Some of the chapter like this one goes back to the year 1998. I thought if season 3 takes place in 2013/2014, lets make that the timeline where our story takes place, and then go backwards 14/15 years to tell the story of these high school teens.

Also check out this pic of young Daryl I created. I will leave the link in my bio.

I walk down memory lane
'Cause I love running into you
"How are you?", "I'm doing great"
And I have you back for a few

I just love the idea
When I see ya in my head
That's why I walk down memory lane
'Cause it's the only place
That I have you again

by Haley Joelle

Chapter 2 - Start of infinity - 1998

The year is 1998, and President Bill Clinton is in the process of his impeachment.

The whole country seems to be holding their breath, like there is this hovering of uncertainty of what the future might hold. Every morning your father would be planted in front of the breakfast table, with his face pressed to a newspaper, his knee bouncing in nervousness.

However, for you, life is going according to plan.

Your grades are the best it ever been.

There is only 2 months left for your junior year, and you have already registered for the upcoming summer college prep course. You have filled all your free time with extracurricular activities, and voluntary services. Based on the way things are going, soon colleges will be lining to have you.

There is a bounce to your feet as you walk down the hallway to your classroom. Your portable CD player clip to your jeans. Aerosmith's new album blasting through the wire headphones.

Mr. Lanigan, your favorite biology teacher stands outside of his classroom greeting all his students as they walk in.

You smile and wave at a few of your classmates as you walk to your desk. In all your classes, you always set at the front. Your father always said, the best quality of a leadership is to be seen and to be noticed, never blend in with the crowd.

As you sit down and get comfortable, you feel a hand gently press to your shoulder, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Lanigan!" You greet pulling the headphones out of your ears.

"Good morning, Ms. Hart. Just want to remind you about that tutoring you promised for one of your peers."

"Yeah, I haven't forgotten."

"Good, good," Mr. Lanigan nods to himself as he walks away.

About a week ago, Mr. Lanigan had pulled you aside after class, requesting your assistance for one of his students who was in dire need of tutoring. At the time, you didn't even think twice, you simply agreed.

After all, you are the student body president. You thought, willing to serve others was another one of those qualities of leadership.

"In messenger RNA, each codon specifies a particular Amino Acid," Mr. Lanigan is interrupted during his lecture. The door to the classroom opens, and Daryl Dixon walks in 20 minutes late to class.

You glance up at him from your notes. He does not acknowledge anyone as he strolls into class. There is away about him, the way he walks and the swing of his arms, like he owns the classroom. Absolute nonchalant.

"Mr. Dixon. See me after class." Mr. Lanigan says with only a moment of pause. His voice is monotone.

Daryl grunts as a reply, before taking his seat at the back of the class.

His dark hoodie is over his head, and you can't tell if it's once blue or dark gray. His washed-out jeans is a little too large for his slim frame. On his feet is the same beat-up converse he always wears.

You watch as he sits down and immediately puts his head on the table, signifying he is going to take a nap.

It is a common knowledge - you stay the fuck out of Daryl Dixon's way. He is an angry kid, who constantly gets into fights. He is always covered in bruises.

Even though no one said anything to his face,

… like they wouldn't dare,

everyone talks behind his back.

He doesn't really associate with anyone, nor does he have any friends, besides the few hooligans he smokes with sometimes. He is a dilemma, and no one is curious enough to find out.

Today, he has another black eye again. One of the many bruises that litter his face.

You roll your eyes and go back to your study.

Class proceeds without any additional interruption.

When the bell rings, you pack your books and got up, but before you could head out, Mr. Lanigan makes an eye contact, giving you a wave as a signal for you to wait.

You linger back shifting on your feet.

Daryl Dixon is already at Mr. Lanigan's desk.

He stands there in front of it without saying a word. He just eyes the teacher disinterestedly.

"Mr. Dixon," Mr. Lanigan lets out a tired sigh. "At the rate things are progressing, you will not graduate."

You make a face feeling uncomfortable. Are you supposed to be part of this conversation? Is it not obvious that you can hear them?

You pretend to look busy. Your eyes shifting to the plant cell diagram that was pinned to the wall. You pretend to read it, like you haven't seen this poster all year long. But it is hard not to focus your attention on their conversation. So, you awkwardly ease-drop.

Based on the rumor mill, last year, Daryl was sent to Juvie for stealing a car and taking it on a joyride. They said that was why he was held back and had to repeat his junior year. Unfortunately, he had missed to many days. And considering that, he isn't doing well this year either. Yet, he continues to skip most of his classes, but you doubt even when he is present, he is paying any attention.

"Pfft, whatever man." Daryl replies.

"No, it's not whatever. You can do this Daryl. You're a bright kid." Mr. Lanigan, emphasize. "You have so much potential, and I hate to see it go to waste, son." There is something kind about his voice, like a level of encouragement coming from a concern father.

"You know, I taught your brother too. He was…" there is a pause before he shakes his head, as if remembering a terrible taste.

You heard of his older brother, Merle Dixon.

Even though he was 10+ Years your senior, his legacy lives on as one of the worst students to ever go to 'Malcom High.'

He was also notorious for fighting and bringing drugs to school. All the degenerate and rowdy kids have a story to tell about him. He was finally expelled for bringing gunpowder to school. Apparently, he stole it from his father's hunting rifle.

Daryl Dixon is quickly starting to become the runner up. Whenever Daryl does something that got him into trouble, some of the faculty members would bring up the other Dixon and start comparing the two. Like there is some type of curse that followed the name Dixon.

Mr. Lanigan is the only teacher you have seen to genuinely put effort. He truly wants to see at least one of the Dixons' graduate. He is a good man like that. Always seeing the best in people.

"But you Daryl, you can graduate. You can do what he could not. That's why I'm rooting for you." The tone of his voice gives you the impression maybe this teacher is more aware about Daryl's personal life than what he led on.

Mr. Lanigan puts both his hands on the table and lean forward.

"THAT is why I'm willing to pass you this class as long as you put some effort. I understand you don't see the importance of education right now. But it matters. Did you know High school dropouts will more likely earn a quarter million dollars less-"

"Mr. L, just tell me whatcha want me to do man, I ain't got all day," Daryl interrupts, expression sharp with warning. Mr. Lanigan isn't discouraged, he simply continues to reach out.

"We have a final project coming up. If you can get a passing grade on this- I'm willing to take anything above D minus… I will pass you this class."

Daryl snorts as a reply.

"The year is almost over, and you need to pass one more class to get to your senior year…" you purse your lips and shook your head. Exactly just how low is the bar set?

Mr. Lanigan lets out a sigh of frustration. "Work with me here, Daryl."

"Yea, ok, damn." Daryl replies in annoyance.

Seems like that's the answer Mr. Lanigan was waiting for, because there is a pause before you feel his eyes land on you.

"Wonderful." The teacher hum with a smile, "Ms. Hart," he calls, waving you over.

"Yes sir," you murmur, your voice smooth. When you step forward, you notice Daryl side eyeing you as if you are a dog with rabies.

This is the first time the two of you ever been face-to-face. Considering you both go the same school and walk the same hallways every day, the two of you come from completely two different worlds. There's never been a reason for the two of you to interact. You've seen him around the school grounds. Whether he was smoking on the bleachers or walking out of the principal's office, that is the extent of your exposure to him. And judging from the look on his face, he seems to know of you as well.

He looks you up and down, from your crisp white sweater to your blue jeans. He makes a face and let out 'tsk'. He doesn't need to speak; you can tell exactly what he thought of you. Distaste is written plainly on his face. One of those dumb Barbie bitches.

You want to give him a piece of your mind, but instead, you give him a stiff smile.

"Daryl, you know Miss Alice Hart!" There is a cheerfulness to Mr. Lanigan's tone, cutting in the tension. "Ms. Alice here has the highest grade in the school and is already picked to be next year's valedictorian. She's also the student body president." He gives Daryl a full report of your accomplishments.

"Why ya tellin me this?" Daryl responds, clearing his throat.

"Because I am partnering you up with her! Ms. Hart here has agreed to be your lab partner for the remaining of the year." You cringe and promptly want to disagree and interject. Tutoring, that was what he had said to you, not lab partner. But part of you understands why he had switched his words. Daryl Dixon seems like the kind of person who would not take well to being tutored, so you let it be.

"She will help you complete your final project. And I repeat the word is 'help' NOT 'do' the assignment for you Mr. Dixon. You guys have two months to submit this project before the end of the year," he emphasizes. Mr. Lanigan then turns his eyes toward you.

"Ms. Hart, I need him to put equal amount of effort into this project. I need to see his words on the paper not yours…" Mr. Lanigan eyes you with a warning.

"You got it, sir," you comply.

"Whatever," Daryl grumble. When the teacher gives both you a nod, Daryl takes that as a conclusion. Without even a second of delay, he walks out of the classroom.

You follow reluctantly. As you get to the door, "Ms. Hart, Thank you," Mr. Lanigan calls, his eyes kind. You nod your head before walking out of class, following Daryl fuckin Dixon.

You are already dreading it.

You see Daryl walking down the hallway ahead of you, so you jog to catch up with him.

"Hey!" He stops to look back at you.

"Listen, we have a lot to do, and I want to get this project done as quick as possible. I think we need to meet up after school every day for about an hour and get it done."

"The fuck! Eer day?" He looks at you, incredulously.

"Yes, every day, at least Monday to Friday. We also need to pick our topic and all the books we need. I say we hit the local library." After all, this was the late 90s and computers aren't as easily accessible.

"Library?" He repeats like you spoke of foreign word.

"Yes, the library. The school library probably doesn't have all the books we need, and even if they did, since we're starting our project late, all the books will probably be taken." You look down at your wristwatch. You are already late for pre-calculus.

"I say we should start tomorrow after school. 4pm sharp. I'll meet you by the bus stop." You say stepping backwards towards your next class. When he does not respond with any disagreement, you took it as an answer.

"Do not be late!" You holler, turning to jog the opposite direction.

"Fuckin prom queen wanna be bitch," you hear him murmur.

And just like that, it all began.

Even though he complains and disputes to all your demands, for some reason, he follows you into the library.