Ferris Wheel Blues

I am so sorry for the delay! No excuses! I will lI kelt be posting more regularly. I've had lots of RL stuff on my plate. But no more! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for waiting!

Disclaimer: The Walking Dead belongs to its copyright holders and all that jazz.

Chapter 4

The crumpled bag was opened on the table amongst the litter of bottles an' trash, but it sat there neatly all the same like it didn't belong. An eyesore really. Daryl leaned his back against the counter starin' at the bag as he carefully pulled a small chunk of cornbread the woman, Carol, had made for him the day before. He'd stuffed it away in the ratty trunk at the foot of his too-small bed, knowin' well that he'd do well to hide it from wanderin' hands.

It weren't like things were shared communally amongst the carnies. Nope. Everything was an all out take what ya can without a second thought type of nonsensical bullshit trope. It might have been bought with the money you'd earned but it didn't belong to you. By any stretch of the word, not a damn sense of the word.

Daryl had learned the hard way the lay of the land in his new 'family' as it were. Nothin' was yours: women, booze, smokes, or the like. Taken at any time, as if there was much to be claimed anyhow. He'd left home with nothin' but the clothes on his back and a gunny-sack containing a few of his tools and a few bits of deer jerky he had hunted a week ago. The tools— they weren't his neither.

Pawned. Gone.

Weren't much that could be done. He didn't belong. He may have looked the part with his scruffy appearance and mean as a dog snarl, but he weren't loud and callous like the rest of 'em. Daryl quietly stuck to himself. Didn't need nobody. He clearly hadn't needed her, but she'd came to him all the same bearin' a courtesy to buy his silence. The fuck were he goin' to talk to anyway? Not like the rest of 'em liked 'im anyhow. Jackson didn't treat 'em all the same. Daryl was 'special', as all-encompassing as the word got. He still got kicked around like a sack a shit, but was often given the blind-eye to do as he pleased half the time.

He'd never understand why. He frankly didn't give a shit. Just as long as the rest of 'em left him be, he was fine with that. He weren't one for company and kept it as such. That was until she came along.

Daryl continued starin' at the bag with it's prim corners still intact where she probably took a good amount of her time figurin' how to fold the damned thing. Make it out like it were some important bag that was the end all be all. There was still a large half of loaf left inside and he weren't sure whether he should scarf it down or save it like he had been. Despite it having sat inside his trunk the past day or two, it still retained its freshness. Didn't go stale none neither. This here was real home-made cornbread like his Gran used ta make.

The thought stirred a bit in him. Made him miss his Georgia woods and his run-down home at the end of the road with its overgrown dead lawn and the rusted beat-up trucks on the side of the house still in the process of bein' restored. Their parts strewn about the ground waitin' to be put back where they belonged. It was the token red-neck piece a shit hovel. The bastard house at the end of the row.

All the neighborhood kids picked on 'im like any of it were his fault his house looked the way it were or the way his Ma and Pa would scream and throw shit at each other on their front porch at all hours of the day. In spite of it all, he missed that fuckin' house and all its shitty memories. At least it was some place to call 'home'.

Daryl hesitantly reached out to the bag not sure if it would snap at his hand for wantin' more of the soft bread that waited for him— that had been made specially for him. The thought tickled his brain some. Confused him really. Why a woman would even bother with his useless ass to make somethin' like that fer him, it was without a doubt a baffling thought. Before he could grasp the bag to take it back, Tommy came meanderin' by with his busted nose and thinning hair snatchin' the bag up without a second thought.

"Give it 'ere." Daryl barked stepping away from the counter, chest puffed, his stance tall, chin tipped up slightly. He weren't in no mood to be dealin' with this Mickey-Mouse bullshit. Not today. He already had a long day ahead of 'im and playin' keep away was not top priority on that list.

Tommy smirked at Daryl's reaction tuckin' the bag down into his baggy pants, cocking his head as if to dare him to try. "Well, don't be a pussy, Darylina. You want it? Go ahead an' take it." He chided through a tooth-rotted grin.

Daryl's lip curled and he huffed. He quickly deflated and went back to the counter, shoulders dipped low, arms folded across his chest. His steel blue eyes narrowed into a hard glare at the sickly lookin' man.

"Yeah an' you'd like if I did it too, you sick fuck." Daryl skulked dipping his head at the wasted carnie, lip curlin' up into a snarl.

He could swear he never saw Tommy eat a damn thing and he saw most shit that went on about the tents. They all thought he kept to himself and just went about his business, but he was highly observant. The man was as thin as a rail with lean stringy muscle showin' through paper-thin skin. Frankly, it was disgustin' to say the least and it made no sense how the man was still standin' with such low body fat.

He knew he himself had lost weight livin' and travelin' with the carnival troop. Food was slim pickin's and some days none at all. He'd noticed that overall he was less soft in the middle and gained lean muscular mass in his arms and chest havin' ta drag heavy crates around, liftin' shit, but mostly malnourishment. He wondered if he'd ever get to that point where he was as crazed as an animal wanderin' the grounds a shell of his former self stuck in this fuckin' hell hole the rest of his days like Tommy did. That's all the man's life was now: this carnival band. It was sickenin' to say the least.

Daryl sneered at Tommy before pushin' off the counter, eyes trained on him as he moved past him. Leavin' him be. Ain't like he were worth the time to be triflin' with dumbasses anyhow. He'd have enough of 'em to deal with since he'd somehow got stuck trekkin' the local high school auto-mechanics class through the grounds, showin' 'em what he did and the like. He hated kids let alone ones that had sass in their mouths like the drop in their balls made 'em men. Made 'em less inclined to think he knew shit about what he were talkin' about because of his affiliations.

Redneck trash. He could hear his Daddy's words in his ears. He'd never cared much for stereotypes but when these words were spat at him by his own flesh and blood the words bit and made him wish he could crawl into the deepest hole underground and never come out. His Daddy was full of harsh stereotypes. Hateful colorful words he was embarrassed enough to never repeat.

The mechanic sighed through his nose, pawing the ground with his feet. He wanted ta get this thing over an' done with so he could rest up for the evening festivities.

He hurriedly scratched at the scruff on his chin wonderin' where it was this high school class was comin' from so he weren't late. Daryl was always punctual if possible. There was never any excuse why a person should be late when they knew ahead of time where they were supposed ta be. It was only common courtesy from what he saw of it. He shrugged his shoulders removing the cigarette tucked above his ear. He lit it up and took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs for a moment before exhaling a steady steam from out his nose. He took a step forward towards the south gate but then stopped thinking better of it. Maybe he should just wait like he planned to.

The mechanic knocked the ashes off the tip of his cigarette before taking another inhale, holdin' the smoke for a brief second. He heard a scoff as if it were any o' their business he was smokin' then a scolding tone that immediately followed after. "Mr. Dixon, am I right?"

Daryl swiveled behind him so fast one could have sworn he had just been slapped. His eyes widened slightly chokin' on the smoke in his lungs. He thumped a fist against his chest tryin' ta get back his breath. He found the woman with the delicious corn bread from the other day standin' in front of him, brow slightly furrowed. Her bruising had all but gone 'side the light purple that she used to cover it with an eyeshadow that made her blue eyes stand out more vividly than when he first caught a glimpse of her the day before.

"That class is the reason you shouldn't smoke." She replied tightly tryin' her best ta not smile at the incredulous look on his face. "This is Mr. Dixon. He will be our guide for the afternoon."

Daryl glared at her as he pinched the end off the cigarette, tuckin' the remaining half 'bove his ear. He snorted at her formalities hatin' the way the sarcasm seemed to drip off her words. "Just Daryl. Mr. Dixon is my Pa. Or Dixon. Honestly, I don't give a f—" he stopped mid-sentence when he caught her own piercing glare aimed at him— darin' him ta finish his sentence. He'd seen that look all too often from his Ma when she were sober 'nough to scold him or Merle fer causin' a racket while she watched her soaps. He huffed realizin' he had a large group of kids watchin' their exchange. "Just Dixon." He grumbled stickin' his hands into his jumper pockets, kickin' up a bit of loose dirt. Who tha hell did she think she was makin' a mockery of him like that? Like she were any fuckin' saint with her shitty husband always beatin' up on 'er like he did. He shook as head in frustration knowin' he would have ta behave.

He cocked his head back up at her takin' in her appearance. Her cropped hair was wispier than normal with loose locks curlin' up at her ears and a light scarf wound 'bout her neck. The mechanic could only assume it were to hide any other marks her husband had left on her in the previous days since he had last seen her. He then noticed the garish bangles at her wrist and the creep of blue hidden by the chunky bracelets. This woman. He thought tryin' ta figure her out. She still smiled despite how shitty her life was. How was she still fakin' like everythin' was okay? Daryl turned slightly to glance back at the class of students waitin' awkwardly or talkin' loudly with another classmate.

He huffed turnin' to examine the crop that she had ta offer him. They all seemed ta have the same stupid look on their faces like they weren't sure why they were there in the first place. He wrinkled his nose, finding his hands settlin' at his hips. "Y'all are wantin' to be mechanics or what kinda class is this again?" He replied directin' his question to the woman. Weren't this class a mechanics course? Carol. Had that been her name, too? He couldn't remember, but he was sure that was what she had said. He'd tried ta ferget she had even made a deal with him. He wouldn't talk and she would just leave 'im be, but somehow he found that this weren't goin' ta be true. She was one of them women that couldn't be shook off no matter the distance. He found that a bit unsettling as he directed his gaze back to her.

The mechanic saw the way she swallowed to clear her throat, clappin' her hands to gain the attention of the class. They seemed ta stir but only a bit. He caught sight of a few with their phones out. Their attention stuck on the damned screen as the woman beside him began ta speak. He felt the urge to snatch the phones up and smash 'em on the ground so they were givin' the woman their undivided attention, but knew that weren't the best thing ta do. He shifted uncomfortably in place, crossing his arms at his chest watchin' her guide the class.

"Okay! Today class we are just going to learn a little bit of the maintenance that goes into keeping such machines going and perhaps if we have time, maybe we can all have a go on one of the rides." She announced her timid voice echoing loud with confidence toward the students. It seemed her talkin' got them to stop their fidgetin' and give her the attention she desired. He furrowed his brow not understandin' how she managed to command such a presence with 'em when they seemed to have naught a bone of respect in 'em. Daryl shrugged rubbing the back of his neck as she gestured towards him to begin the tour.

"Guess just follow me. Ah—" he paused not sure where he should be startin' when there was so much ta do in any given day. He reckoned the first place ta start would be with his normal routine of tunin' up the Ferris wheel. He motioned for the lot to follow him as he took long purposeful strides towards the attraction.

He heard her steady foot falls beside him and made him a little uneasy by how closely she followed behind him. He thought he heard her meek voice softly as she caught up with him. Daryl turned his head to get a look at her. "Didn't think you would actually go through with this." She said timidly her gaze fallin' ta the end of her scarf as her fingers fidgeted with a loose thread.

There it was. That small, fearful woman he had met days before. She was amusin' the way she let her guard down with 'im but also disconcertin'. It made no sense why she'd be so at ease to throw down her walls fer him. "Weren't like I had no choice. Just was told I had a class ta teach and that was that." He replied dryly not wantin' ta talk ta her. As far as he knew, he owed her no favors. He did as she had asked of him and that was the extent fer his deal with her. Could it be that she assumed he'd talked? Were those bruises from someone havin' seen her and her kid that night? Someone havin' told her shitty husband and she assumin' it had been him? The thought irked him and he felt his lip curl up slightly in agitation. The fuck was he doin' carin' 'bout what she thought anyway?

He led the class 'round the back of the platform the Ferris wheel sat on and he pointed at the chipped and weathered blue box the engine trembled inside. He thumped it lightly with the flat of his hand as he waited fer the stragglers ta make their way toward him. He unhooked his keys from his hip and undid the lock pocketing both items. He threw open the hood of the engine as he listened to its hum.

Today she was havin' a good day. 'Least from what it sounded like now. She could easily throw a tantrum and send his whole night inta calamity. He hoped that weren't gonna be the case.

"This is the Ferris wheel. Probably the most used attraction we have here. I'm the lead technician fer it and so it's my job ta make sure it's up an' runnin' each night." He drawled not certain what it was he should be talkin' bout to them. He still had no clue what kinda class it was she taught either. She hadn't said a word since she had spoken up after her schpeal to the kids 'bout their day.

Daryl looked to the woman for guidance but found she only nodded her head ta get him to continue. He shrugged a bit shakin' his head not sure what more he could say. He didn't know what most things did inside the engine just that he seemed ta know how ta make the damned thing sing when he wanted it to. Never really learned since there weren't no manual for the fuckin' thing. Jackson just shoved him toward it and said, "This better be fixed 'fore I get back or yer ass is gon' be sorry ya asked fer a job from me, ya Dixon bastard."

Somehow he had managed to figure out what did what by trial an' error as it were. Seemed that every 'know-how' had given up tryin' ta fix it. Everyone 'cept fer him. Daryl had never been a quitter. Even when he knew he was a licked dog he always managed to stand right back up and take 'nother hit or two before acceptin' defeat. Despite how his Daddy had whipped him good growin' up, he knew that Dixons weren't no quitters. Knee-high that shit was pounded inta him as if it made him more mean like his Daddy had wanted him ta be, but he knew he was different. Tried as his Daddy might, he weren't like his brother Merle.

Daryl had always been the disappointment, but Merle did what he could tryin' ta protect him 'till he couldn't take no more from their Daddy. Last he had ever seen of Merle had been near decade ago when he had gone ta join the Marines. Never did see him after that 'till he heard word Merle had been discharged fer punchin' out a Sergeant likely runnin' his mouth not knowin' who he was dealin' with. The idea made a lopsided grin creep onta Daryl's lips but made him think better of havin' the stupid thing too plastered on his face. He shook his head realizin' he was still standin' front an' center 'fore a buncha dumb high school kids. He sighed heavily rememberin' what it was he was supposed ta be doin'.

He did his best explainin' what it was he did in the mornin' with his daily tune ups and tests to make sure everythin' ran smooth later for the guests to come ride to their hearts content. He snorted at how easily people defaced what weren't theirs. He'd find names carved into the guard bar and the cushions of the seat shredded from likely knives or somethin' else that was sharp that them asshole kids brought with them thinkin' they were tough shit or some dumb bullshit like that.

With nimble fingers Daryl did his normal routine, he mumbled a few words here an' here as he did his check ups, which turned out that it was runnin' just fine— 'least for now it did. He frowned knowin' he would be back later that night dealin' with fixin' somethin' that went wrong with it. He returned his gaze back ta the group of students that just stood there bored outta their minds. What had he expected? He'd likely see half the crop of kids workin' stints at a backbreaking pace at some hole in the wall fast food chain. He figured the woman beside him had caught sight of his reaction and clapped her hands again grabbin' their attention like they were dogs. He chuckled a bit at this duckin' his head as he looked to his work boots a bit awkwardly.

"Well, I suppose that's all for the tour. We'll be leaving in the next hour so if you guys want it's free time to do as you will. If you want to return to the bus, the door is open." She echoed, a smile on her lips. Daryl had caught the flicker of pain in the smile; subtle but there— seen it all too often with his own Ma when she'd visit family and such.

There were too many parallels between her an' his family. It was hard to not feel a bit of sympathy for her. She carried herself better 'an he had most days. He wondered for how long she had to deal with the abuse. How long had she have ta try an' stand tall like she was now? He caught himself starin' at her as she returned his gaze. Daryl looked away rubbin' the back of his neck sheepishly scowlin' at the fact that he had been caught lookin' at her as he did. She probably thought he was some dumb hick with no common decency 'bout him with the way he had been lookin' at her. He snorted at the thought knowin' that it weren't the case at all.

"Thank you," she whispered so softly he wasn't sure he had properly heard her in the first place.

He cocked his head at her, not understandin' what it was she was thankin' him for. "What?" He asked fingers hookin' at the loops of his belt, hip dipped slightly as he adjusted to question her statement. He'd hardly been thanked for anythin' most his life and here she was tellin' him she was grateful but fer what he'd no idea.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt findin' her scarf less interestin' he assumed. "Thank you for not saying anything. I heard— this carnival wouldn't be gone for a while so I wanted to come by with my kids to say thank you maybe get them inspired—" Daryl cut her off, puttin' up his hand to get her to stop her ramblin'.

"This ain't no picnic and it ain't all smiles and fuckin' sunshine neither," he hissed givin' her a look that said she had just wasted her time. "You want these kids workin' like some indentured servant? Shit they be best workin' at some shitty fast-food chain with minimum wage pay." He huffed pacin' a bit like a caged animal eying her as he did a little irritated by her gall of such a thing. She might have meant well, but workin' here was one of the lowest of the lows in his opinion. It hadn't been the best idea he had ever had and the last mistake he would ever make with a job once he had repaid the debt he set out to do. That was for damn sure.

He saw the way she flinched at his words like he had slapped her again. He huffed knowin' that she couldn't help it. Just her nature as were his own. Not like they could change who they was in just a night, but he sure as hell knew he weren't no woman beater. Daryl wrinkled his nose at her in disgust. Was that how she saw him? An abuser? A man that would strike a woman— just ain't him despite his snarlin' nature.

"Why're you followin' me? You don't know me. I don't owe you shit now." He paused a moment in his rant to take a step closer to her. He saw the way she seemed to tremble, shrink away from his movements like he were sizin' up how he wanted to beat her face inta the ground. He felt the anger flare up in 'im at how judgmental he thought her ta be with them judgin' eyes that stared at him as they did. "Kept yer word. Bought my silence with food. The fuck you think I am, huh lady?" He sneered out of the corner of his mouth, eyes looking past her as he took a step back from her. He wouldn't give her nor anyone else that satisfaction. Eye contact. It weren't like anyone gave it to him anyhow. Why should he give it to this woman? He stopped his pacin' not sure what to expect or whether he should expect an answer of some sort from her. Fragile as she was, he knew she'd say somethin'.

The woman flinched again at his sharp words, head snappin' against her collarbone, shoulder drawn up high to shield herself from impendin' blows. He snorted, feelin' his brows drawin' down at the thought. Her eyes shut tight, eyes crinkling at the corner from past worries. She seemed to shrink at his words almost every step of their conversation. She cracked an eye open, settin' her sights on him. Daryl took a step back seein' the way she seemed to bore inta him like he weren't really there. He hated that look. It was like there was no life in 'er. Everythin' just gone.

His breath caught in his throat and he froze when she drew up from her curled in position. She took a step towards him, worryin' her lip like even she weren't sure that what she was doin' was the right call. Daryl stood all the same, dumbstruck by her audacity. She hesitantly reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. He flinched at her touch recoilin' his shoulder a bit from her. "A good man." She replied before droppin' her hand back to her side, fingers claspin' tightly over her hobo bag. She ducked her head at him, avertin' her eyes from meetin' his and walked away without another word spoke.

A/N: bThank you for reading! Please review! I do look forward to your guys' thoughts!/b