Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I head cannoned myself on tumblr from my own post: "So, I just got a mental image of Merle taking the place of Tyreese when the prison fell and he is like - baby on his hip in the forest and hating his entire god damned life and I am not sure whether to laugh or cry."

Warnings: This story is an AU after the middle of "This Sorrowful Life" (season three) – running off the premise that Merle somehow escaped from the Governor after their confrontation and made it back to the prison rather than dying and having Daryl find him as a walker. Basically picks up in season four after the Prison is attacked and spans into potential season 5 territory. *Contains: adult language, adult content, emotional baggage, Merle and Daryl's shitty childhood, adult babies dealing with their feelings, actual babies doing baby things, vague season three spoilers – five spoilers, mild hints of caryl where in which interpretation is up to the reader.

Sick and tired of legends untold (give me a happy ending god damnit)

Chapter Six

The first sign he saw was just a map and some mutterings about sanctuary. Terminus. A safe place nestled in a crossroads where the rail-lines intersected less than five miles due east.

But he'd just rolled his eyes, kicking up a spray of dirt with a snort of disgust. Memorizing the lay of the map and then adding a two mile buffer zone, just in case, before crossing back into the brush.

Safe place, his ass.

Weren't no such thing these days.

Anyone who said any different was either sellin' something or lying through their teeth.

He'd already played that game what with Woodsbury and the Governor – and hell – it'd nearly cost him everything.

Even his assholes knew better than to risk the serpent's paradise.

It was the ruckus and explosions which came later that forced him to consider otherwise.

He really should have known better than to give 'em that much credit.

He waited until the dust settled, or at least until the worst of the gunfire had tapered off – seeing loosely where they all came out - before cutting through the brush a couple miles ahead and settlin' down to wait.

Hell if he hadn't called it.

Terminus had been bad news.

Maybe it hadn't always been that way, but he knew enough about the human condition to recognize rot when he saw it. The little brat shifted against him, making a muted chorus of unhappy sounds, probably eager to be free of her carrier but he wasn't biting. Instead he rummaged around in his pack, unearthing the rest of the morning's bottle, and offered it to her.

He wasn't sure if it was out of hunger or sheer boredom, but she took to it all the same.

He stuck it out until she'd really gotten into it – all soft sucking and contented murmurs - before he tossed the blanket over his shoulder, hopin' she'd drop off after she'd been fed and watered.

He let his thoughts reel out as he kept on eye on the perimeter. It felt like he'd had an influx of time on his hands lately – time to think and fuck around in his own head. He wasn't sure if he liked it, to be honest. That shit was a pitfall just waiting to happen. There was a reason he'd spent most of his time before the end of everything blitzed out of his tree.

Still, the church mouse – his brother's silver fox - damn if that hadn't been a sight to see.

He'd been trying to figure out how the hell he was gonna get their sorry asses out of that mess when she came in, cool as anything, bloody and wrecked, pulling fireworks right out of her ass before charging in like something out of an old western, guns a blazin'.

That was one hell of a woman, right there.

No wonder Darlina had a love on for her.

The both of them were about a quarter of an hour into a well deserved nap when he heard them coming.

"Well a'int y'all a sight for sore eyes," he cracked, beyond pleased with himself as he stretched, leaning up against the gnarly old oak with careless grace. Looking for all the world like some half-feral tom-cat basking in the rays as the afternoon sun filtered through the trees overhead.

His shit eating grin was a cover for the seconds he wasted counting – making sure – setting things straight in the back of his head as he took them in. Unable to squash the small niggling feeling of relief as they breasted the hill and came into sight.

Fuckin' city slickers had made it after all. Them and some extras apparently.

God knows when they'd time to make friends, but he supposed they were stuck with them for the time being.

He didn't bother hiding the wise-ass smirk when Daryl stopped dead.

"What'd I tell you about stickin' your nose into things that don't concern you, little bro? Looks like you went and stuck your face in a blender, damn."

He took it as his due when the tension deflated in Daryl's shoulders – expression switching from relief, to irritation and finally, grudging amusement as they stopped in a half circle around him. Gratifying in all the ways he told himself he didn't care about.

"How the hell did you find us?" Rick rasped, long hair stringy and blood-spattered at the temples, looking one emotion moment short of an all-out collapse as his boy edged toward him, uncertain.

"Just followed the noise man, you had a whole symphony going on over there, could hear that racket for miles," he returned, tone vaguely sing-song, enjoying the hell out of himself now as Glenn stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides, just lookin' for a reason.

"Don't tell me you just sat back and watched?" the kid growled, "we nearly died, all of us!"

But he just smiled, peachy keen and twice as amused as Farmer's daughter put a hand on her man's shoulder – calming and still.

"Shush, now," he hummed, pressing his finger up against his lips in mock seriousness before reaching down to unveil his passenger – the gesture made flamboyant by his remaining fingers as they overcompensated for the weight and sent the blanket billowing outwards.

"Wouldn't want to wake up Miss Muppet, now would 'ya?"

The looks on their faces – ranging from burgeoning hope to dead shock – were almost worth the week of playing nanny.

Almost.

He wasn't sure what to do with the realization when handing her over – feelin' her let go of that single hiccuping laugh, echoing into the crush as the others surged forward - wasn't as easy as he'd figured it would be.

He shook his head, watching from the sidelines. Chewing down all the words he didn't need to say as Daryl clapped him on the shoulder, smilin' like it was going out of style as he touched base – Rick, Judith, the silver-fox - then back to him again. It was a compulsion, like an old hound dog with a lopped off tail, letting his body do the talkin'.

Fuckin' softie.

Still, he couldn't deny that he wasn't doing the same. His gaze catching on that spit of dark blonde hair as the baby wriggled and squealed – high and proud in Captain America's arms. Cold hearted as any dame as bright blue eyes watched him from over her old man's shoulder.

He nearly did a double take when he tasted blood, thick and bitter on his tongue, before looking away again. Quick. Guilty. Angry.

He ran his good hand through short greying curls.

He needed a god damned drink, that's what.

He closed his eyes, filtering out the sound of the hen-party at his back as everyone set about getting reacquainted – makin' plans. Focusing instead on the strong northerly breeze kickin' through the dense Georgian brush. He breathed it in, deep forest rot and all. And just like it always did, it had a way of centering him. Trickling in through the senses until it'd sunk down, soul deep, letting a man know where he belonged in the grand scheme of things.

He was getting fuckin' sentimental in his twilight years.

Christ.

His lips thinned, making like they were going to form a sneer before losing steam in the follow through. After all, he'd gotten what he'd wanted. He had his brother back and the little miss was finally out of his hands. He was a free man and a lucky sonofabitch to boot. Had no business even thinkin' about wantin' more.

This shit right here was as close to a happy ending as a Dixon ever got.

Life got a whole lot easier when you made 'yer peace with that.

…Or so he'd been told.

A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has followed and reviewed this story, I wasn't expecting the outpouring of enthusiasm for this arc but I am sure glad that it exists! It just goes to show that a lot of people could foresee Merle having a place within the group after all. And that really warms me in the heart place! You guys are great! – This story is now complete.

"Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass." - John Steinbeck