, a certain type of asshole. If you cut them open, you will find a second layer of asshole, and then you cut through, again and again, ripping off ten or even twenty layers of asshole, then boom! Surprisingly, you might see a kid inside the deepest, darkest corner inside their hearts. A kid who had been shaking out of terror for so long that he had to armor himself by being the biggest asshole in the world to stop trembling, stop getting hurt again.
"He beat you, didn't he?"
"Wow, what a fucking genius you are." He spat out viciously, changed position and threw his brother over the shoulder, continued walking. Peter ran forward to block his way. "You should go to the police, or you can take Daryl with you, and run away!"
"To where? You have any idea what I do for a living? Where am I taking a seven-years-old kid to? Bars? Drugs? cheap dirty hotels? Or the fucking army? 'Good morning Sir, this is my luggage, this is my brother. Can I put him in the laundry room? He won't take too much space!'"
"You are going to the military?"
"Fuck, my mouth!" "You are leaving again? Leaving him behind? Doing nothing?"
"That's exactly why I'm leaving."
"What do you mean?"
The young man made a weird sound. He was smiling, eight teeth full out of play, while there was no trace of any positive emotion in his eyes. It is the creepiest smile Peter has ever seen.
"If I stayed, I wouldn't stop myself from killing my old man. That will be a problem, won't it? You see, I've got a temper. I get violent easily. Eventually, I'd kill somebody…I ain't gonna start with killing my own dad." "…Why?
"A man can go wild, do terrible things. But you can't screw your mommy, or kill your daddy, otherwise, you had to stab your own eyes. Haven't you heard of the story, kid?"
He hasn't. Probably that was the reason he said the next sentence without any hesitation.
"If my father was anything like yours, I'd probably kill him."
Even Merle looked shocked. He actually took a step back. "Boy, you got issues. Stay away from my baby brother! I don't like him to become some psychopath."
"Then stay and watch over us!"
"I said fucking no, how many times you need me to repeat?"
"You don't even care about him!"
"Stop the bullshit! He's my brother, I've only got him! If I don't care about him, there's no one in the fucking world worth my attention!"
"And still you will leave him behind?!"
God! The kid's a stubborn one! His jaw tensed, fists clenched, had to take a few times breathing deeply to shush the fury.
"I ain't leaving him behind. I ain't a good influence on him. Hell, I ain't a good influence on myself! The only thing that's gonna happen if I stayed, is my brother watching me go to prison for strangling the old man…But I ain't leave him behind. When things turn better, I got enough money, I'd come back and pick him up. He's blood, I ain't gonna leave him even the world's going to end."
Peter quickly turned around and walking on his own. He heard Merle murmuring something similar to 'Why the fuck am I explaining to a kid'. He paid no attention. He just kept walking and walking, faster and faster. He had to. He couldn't stop. He's fucking scared to stop.
"Now what the fuck are you rushing for? I'm carrying someone!"
"Shut up! Liar! Jerk! A-hole!"
"Again? Huh, tell you what, kid, your parents need to teach you a lesson of…Oh, I got it." This time he was actually laughing, with 80% sarcasm and 20% sympathy. "Your dad, he's a jerk like mine, isn't he?"
"No! My dad….my dad left, he never beat me!"
"Whatever, dads beating their child, dads leaving their child, no big difference. What's the saying? The 'All happy families are the same—'"
"Will you come back? Really come back? And pick him up?"
He was not addressing him, or David Hasselhoff. He was asking that guy, the guy he never met.
"Hey kid, you look after him before I come back?"
"I hate to admit it, usually it's him look after me."
"Hahaha! I know it!"
"Don't laugh at me! You southern Asshole!"
-
Merle was gone not long after. Rumor said he toured around the town before he left, beat the shit out of several people, the senior boys who fight Daryl and Peter, the truck driver spreading ghost stories about Dixons, and even including his own father. It was a memorable tour. Peter and Daryl stayed in the same class when new semester began. They still had lunch together, now plus the new kid who sat in front of them and behaved cool enough to join the group. The three of them addressed each other with 'Hey', apparently 'Mr.' wasn't causal enough anymore. This year they might have a try at basketball team. During the summer, Meredith went to the hospital. She promised it was nothing serious, soon she'd be out and back in home. Every Friday, Peter took Daryl to the hospital, they stayed in front of the bed and finished homework before watching TV with Meredith.
In his memory, their last conversation was about Meredith, the end of the world and David Hasselhoff. Peter told Daryl the conversation he had with his brother. They both agreed that if any apocalypse did happen, Merle might be too high to find his way back home. The guy seemed exactly the type who's fond of chaos and anarchy. Not a big deal, Daryl would go find him instead. He's blood. No matter how big an asshole he was, he wasn't going to leave him behind. Peter then proceeded to tell him, that after a long period of consideration, he thought maybe David Hasselhoff had a better chance to be his actual father, more believable than some spaceman.
Memory cannot be trusted all the time. Their last conversation wasn't that serious. They were just having a heated debate on which girl was the hottest in Knight Rider. But still. There's David Hasselhoff included. Anything is cool with him, isn't it?
-
The next time Peter Quill wondered about his friend on earth, was during a battle, when he witnessed Yondu's yaka arrow flying through the air and taking down two rows of enemies in one shot. He suddenly smiled and said, "Hey! Yondu! I got this old friend, who's so fond of arrows. We used to argue about which one was cooler, arrows or guns. He'd be your big fan."
"Quill! Not a time for a chat!"
"I know, I know, it just came to me that…"
He gasped. Staring at the blue face of the ravager captain, mouth widely opened like a retarded child. He stayed that way till the end of the battle, when everyone was collecting their trophy. Peter stood there, still staring at him.
"I know I have a face of an angel, but what takes you so long to be amazed?"
"Oh shit. Oh shit, shit, I've seen you!"
Yondu started worrying if the terran boy hit his brain during the fight. He walked over and tried to check his head. Peter stopped him by taking a big step back, one finger pointing at him, shaking and rambling.
"Merle fucking Dixon! Southern redneck! Weird accent! That guy's punch, oh shit…I know it! You are his evil twin! You know what is an evil twin? That's someone who looks exactly like you but ten times more evil…wait, you are eviler than him…nope, he was such a jerk…Okay. You are both evil!"
"What the bullshit you're talking about?"
"I had this friend. And he had this asshole brother."
"And?"
And he didn't know the rest of the story. He didn't know if Merle came back or not. Maybe he did, maybe he forgot. Maybe Earth was in an apocalypse. He sincerely hoped that he went back.
-
Once in a while, Peter Quill wondered about his friend on earth. Now when he think of him, he will think of that big brother of his as well. Daryl's brother was the equally evil twin of his dad. When he get back to earth, they need to sit down and have a beer to talk about the issue. Oh, wait! He promised Merle to watch after Daryl! Shit, his punches hurt.
At least one of them got to stay with his family, doesn't he?
-
The boy who flew to space found and lost his dad.
The boy who stayed on earth buried his brother.