The First Time He Felt Accepted
He had lived his whole life in Merle's shadow. Five years older and about a hundred lifetimes cockier, Merle had already blazed a trail a mile wide through their town long before he had come around. By the time he was ready for school, all the teachers at the little local grammar school had already steeled themselves against him, just from reading his name on the attendance log. "Another Dixon," he remembered them sighing each time on the first day, with equal parts apprehension and fatigue.
By the time he was old enough to realize what being a Dixon really meant, he'd been in more fights than he could count. Against kids who wanted to show they were tougher than a "Dixon," against the younger brothers of kids Merle had beaten up along the way, even sometimes against the older brothers themselves.
By the time he was old enough to try to find work, he was turned away from every garage and warehouse in town, on the basis of his name alone. No-one wanted a Dixon, for fear he'd spend his whole shift thieving or fighting, or more likely, high as a kite. By then, with Merle off upstate and his old man God knows where, he had needed the work desperately. But he had understood why he was rejected without a second glance. Merle had already been through there, or they had seen or heard enough to know that any brother of Merle Dixon was nobody anybody decent wanted around.
He'd resented it, but also understood it, for so long that it didn't even seem to matter anymore. After all, he was part of Merle, and Merle was part of him. And fuck anybody who didn't like it. They were a team, and always had been, and always would be.
But for the past year, it had been different. For once in his life, it was Daryl Dixon first, Merle Dixon second, and after awhile, Merle Dixon third, fourth, then a very long afterthought off. Sure, Carol and Glenn and the rest of the original Atlanta crew had known Merle at the quarry but it had been for just a short time, and those frantic first days after the outbreak seemed to be a blur for them, just as they were for him. By the time they really started becoming a group, a unit, Merle was long gone.
And it was finally just him. They took him for himself, warts and all. When he fucked up and acted like an ass, it wasn't "Well, what do you expect from Merle Dixon's baby brother." No, it was him who fucked up, just him. And when he did something good, it wasn't "Well, Merle was always stronger, faster, better" or "Well, that's surprising coming from Merle Dixon's brother." It was just him that did it, just him.
Good or bad, it was just him. And as much as he had missed Merle, as much as he had tormented himself wondering what had happened to him and whether he could have done more to look for him, he had had to admit it to himself: it was nice. It was nice finally to be just himself. Not "one of those Dixons." Not "Merle's baby brother." Just himself.
But since Woodbury, everything had changed. And, as usual, it was all because of Merle. They had been accepted back into the prison group. But uneasily, and with nothing but suspicion. And now they all, even Carol, looked at him the same way they did Merle. As though the past year hadn't been for nothing.
It had just been a few days since they had come back, but he reckoned that he could cut the damn tension that hung in the air with a knife. And as usual, it was all because of Merle. Merle wasn't one to back down to nobody and nor was he was somebody to use any kind of diplomacy to ease a situation along, even though he had charm in spades. Unless his brother felt like it. Which, given Merle's behavior since they got there, he obviously didn't feel like it in this particular situation.
He knew that Merle was still pissed that he had forced them both back to the prison instead of taking their chances alone together on the road. But instead of taking it out on him, Merle seemed bound and determined to make everyone else regret not shooting them on sight when they came up to the gate. He softly mocked and teased Michonne every chance he got. He called out Glenn, implying that since the kid couldn't take care of his own girl at the town, he wouldn't be able to do a thing when the Governor came along. He took every opportunity to insinuate that everything Rick suggested was just going to get them all killed.
He wanted to try to make it better. Felt almost desperation to try to make it like it used to be. But what could he say? Should he try to tell Merle that Glenn - not that Chinese kid - had saved his ass a dozen times over the past year? That T-dog, who Merle still brought up loudly every day around the group to wonder aloud how fucking dumb he had to have been to have dropped that key, had risked his own life to make sure they all had food and then died trying to protect the prison they had fought for? That even Michonne, who he barely knew, had brought Little Asskicker the formula that kept her alive, then went with them to Woodbury to fight and now stayed even though the Governor's assault seemed inevitable? What was the point? Merle wouldn't have given a shit about any of it.
And what could he say to the others? Tell Michonne that Merle wasn't really mocking her when he called her a Nubian princess, that he just didn't know any better? He knew Merle was just trying to get a rise out of her, but it didn't matter, the result was the same. Should he tell Glenn that what Merle had done to him at the town was only the same thing that he had done to that kid back at the farm? That it wasn't nothing personal, and in fact, Merle had told him with grudging admiration on the road that the kid had showed a lot of sand? Glenn wouldn't have cared.
He just couldn't think of anything to say to make it better to any of them. Every idea he thought of and then rejected just sounded pathetic, even to himself. He knew he wasn't no good at this type of stuff. It had always been Merle with the silver tongue. Merle who people had listened to (when they weren't trying to kill his brother for being an asshole, that was).
So he did nothing. Didn't say nothing to no-one. Just tried to keep everyone separated and away from each other's throats. Followed Merle around just as dogged as a tick, trying to make sure his brother didn't piss anyone off too much to the point that the group would throw them both out, while all the while making sure no one got close enough to attack Merle in a rage for some dumb ignorant shit he said.
And caught between them - Merle and all the others - he felt more alone than he ever had in his life. He knew that Merle couldn't understand why the hell they were staying with the prison group like a bunch of lambs waiting for the slaughter. And he knew that everyone else wondered why he had brought Merle back there after all the shit he had done dating all the way back from Atlanta up through Woodbury and now to the prison.
But he felt trapped. He couldn't leave the prison, but he also couldn't leave Merle. And as much as he tried to fight it, it felt like he was a little boy again, following along behind in Merle's footsteps, good and bad, judged by how everyone viewed his brother, and no longer looked at for himself. At least growing up, he had known what to expect. But now? After being a part of the group and now feeling that all fade away around him every passing day, he felt totally adrift.
Until that day.
He had gone to the upper cell where he had been storing Merle's and his things. Figured he'd pull some supplies together and take Merle out on a hunt. Anything to get him away from the others for awhile.
He was still inside the cell when he heard Rick come up the stairs and call to Carol. He stilled and strained to hear them down the hall from his cell. She said something too quiet for him to hear and then laughed softly, and when Rick joined in, he resisted the urge to step out of the cell to see what the hell they were doing together. Jesus, he had only been gone a few days but it seemed like the two of them had formed a little unit. One that left him out.
After the tense moment in the courtyard when he and Merle had come back, Carol had come to find him and say welcome back. But it had felt all wrong. When he had left her after just having found her in the tombs - was it only a few days that had passed? - she had twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him close and kissed him. He had spent the whole march to Woodbury and the days afterwards thinking of her and that kiss and wondering what to say when he got back. And then when he did, she had all but ignored him in the yard, then greeted him like he was someone she had just met in the cell.
And Rick? He seemed like he was holding on by a thread. He needed help. But instead of looking to him, the past couple days he had instead been coming across him and Carol, standing close together, talking softly, holding the baby between them. It just felt like he had been pushed out. And, as usual, it was all because of Merle. If he had never left Rick and Glenn and Maggie on the road...if he had never found Merle...maybe it would all be different. Instead, it was turning out just the way it always had in the past.
Rick's voice interrupted his thoughts. "We need more weapons and ammo if we're going to fight off anything coming from Woodbury." He heard Carol murmur a reply, then Rick continued, "I'm thinking of heading back home, I mean, to where me and Carl and Lori…" Rick stopped abruptly, then started again, in a stronger voice. "Shit, I mean, I left a damn near arsenal back at the sheriff's station. If I could make it there, get what we needed, we'd be a helluva better off than we are now."
She didn't speak for awhile, and he knew that she was thinking about Rick's idea. Considering it carefully, weighing it, the way she always did. He found himself leaning forward to hear what she would say.
"Then you should go. As soon as possible." He wasn't surprised at her answer. Despite how gentle and kind she was, she was a realist. He had heard what she had said to Andrea about going back to the town. She would do what it took to protect them all, and she recognized and supported the same thing in the others.
Rick hesitated, then he heard him continue, "I'm worried about leaving. I want Michonne with me, but I can't take Daryl without Merle, and it's asking for trouble to have Michonne and Merle along together, given their history...But I don't want to leave Merle here with Glenn and Maggie and you…" Rick trailed off, and he felt himself flush and clench his fists. Goddammit, did everyone still think that Merle was some kinda animal to attack the people at the prison, but most of all, that he would stand by and let Merle hurt any damn one of them?
The two on the landing were silent for a long while, then Carol spoke again, "Seems like there isn't much choice."
"No," Rick agreed, then continued, "I guess what I'm asking is, what do you think of leaving Merle here?"
"He won't go back to Woodbury, if that's what you mean. He'd never leave Daryl."
"No," Rick agreed, "but what I mean is, what do you think about leaving him here with you all? I mean, you know him better than me. You knew him for days back at the quarry. I met him for ten minutes when he was high out of his mind a year ago." He paused, "You're the only one I can ask. Carl was too young back then. Glenn's too angry now. I need your advice - is it safe to leave him?"
He heard her pause again for the longest time. His heart was in his throat to hear her answer.
She finally spoke. "Merle was an asshole back at the quarry. Seems to still be now. But he wouldn't hurt one of us without a reason. Which he's lost now that he's thrown in with us against the Governor. And he wouldn't do anything to hurt Daryl."
Her voice was dry and clinical, but then it changed, and with sudden heat she continued, "But none of that really matters, Rick. Merle doesn't matter. It's only Daryl who matters. We need to do whatever we can to keep him here. He's one of us. And he needs Merle. So we need Merle."
Rick was silent. "Yeah. That's right," he agreed. Then, "I'll take Carl and Michonne and leave tomorrow. I'll let Daryl know he's in charge while we're gone."
He heard their steps as they walked down the stairs to the others and he sagged against the wall, letting out the breath he had been holding. It would be okay. No matter how much ground he still had to make up with Rick and Carol, nothing fundamental had changed between the three of them. They still wanted him. Even despite Merle. They accepted him.
It felt like coming home.
A/N I have been on such a hiatus over the summer, equal parts vacation and total writer's block! I couldn't think of how to continue and also keep this story somewhat true to the show so I just shut down! However, the promos for the new season have made me excited again, so hopefully, this is a good try to get back into the swing of things!