Huge apology for the delay and the shortness of this piece, I was recently evacuated from my lovely little haunt in the forest due to severe brush fires... one of the few downsides to living in the woods. i'm sure the dixon brothers would understand.

16

He returned to the boxcar and wanted to kick himself when he saw the door hanging wide open from the night before. The car was flooded with at least two inches of water. He was glad Sadie stacked the mattresses, so at least one would be salvageable. He found irony in that one place he lived in was destroyed by fire, and now one was momentarily destroyed by water. By the time he reached the trailer it was dark, and Dallas' truck was parked out front. Their was a faint smell of chicken being cooked and with a start Daryl realized it was coming from his trailer. He treaded softly on the stair and slowly pushed the door open. His dad was standing by the stove grilling some chicken cutlets. There was already food laid out on the small kitchen table. "What's this?"

"You said you were gonna be back, and I figured you'd be hungry."

Almost on cue, Daryl's empty stomach made unnecessary whale sounds. "Oh."

"Sit down," Dallas encouraged, nodding in the direction of the food and the set table. "Eat something."

That story about those kids in the woods who find a witch with a house made of candy popped into Daryl's head. He shook his head to clear it and sat down.

"Your brother coming?"

"No, doubt it."

"Little fucker," Dallas growled. He stabbed the grilling chicken with the steak knife he was using and Daryl jumped.

Once the chicken was done the two sat and ate together in silence.

"Not doing so good at school?" Dallas finally asked.

"Nope," Daryl said shaking his head in agreement.

"Ain't for shit, anyway. The hell you gonna do anyway, go to college?" Dallas laughed at his own joke.

Daryl humored him and laughed along softly.

"So were you just camping out in the woods, then?" Dallas continued. "Like I taught you?"

"Sort of. I guess so. Squirrels are always easy enough."

Dallas smiled a small smile. "Oh, yes, my son Robin Hood, right here. You always wanted to be the hero when you were little, always wanted to be the good guy." His eyes glazed over briefly at the memory.

Daryl stared blankly in front of him. "I still do," he said softly.

Dallas felt himself feeling things that he didn't want to, so he stood up abruptly. He opened the small fridge and grabbed a beer for each hand. "I'm going to bed."

"It's six o'clock," Daryl observed.

"So fuckin' what?" Dallas shot over his shoulder as he slammed the bedroom door behind him.

Daryl waited until he heard the creak of bedsprings to move. The TV being turned on. And the grand finale, the pop of a beer can opening. Once he was certain hat Dallas had settled himself he began to clean up the kitchen. It was an ingrained habit, he realized, as he started doing it. When they were little Merle was always told to clean off the table after a meal. He rarely did, and would throw hissy fits up until he was well past the age when it was acceptable. So Daryl began to take care of it, just to avoid the confrontation. He fell onto the couch and didn't bother opening it. Scooping the remote of the floor, he turned on the TV and found himself wary to enjoy this moment of normality. He flipped through the stations until he found reruns of Three's Company and made himself comfortable. Watching Suzanne Somers was helping his mood exponentially. As the night progressed he continued to watch reruns and get the occasional snack from the kitchen. Around eleven he began to get tired, and yanked the blanket off the back of the couch over him. He left the TV on and finally let himself fall asleep.