Blessing or a Curse? ➳ Daryl Dixon

50. A Look Back

What a dick.

Those had been one of the many thoughts that had raced through his head, when he had first met Daryl Dixon, in what seemed like a century ago.

Sydney had felt so out of place among the new group, the only person who had bothered with him being a little girl whose life he had supposedly saved. All he had aspired for was to fit in among everyone, hopefully being allowed to stay despite being a stranger, and at the time he had made the mistake of trying to buddy up with none other than Daryl, a gruff redneck who used his words as a shield in front of himself.

Even with a head wound and laid up in bed, the other had been rude and brushed him off during their first meeting, yet ironically, still much nicer than Sydney was now. 

“I’m Sydney Collins. I’m the one who brought Sophia back. Or well, she brought me here.” He smiled awkwardly. 

 

Clearly, it wasn’t very funny to Daryl. “Yeah, meaning I almost got myself killed for nothing.” He grumbled in response, propping himself up slightly on the bed as he said such. 

The first impression wasn’t a good one, but it hadn’t stopped Sydney from trying to be friends with him, or at least acquaintances. Back then, it was all sunshine and rainbows, and it mostly hurts his chest when he thinks about how good he was back then, how much he cared.

He had gone to great lengths, with Dale, to try and save Randall’s life— had almost even pointed a gun at his fellow group members if he had to, and Randall was like the younger brother he had never had, gearing up to be a dad . He had died for Randall, he had followed after him in the woods knowing he couldn’t overpower Shane, and had paid the price for it— all for a boy he’d met a week prior. 

That was the last time he had tried so hard to save someone, had put his everything into it, and had died for the cause. Without a doubt, he’d jump in front of a bullet for anyone in the group, even Merle, he’d die for any of them. He would let himself be tortured and killed before he let anyone else go through that pain, simply because he knew it was his destiny to do so, he’d always come back, for better or for worse. 

He’s not sure he would do it for anyone else besides them though, which was a far cry from who he used to be. He’s most likely killed more people than he has saved at this point, some more regrettable than others. 

There were a lot of things that Sydney wished he could forget, that he could erase from his memory and never let them plague him again, but anything involving Daryl; he wanted to keep close to him, never wanted to be rid of. And if it meant living with the pain so he could remember everything about Daryl, he would do it. 

“You know, I still wanna know how to use that.” Sydney looked at the crossbow that was being held with one hand by Daryl, hovering off the ground. The other always made it look so easy. 

 

Daryl looked down at where the other was looking, and hefted the weapon into both his hands. “Got time.” He grunted at him, holding it for Sydney to take from his grasp.