Nox: If you're new here, welcome. What started as an idea, has turned into something beautifully broken. The Brothers have become a life unto each other, and I write them as I see them. The first few chapters are a little rough, unrefined. But I promise you. If you continue on this journey with me, you won't regret it. Because what once started out as just Daryl's story, has also become Merle's. And they are here to share it with you. Through their pain, their suffering, and their hope.

Disclaimer: Dixons belong to Kirkman and AMC.

Trick

Daryl knew the day he fell, and skinned both his knee and his hands, and Merle had grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him up, patting him on the back gently, clearing his throat that he would never stop loving his brother.

But that didn't mean he didn't hate his brother either.

Merle was like the fire they burned at night to keep warm, when nobody wanted to clean out the ashes from the old furnace. They'd all have to gather round real close, but if you weren't careful, you'd get burned by a stray spark, or the flames would suddenly flare up and scorch you.

Merle was the dog everybody knew lived at the end of the road, broken and foamin' at the mouth. None a them had the heart to put it outta its misery coz it was a miserable old thing, but nobody went near it neither. You weren't sure if you was gonna git bit, or if it'd actually let you pet it.

Daryl was never sure of what he was gonna get from Merle on any given day. Some days he would give an arm and a leg just to spend another moment with his brother, those days when he'd take him huntin' and swimmin', teachin' how to do brother shit. And other days he couldn't get far enough away from him.

But he learned to live with that. Learned to keep his mouth shut and his head down.

Following in the shadow of Merle, whether he liked what that meant or not. He did what Merle wanted. No questions asked. He did what Merle didn't want him to. No questions asked. And when Merle wanted somethin', he got it. No questions asked.

But then, Merle would drive him somewhere special; treat him like a real kid brother. Merle would take him under his arm and squeeze him tight, giving him a noogie or a wet-willy, laughing high, and child-like. Sure Daryl didn't like it. But there was something special about those moments that made him feel like just a brother. A brother who cared, who loved him.

And then there were the times when his Ma or his Pa would come round, and Merle would do right by him, or when Merle wasn't there and Daryl would be left to the wolves.

Merle was different when he cared. And Daryl found that Merle cared a whole lot differently than any other person he had seen. And maybe he didn't have a lot of people to compare too, but that didn't mean nothin'. Sometimes, when Merle was carin', you had to look real hard, through all that jumble and tangle and mess a bullshit that made Merle, Merle.

It took Daryl a long time to figure that out.

Love and hate were a tricky thing, he figured. You couldn't have one without the other. He couldn't love Merle unless he hated him. And he sure as hell knew that he didn't hate Merle unless he loved him.

That was the trick. How do you separate'em?

How do you keep one from becomin' the other?

How did he love Merle without hatin'em?

A/N: I have no illusions that Merle has treated Daryl with any kind of good. In fact, I think the worst of him. But, that doesn't mean I don't have the absolute biggest, most profound hope that somewhere, far away, Merle really does and has cared for Daryl for all of his worthless, piece of shit life.

And I think that's the beauty of Merle. That he knows his life is worth less than shit, and all he's got is Daryl. And his biggest mistakes have always been to drag Daryl down, deep into the pit of his darkness, but that's all he knows how to do. That's the only way he can love.

And love, it comes in all forms.