This is one whacked ass chapter. I've no idea what I just did. Probably what Daryl did. Pulled something outta his ass. *sighsss* Seemed so much better in my own head, but what'evs. I do not, nor will I ever suhgest transcendental medication. dangerous shit that. But for some reason. It's just what I saw his 'Zen' being.
So yeah. Thank you all SO much for all the reviews and favorites and so on! you're all lovely!
"Highwaymen." Belongs to it's respective artists and owners.
_.+._
They had moved since that morning.
Geeks had moved in again nearly tearing the place apart.
They were in another town.
But Daryl- Daryl was in another place, another county, another world even.
As he lay down on the lumpy lazyboy in the corner, he'd let his mind wander.
He'd started wandering the woods outside of Helene Georgia.
He could hear the sound of bird chirping.
He could hear a Mockingbird calling out a train call.
To his left there was a frog bellowing low and deep, to his right a creek- one he'd trapieased through time and time again as a child.
These were his woods. The place where he came to escape everything.
Where he came to escape pain, and torture.
School and Sharp words.
He wasn't sleeping-
Not really. He was in his body, but not.
It was a technique he'd used often as a child.
You'd be surprised where you could go sitting in one place.
''just as long as you keep tethered, son." His Grandfather had told him one day upon finding the boy spread eagle on the front porch, his eyes glazed over. "You can travel the world, climb the highest mountain. But there's a golden thread that keeps us where we are. Keeps our souls in our bodies. Let that break, you'll be lost forever."
There was a fox, ducking in and out of the undergrowth, Daryl crouched down- watching it's movements.
"Do you think he's sleeping?" a voice behind him called.
It sounded far away- nothing but an echo. An older boy.
He didn't think it was him though. Sometimes he came to visit him when he was away like this. The little boy now a grown man. But no, this was another man's son.
This was not Old Man Dixon's little boy with ruddy skin and hair the color of corn-silk.
"No." Another voice commented. This one belonging to a female. "I think he's just in his Zen Palace."
"Zen Palace?" the boy asked again. Daryl braced his face against his hand. His arm propped up on one knee. 'Just go away. Just go away.'
"Well yeah. He's always mumbling about how we're not Zen enough and stuff… and he's kinda like Sherlock. And Sherlock had a Mind Palace. So why not?" the little girl whispered. He liked this little girl.
didn't remember her name. Not here. Not in his woods. But he knew he wanted her safe.
Unwittingly. He looked around, worried that the Old Man would be there, lurking in the shadows.
"I imagine something with Pillows." She giggled, looking down at the silent hunter. "And a giant squirrel with a harness so he can ride it. And a giant rebel flag."
Deep in his chest, he felt the tug of a golden cord, calling him back to reality. He sighed, standing back up. Whatever it was that he'd been running from- this place where he was safe and warm in the sunshine…
"And all the stinky cigarettes he could smoke." Carl snickered.
"Daryl doesn't smoke." Sophia commented crossly.
"Of course he does! Haven't you seen the movies? He's like the redneck James Dean. And James Dean always smoked." Carl protested.
"What are you two doing?" Lori asked, walking over to the two who were leaning over the redneck.
"Annoying the crap outta me." Daryl sighed, eyes still closed.
"See! Told you he wasn't sleeping! He still has those funny lines on his forehead. He doesn't have those when he's sleeping."
"You creepin' on me while I sleep, lil' girl?" he asked, sitting up with a creak of his bones and the chair springs.
"No." She said quickly, eyes wide- her head shaking.
"Uuhhuuhhh." He drawled, waving Lori away as everyone settled in for the night.
"It's your turn, Daryl." Carl told him, flopping himself down next to the fireplace where a slow fire was smoldering.
"My turn to what?" he asked, nodding thankfully as Carol handed him a cup of hot coffee.
"Tell a story." Carl told him. "Dad was last night, Hershel the night before. So it's your turn."
Lori looked uneasily at Beth who shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know." He grumbled into his cup of coffee. "I ain't got any good stories."
None that they wanted to hear, or could hear. At least.
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Sophia piped up. "I bet you've done something! Or wrestled a hog or shot a bald Eagle after he took your hat!"
"Why'd I shoot something on the endangered list?" he asked. "That'd be just asinine, Eagles are too gamey. Sides, why would a Bald Eagle steal my hat?" he asked quite seriously.
"To hide his baldness, duh…" She stated back just as seriously- though with a smile.
"Jesus. Fine. Sit yo' ass down" he gestured next to Carl where he sat huddled under his blanket.
Everyone knew the stories weren't for the adults, that they were for Carl and Sophia, (sometimes Glenn and Beth and Maggie. ) They were for the ones who were still young enough to have some sense of hope in this bullshit world.
Daryl wracked his brain for something he could use. Damn these kids for wanting something actually interesting.
"The only two things in life that make it worth livin'-," he wiggled a forefinger at Carl "Is guitars that tune good and firm feelin' women" Daryl nodded smartly as Rick grinned.
"Ehm." Lori coughed.
Daryl furrowed his brows.
"Fine. Maybe not that one." He rubbed at the goatscruff (What Sophia called it) on his chin in thought.
"Long time ago. There was this old man. Cherokee. By the name of Salal, but most people called him Saul cause no one could pronounce his name. So anyway. He was talking to his grandson one day.
His name was Se lu- Si li gi,"
Sophia giggled at the strange gargled noise that had come out of his mouth.
"Hey!" he shouted. "That's a damn good name."
"What's it mean?" Beth asked from where her head lay upon her Daddy's chest.
"Corn Silk." He huffed, lips twisted up. "Cause his hair was so pretty."
Sophia giggled again, somehow watching Daryl flip his hair like a valley-girl was amusing as all get out.
Even Carol cracked a smile as she curled herself around Sophia's shoulders.
"So anyway- Saul was old old old. Had wrinkles up and down his face. He was so old, that part of him was here, but another part was in the afterlife. So one day. His Grandson asked him what he saw, So the old man closed his eyes and said 'I'll show you.'" Daryl nodded quickly as he shifted in his seat, hoping to get this shit overwith. "Old Man Grabbed the young boys hand and the young boy saw what the Granddad could.
Group'a men stood there. Different faces, different outfits. One guy stepped up,
"I was a highwayman.' The first man said, he was an older man. Sixties or so. Had a big nose and hounddog eyes. Kinda looks like he smoked a bit too much wacky tabbacky."
Rick snorted into his own cup, a small grin on his tired face.
"What's wacky tabbacky?" Beth asked Maggie who just shook her head, telling her later would be best.
"'long the coach roads I did ride.
With sword and pistol by my side.
Many a young maid lost her baubles- that's like, uhh. Beads, right?" He asked Carol who nodded.
"Lost it to my trade.
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade.
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five.
But I am still alive."
Carl was watching with wide eyes, Sophia in rapt attention.
"So the second guy steps up. Big guy with creepy blue eyes, and a big white beard."
"Like Hershel!" Carl laughed.
"Nah. Hershel's better lookin'." Daryl stated without missing a beat.
"Says- I was a sailor. I was born upon the tide.
And with the sea I did abide.
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico.
I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow.
And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed.
But I am living still."
Daryl ran his hand over his face.
"Third guy steps up; Dark hair, dark beard, big sorta dimples.
And he says 'I was a dam builder across the river deep and wide.
Where steel and water did collide.
A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado.
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below.
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound-" Carl gasped, his hands over his mouth. Sophia looked a bit pale, but held herself a bit stronger.
Daryl held up his hand- "But I am still around.
I'll always be around, and around, and around, and around, and around.
This time the guy waves his hand in a circle. Not sure what that was about." Daryl shrugged.
"But then this new guy comes. Last guy. And he's dressed like Spock or some shit. But he makes it look good." Daryl gave a sharp nod.
"Man was a chill bastard. Dressed in head to toe black, black pompadour, not a guy you wanna fu—mess around with." He shook his head, not unlike a dog. "then this guy- this man in black says- I fly a starship across the Universe divide.
And when I reach the other side,
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can.
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again.
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain.
But I will remain.
And I'll be back again, and again, and again, and again, and again."
"The point of all this. The old man said to his grandson. Is that everything you touch, everything you do- makes a difference. So don't be a fuck up and don't kill people for no damn good reason. Protect your own. But don't be a dumbass about it. Everything touches everything else. Those we love, they stay with you." He shrugged, putting the empty coffee cup on the mantle.
"That's it?" Glenn asked.
"All I got."
"Cool." Carl nodded, wondering why Hershel seemed to be laughing.
"Bed. Both of you. It's late." Lori muttered, sitting up.
"Gon' get me some sleep. Have some wacked ass dreams." T-Dog commented from his nest.
"Johnny Cash huh?" Rick asked quietly in Daryl's ear. A friendly hand on his shoulder.
"Ain't nothin' better than the man in black." He snorted ruefully.
"Way to pull it out your ass. The Cherokee was a nice touch."
Daryl brushed his shoulder as if to say 'you know how I do'
But once Rick had walked away. He let his expression fade.
"Night Daryl." Sophia called from her place in her mother's arms.
"'Sv no yi- Usdi." He groused, throwing the poncho over she and Carol's shoulders before settling in his chair for the night.