Opening his eyes slowly, Daryl lay silent and still, soaking in the peaceful silence of the house. A cool draft swept through the room, causing him to pull his quilt more tightly around his shoulders. A quick glance at the shaded window told him that it was still early-very early. The sun had not yet risen. Sighing deeply, he snuggled deeper into the bedclothes and pondered his next actions.
Was it too early? What would happen if he rose now and went downstairs? Would the rest of the family be angry with him? Had HE come? Well, maybe not "HE" but Christmas? Had Christmas come? He hadn't heard anything, but then again, after tossing and turning in excitement for nearly three hours, he had finally fallen into an exhausted slumber, helped along by his numerous activities the day before. Even as he had slept, though, his mind was awhirl with magical dreams of what was to come.
Deciding to chance a quick look, Daryl threw back his bedcovers and sat up, bracing himself against the coolness of the room. After living his entire life in Georgia, he was struggling to acclimate himself to the colder weather here in northern Virginia. Perched on the side of his bed, his feet searched the cold floor for his boot. Finally found and donned, Daryl sighed in contentment as the warmness spread through his feet. Reaching down to the end of his bed, his hand searched for his robe in the still-near darkness. Finding the heavy flannel robe, he pulled it towards him and stood, surrounding his body with its toasty warmness and smiling wryly to himself at the fact that he was wearing a flannel robe! It had become his secret guilty pleasure, the soft, warm material encasing him in its folds something to look forward to after a tiring day of killing walkers.
Standing silent and still for a moment he gazed at the wall in front of him as he pondered his current situation. Never in a million years would he have ever imagined himself in house like this. Hell, he had never even been in a neighborhood like this! And now he was living in one, robe and all. Laughing quietly to himself as he pulled the robe tightly around himself, he remembered the day Rick returned from a run with the robe and slippers, handing them over to him with that little half smile of his, as if he knew damn well what his friend's reaction to the items was going to be, but hoping against hope he'd accept them anyway. And accept them Daryl did, with no intention of ever using them.
But then the weather had turned cold, much colder than the Georgia weather he was used to. And the night came when all his clothes were either dirty or in the wash, thanks to Carol. Cursing under his breath as he stalked through the house, he'd realized that he had no choice but to wear the robe. Well, either that or walk around half naked and he certainly had no intention of doing that! So wear it he did. And in doing so he realized that he had never worn anything quite so comfortable. He loved the feeling of the warm softness against his skin, though he'd never admit that to anyone. Now, two months later, it was habit to throw it on when rising from bed. Just the robe, though. No matter what, he wouldn't wear the slippers!
Stepping softly, Daryl padded towards the door, stopping only to tie the sash on his robe and pull it even closer around himself. Reaching the door, he turned the knob slowly, pulling it open and praying it wouldn't creak or give off any other accompanying sound which might give him away. Opening it all the way, he stopped on the threshold and listened. Night sounds, that's all he heard. The deep rumble and occasional sputter from behind Rick's door, a sure sign that his friend was sleeping deeply. The occasional sigh from Judith. Elsewhere, silence.
Glancing down the hall, which suddenly seemed very long, Daryl poised a toe over the threshold and waited. No, nothing. No one knew he was up. He could do this. Just one quick look and then back to bed. No one would ever know.
A rush of excitement swept through his body, such as he could never remember experiencing. His broad grin was seen by no one, but that didn't stop him from keeping it plastered across his face.
Tiptoeing silently down the empty hallway, Daryl stopped periodically to make sure no one was awakening. He didn't want to hear Rick's comments about what he was doing. Or Carol's, for that matter, though he knew that any comments would be made with affection. But still, he wanted to avoid any possible discussion regarding his current actions. Most of all, though, he didn't want to appear foolish in front of his friends.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he paused yet again, looking down and seeing the warm glow emanating from below. Dare he continue? He judged it to be only 6:00 or so, and knew the rest of his group wouldn't be up for hours yet. But he was so eager at the moment, that he couldn't stop himself. He moved forward. Silently and softly, one step at a time, Daryl was thankful for the years of hunting and tracking which had trained him to tread silently and slowly. Smiling softly, he continued to make his way down the stairs. Reaching the bottom he stopped, heart in his throat and breath caught in his chest.
His thoughts were racing. Part of him felt that he was being very foolish, childish even. Skulking around the dark, cold house while his friends slept upstairs. And all for what? The other part of him could answer that. It was all to satisfy his curiosity over a question that had long been unanswered in his mind. A question that should have been answered in his childhood, but had not.
Even when he was young, all those hard years growing up poor in north Georgia, he had refused to give up his faith in this one thing. Even when evidence to the contrary seemed to point straight to the fact that he was wrong, he refused to give up his belief, so strong and pure was it. After all, the other kids had school always returned from Christmas break excited and eager to share what Santa had brought. And his father and Merle's taunts that even Santa Claus wanted nothing to do with the Dixons kind of made sense to him, but he refused to believe they were true. After all, wasn't Christmas for everyone? Was it exclusive only to certain people?
Even through later years of hardship, he'd clung to the notion that this idea of his was true, even if he wasn't seeing the results. The idea of Santa did, indeed, exist. Christmas was for everyone. He just knew, deep inside, that some day he would get to experience Christmas just like other people. Just like the other kids he'd gone to school with all those years ago. His time had not yet come. And now. Well, now was that time. His time. He hoped. Would that faith that he'd nourished for so many years be crushed? Or would it blossom and bloom? He was about to find out.
He stared ahead, at the living room. A soft, welcoming radiance beckoned him from the room. He moved forward slowly, his insides tumbling in nervousness. Reaching the threshold to the room, he stopped again, taking a deep breath before continuing onward, clamping his eyes shut tightly.
Well, he thought. It's now or never.
Holding his breath, he opened his eyes slowly, and found his breath taken away. There, in front of him, was the picture he'd carried in his mind for all of his years. The picture he'd refused to relinquish, even when it seemed obvious that he was wrong. Feeling sudden tears creeping up at the nearness of it all, Daryl took a deep, ragged breath, running his shaking hand across his eyes.
It was true! All of it! He'd known it! He'd just known it was true! Mrs. Griggs was right-never give up on your beliefs-or your dreams. A flood of warm feelings swept through his body, and he reveled in them. Sweeping his eyes across the dimly-lit room, he took in every detail. The warm fire in the fireplace. The tree, beautiful and tall. Everything he had imagined for so many years.
Looking at the tree, soaring majestically above him, he saw the clip-on candle lights flickering softly. The gold star at the top shone brightly, the twinkling lights and the fireplace giving it an almost iridescent glow. The decorations, many handmade, covering the branches in love.
Shaking his head softly, he took in the beauty of the tree, of the room, the fire in the fireplace casting its soft, warm glow over everything, giving it almost a magical quality. It had to be true. There hadn't even been a tree when he'd gone to bed. No decorations, no candles in the windows. No stockings hanging from the mantle. And now…now, it was indescribably beautiful.
Moving his gaze lower, he caught his breath as he took in the jumble of brightly wrapped boxes lying hidden under the branches of the tree. Stepping forward hesitantly, he knelt in front of the tree and touched the bright red paper of one almost reverently. He saw his name. In fact, a quick glance at the presents lining the floor told him that there were many more for him.
Eyes wide with awe, and mindless of the tears now falling, Daryl Dixon rose and backed away from the tree, drinking in the beauty of the scene once more. His teacher had been right when she'd said that he should never give up on his hope or on his dreams. That hope and faith he'd carried with him for years, buried deep inside, now became a certainty. "He" was real. "He" did exist.
Oh, he knew that Santa the man wasn't real. He wasn't that gullible. But for years he'd clung to the belief that the idea of Santa existed and that Christmas itself was a magical season. After all, he'd spent years observing others enjoying the wonderful and happy time. He'd just refused to give up his belief that maybe one day he, Daryl Dixon, could be part of it all, even if only for a moment. He just wanted to know the feeling of being enveloped in the love and warmth, the caring and the happiness of the holiday.
Certain of that knowledge, and happy in knowing it, Daryl wiped his eyes once again and grinned widely. With a last, lingering look, he turned and exited the room, not wanting anyone to know he'd been down here.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached his room quickly and pushed the still open door open wider. Closing it behind him softly, he removed his robe and laid it on the end of his bed once more. Toeing his boots off, he dove under the waiting covers, pulling them tight. Closing his eyes tightly, unaware that he was still grinning widely, Daryl slipped into a peaceful slumber, visions of gaily wrapped packages and softly flickering candles and stars filling his dreams.