Hello friends! Thanks for all your continuing support, its greatly appreciated! This chapter was a little weird to write, and it may be a little boring, but I feel it helps the storyline lol. Promise it will get more exciting soon! So I hope you enjoy!

The next few days in the prison weren't easy. It was clear that the group was divided on the matter of whether Hannah and Merle should stay or go, and that made tensions run very high. Hannah knew that Rick wanted them gone. She'd overheard him talking to Glenn about how they could convince Daryl about making the decision. Because really, the younger redneck was the tipping point in the whole matter. It was obvious Rick valued him as a member of their little rag tag band, and no conclusion was to be met unless he was the one making it. After all, Merle was his brother. The thought did nothing but worry Hannah. She knew that blood was thicker than water, but she was beginning to wonder who it was that Daryl considered his blood.

He was at home with the group, that she could see. Around them, his scowl lessened, his voice got a little less gruff, his eyes brightened. Merle did not merit the same reaction. When he was let out of their little cellblock (which was only when Rick thought of a job they needed him to do), Merle received only the silent treatment from his brother. Even though he didn't show it, Hannah could tell it hurt Merle, and therefore hurt her in return.

Her other pain, she was glad to report, was doing much better. Herschel had given her some wonderful pain medications, and some new fluffy bandages that cushioned the wound quite nicely. She could now hobble around by herself without too much trouble. She was surprised she was allowed to, but it seemed that Rick thought a little injured girl couldn't do them much damage. So (at Merle's insistence), she spent most of her time with the group in their cell block, strengthening herself and doing whatever little things Carol offered her.

She realized pretty quickly that the group (well, except for Rick and Daryl) really had no animosity towards her. They were all kind and friendly to her. Carol dished her generous food portions. Maggie would come sit and talk to her about her life before the outbreak. Oscar would help her around when she couldn't quite do it herself. Carl let her hold Judith. She appreciated it until nighttime, when she would go back to Merle in their cell, see him alone and rejected. Then anger would stream through her. How dare they assume things about him! How dare they cast him out, when it was clear he was no longer the same person he was before! He had obviously changed so much since they knew him. For pete's sake, he'd changed so much since she'd met him! It made her so mad she'd start to sob, Merle holding her and soothing her, having no idea he was the reason for her tears. He deserved better. He deserved more. And about their fourth night there, after Merle had fallen asleep pressed against her back, she decided she was going to get it for him.

The day started off the same. Hannah was collected for breakfast by Carol, Merle staying in their cell block to eat alone. She ate, then took up some sewing she hadn't finished the day before. Every once and a while, she'd glance up at the block door. She hadn't quite figured out exactly how long each watch was, but she'd noticed that Daryl always took the watch after Glenn, and Glenn had been gone since as soon as breakfast ended. So all she had to do was try to keep herself busy, and wait.

It seemed like a lifetime before Glenn finally came back into the prison. Hannah took a deep breath and slowly raised herself to her feet. She winced as a stab of pain shot through her side. Getting up was still a bit painful. Once she was standing, she began to hobble her way towards the door, hoping everyone would think she was just going to use the bathroom and wouldn't ask any questions. She actually managed to make it out to the prison yard before Carol's voice stopped her.

"Where are you going Hannah?"

Hannah sighed, carefully turning herself around to face the gray haired woman. Carol looked at Hannah, eyebrow raised in waiting. Hannah decided Carol was probably the person she could trust the best, so she raised her arm and pointed up to the watch tower.

"Going to talk to Daryl," Carol stated her thoughts, a small smile playing at her lips. "You aren't his favorite person right now, you know. I don't know if this is such a good idea."

Hannah rolled her eyes. Of course it wasn't a good idea, but it was the best she had. If Merle wanted to repair his relationship with his brother, then she'd do whatever it took to help. Plus, they could have a life here. A much less creepier one than at Woodbury.

"You're going to do it anyway though," Carol sighed, kicking at the dust with her foot. "You must really care about Merle. Which must mean he's changed, since you certainly don't look like the type of girl who would fall for an asshole."

Hannah giggled, nodding her head. She knew Carol would understand. She seemed like the type of woman who believed in second chances. Carol smiled at her, taking a step forward and gently taking a hold of her arm. "Well then, in that case, lets get you up that tower. You've got a lot of convincing to do, and I wouldn't want you to be late for dinner."

This made Hannah giggle again, gladly accepting the older woman's help. She liked Carol. She was strong, funny, caring and a genuinely good person. This rotted world needed more people like her.

It took effort, but the two of them finally managed to get up into the watch tower. Daryl did not hide his look of surprise (or disgust) upon seeing them.

"What's she want?" he growled to Carol, completely ignoring the little redhead. Hannah frowned. Not a good start.

"She wants to talk to you, Daryl," Carol said softly, gently guiding Hannah into the seat beside the hulking redneck. Daryl grimaced and shifted away from her, clearly not comfortable with any sort of close seating arrangements.

"Bitch can't even speak," he muttered, fiddling with a hole in his pants. "How's she gonna talk to me if she can't even speak? And who says I'd wanna listen even if she could?"

"Daryl," Carol warned, her grey eyes flashing. "However Hannah chooses to communicate with you, you will listen to her. She's done nothing to you, except bring your brother back, which is something you've been wishing to do ever since Atlanta. So you listen, or I'm gonna have something to say about it."

Daryl's shoulders slumped in defeat, but his face remained cold. Hannah silently praised Carol's inexplicable power over the redneck. Carol gave Hannah a last look of encouragement, then made her way back down the tower stairs.

Hannah looked at Daryl, who was now glaring daggers a chip in the floor. She reached a slightly shaking hand into her pocket and pulled out some crumpled paper and a pencil stub. She wrote one word, right on the top, and slid the paper across the bench to Daryl. Here goes nothing.

Daryl gave the paper a disdainful look, but obviously remembering Carol's words, he reached over and picked it up. Hannah watched his face change from anger to confusion.

"Sorry?" he read, the paper trembling in his hands. "Sorry? That's what ya dragged your ass up here to tell me?"

Hannah nodded, pleased he hadn't lashed out at her yet. She quickly smoothed out another piece of paper, and began to write.

Daryl hadn't been there for when she'd told her story to the rest of the group. He didn't know what her and Merle had been through together. She was writing him that story, but not as how she'd told it before. This time, she was telling the whole truth. Nothing left out, nothing glossed over. This was the raw tale of how a little redheaded girl had met a rough and tumble redneck, and what she saw in him as they grew together. This was the story of a once hardened and cruel man, changed by fate and the care of a woman. This was the story of the little pet and her master.

And she apologized. She apologized for how Merle had treated Daryl. She apologized for how his changed demeanor made Daryl sad that he hadn't been like that always. She apologized for Daryl being angry that Merle could care for her, but seemingly could not show the same care to him. She begged too, begged him to let them stay, to forgive his brother, to make the group treat him better. To forge a new beginning, to let scars fade and wounds heal. She wrote until she ran out of paper, then sat back at turned to finally look at the younger Dixon. It was all in his hands now.

Daryl sat staring at the papers in his hands, his face a sea of emotion. It was clear he was struggling, and Hannah was willing to give him time.

"Ya don't got to say sorry for Merle," Darly finally spoke, his voice ten times softer than she'd ever heard it. "Ain't yer fault what he did to me."

Hannah nodded, but made no attempt to communicate again. This was Daryl's time to talk.

"It was hard growin up," Daryl continued, his hands tightening around the papers. "My mama died when I was young. My Pa beat us, both me and Merle. It was okay, for a while, cuz I had Merle. He stood up for me, took a lot of beatings. Then we grew up, and he got into pills. Always high he was, and that's when he started. I got more scars from him than my pa ever gave the two of us combined." He stopped to look at the young girl, his blue eyes piercing into her.

"Hurt to see ya with him, him all caring for ya and shit. Makes me wonder if he coulda cared for me if he hadn't been on drugs. Makes me wonder if I coulda got away from all the pain," he stopped, suddenly realizing he was confessing all his inner turmoil to someone he barely even knew. "Shit, look at me, going all pussy soft and talking about emotions and shit to a girl. Gone damn soft, Daryl Dixon. Shit. Fuck. FUCK."

Hannah let out a small giggle. Daryl glared at her, but that only made her giggle louder.

"Quit yer gigglin'", he growled. "Can't believe I just told ya all that, shit, only one other person knows about all that shit. Damn woman got it out of me, just like you did."

Hannah grinned, knowing exactly which woman he was talking about. She shifted a little closer to him on the bench, delighted that he didn't shuffle away. He was still glaring at her, but his shoulders had relaxed, and that was a good sign.

"Tell ya what," Daryl stared her down, blue eyes boring into green. "Ya don't mention this girly confessing shit to anyone, especially not Merle, and I'll consider all the stuff ya wrote down. The whole forgiving my brother, letting you stay, getting him better treatment shit. For a backwards mute little bitch, you sure do know how to tell a story."

Hannah made a motion of zipping her lips. She thought she saw the corner of Daryl's mouth twitch, but he quickly slipped back into his signature scowl.

"Damn this whole mess, I need to get shit faced drunk-again," he grumbled, getting up off the bench and heading to the stairs. "Maybe Oscar found some booze in the warden's office…"

Hannah watched him lumber down the stairs, her face stretching into a grin. He may not know it, but Daryl was on his way to doing everything she'd asked of him. She'd seen it in his eyes, when he's stared at her. It was there, behind the anger and annoyance and hurt. It was the spark of hope, the wonder if she was right and the desire to find out. Her grin grew.

Damn, she was good with Dixon men.

Gah, weird! Writing Daryl is hard, even though I love love love love him to pieces.