Chapter 1

When Daryl first spots him, it's on one of the few runs he'd elected to take on his own. He'd only just started to acclimate to all the people at the prison, milling around and staring at him like the sun shines out his ass. It made him uneasy, at best. Stir crazy more often than not. So when he'd pulled Rick aside and proposed heading out on his own for a couple of days, the ex-Sheriff had clapped him on the shoulder and told him to go right ahead.

Daryl doesn't recognize him, at first. He's grown a beard, and his hair isn't cropped short anymore. There are deep bruises circling around both his wrists, and his neck. The kind from repeated injury, doled out with slow, ceaseless precision. His walk has changed, too. Every step seems uncertain, like he isn't so sure he'll find solid ground. Daryl follows him for a while before deciding his next move. During that time, he sees the man's hand twitch towards his knife at the smallest noises, repetitively, like a tic.

It isn't until the man Daryl is following raises a hand up and rubs his head rapidly that the younger Dixon finally puts it together.

"Shane?"

Shane whips around and draws his knife, slashing it out in front of him as if he'd expected the source of the noise to be much closer than it actually was. And even though a part of Daryl's mind screams in protest, he doesn't draw his bow. Instead, he sets it down on the ground slowly, and notes that Shane's hand is shaking. Hard.

"Hey, man, ain't lookin' to start somethin'..."

"I don't have any food," Shane says, "And this knife's the only weapon I got. Find someone else to rob."

Daryl frowns at him. "Man, I don't want none of that-"

"Oh, is that right?" Shane spits back. "You want somethin' else, then, huh? Well I'm not gonna give it to you. I'll fuckin' kill you first."

Daryl doesn't chance taking a step closer. "Shane, what are you talkin' about?"

"Don't call me that!" Shane shouts. He starts pacing across the forest floor. "Don't. Don't. I don't believe you- I- no-"

Shane is panicked, unstable. From the look of him, he's also sporting a couple broken ribs. There is blood dried onto his shirt and pants. Fresh, to Daryl's eye. It's a hair-trigger scenario, so the archer takes to it the same way he'd take to soothing a wounded animal.

"Alright, I won't call you that, then," Daryl says. He keeps his voice low and even, his hands close to his sides. "My name's Daryl. That ring any bells?"

That makes Shane stop in his tracks. "No," Shane whispers. "You're not. You're- you're lying. I can't-" He cuts himself off again and curls in on himself, hunching towards the ground.

There's an impasse if Daryl has ever heard one. He tries a different route.

"When's the last time you had something to drink?" Daryl asks. "Some food?"

Shane looks up at him then, and his eyes are wide and scared and the lightest brown Daryl's ever seen them. As Daryl watches, his expression shifts from angry confusion to something much sadder.

"I don't know," Shane says.

"There's a river maybe a half-mile due east of here," Daryl tells him. "Why don't we head over there together?"

And for however lost Shane looks, for however hopeless he feels, he still nods. They walk to the river together, with Daryl keeping Shane carefully in his periphery. He watches as Shane crouches in the mud and downs large gulps of water from his hands. Daryl stops Shane twice, forcing him to go slower to keep from getting sick.

Afterwards, Shane eyes Daryl warily, but his shoulders are slumping and his chin keeps dipping towards his chest. He's exhausted, Daryl realizes belatedly, maybe hasn't slept in days.

"We don't need to go anywhere," Daryl says, "We can stay right here. I'll keep watch."

Shane crawls up the embankment and curls into a ball under the shade of a thick thatch of trees. He's asleep in seconds, and Daryl keeps his word.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Shane wakes up several hours later, his eyes have changed again. Now, they're a lot closer to the color that Daryl remembers. Lucid, too, and fixed on him.

"Daryl?" is the first word out of Shane's mouth.

"Yeah. It's me."

Shane sits up slowly. "You're alone?"

"Out here, yeah. But we found a place, someplace to settle down for the long haul. The rest of us are back there."

Shane doesn't look much like he wants to say the next word, but he spits it out anyways.

"Rick?"

Daryl grunts the affirmative, then adds, "Still kickin'."

And Shane flinches like he'd been struck. "You ought to get back to them, then."

"Shane…"

"They'll be wondering where you are," Shane says, "Probably already sent out a search party for you." He laughs, humorlessly, and runs a hand through his hair.

"I can't just leave ya out here," Daryl replies.

"Why not? Y'all already did it once."

"We didn't know where you were," Daryl argues, "Didn't even have a place to start lookin'. You were gone, Randall, and then this herd blew through like the fuckin' plague and we couldn't stay, man. Just couldn't-"

"You didn't look," Shane cuts him off. "I was doing it for you people. Keeping you safe, and you couldn't even look. Not for one goddamn hour." Shane's breathing has gone ragged, and Daryl notices him picking compulsively at the frayed edge of his shirt.

"What were you doing for us?"

"Those men, Randall's group, they were right at our goddamn doorstep. And Rick, Rick wouldn't do fuck all about it. 'Course he wouldn't. Fuckin' golden boy, always acting like doing the right thing is some kinda free pass. But I wasn't gonna let them roll up on us like that. I couldn't."

"So you let Randall go," Daryl says.

Shane's eyebrows quirk in surprise, but he nods. "Told him I was lookin' to join up with a new group. Had him lead me to them."

"But it didn't go down the way you wanted," Daryl presses.

Shane shakes his head. His eyes are glassy, and Daryl isn't sure how much of Shane's consciousness is really present right now.

"Randall tipped them off," Shane says, "A signal. Something. I still don't know how."

"And that's where you've been, all this time?"

Shane's whole body jerks, like he's surfacing from a nightmare. His eyes dart around wildly, and he closes his fist around the hilt of his knife.

"You need to go," Shane says, "You need to go. I don't want you here."

He's on his feet and before Daryl can talk him out of it, Shane's stumbling and veering blindly into the woods. Daryl knows a panic attack when he sees one, and he's fairly sure that Shane won't get far on his own. Still, tracking him would be a pain in the ass. Not to mention risky if the older man managed to stumble onto some walkers.

Daryl shoulders his crossbow and palms a large rock up off of the ground. He slides into place behind Shane and brings the rock down about half as hard as he reasonably can. For the second time that day, Shane is out like a light, and for his own goddamn good. Daryl slings the man over his shoulder, turns on his heel, and heads back towards the prison.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

It occurs to Daryl as the gates are opening that it's a damn good thing Shane isn't conscious at the moment. If he had been, Rick would have shot him for sure. As it is, the man's got his Colt cocked and at the ready, and is stomping forward with the slightly wild look on his face that Daryl had only seen a handful of times before.

"Is that," Rick starts to ask when he's close enough, "Is that...Shane?"

"Found him in the woods," Daryl explains as he heads towards the prison doors, "Didn't even know who I was, at first. Was fuckin' delerious. But once he got his feet under him, he still wouldn't come back with me. Could tell he was hurt, think it's been days since he's slept or eaten. So I knocked him out."

"And you brought him here?" Rick hisses back.

Daryl stops and readjusts his grip on Shane. "He's one of us."

"He was a danger to us all."

"Not anymore. You didn't see him, Rick...the guy's changed. Whatever happened to him out there…"

"Whatever happened could mean he's twice the threat now. We're bringing him into our home blind."

"I couldn't leave him there," Daryl says, "And if you're tryin' to tell me you would have, then we've got bigger problems than him."

That shuts Rick right up, and Daryl refocuses his attention on getting Shane safely inside. He deposits him in a bunk, in a cell far off from the rest of the group. With Rick watching, Daryl makes a show of locking the cell door as he exits.

"Gonna need you to look him over," Daryl says to Hershel, once the older man has joined them. "But we oughta wait 'til he wakes up on his own. He comes to with you pokin' at him, and I don't think he'll react too well."

"Do you have any idea what kind of injuries he has?" Hershel asks.

"Pretty sure he's got some broken ribs. Could tell by the way he was movin'," Daryl says. "He's dehydrated. Probably ain't eaten in a good while either. But that's the least of our worries."

"What do you mean?" Rick asks.

"He told me he let Randall go, back at the farm. Had the kid lead him to that group of his. Planned to take out the threat before they could stumble on us by accident."

"And that's where he's been all this time?" Rick seethes. His voice is sharp and accusatory.

"No. Well, yeah, but...he also said that Randall managed to tip his group off somehow. Don't think they woulda welcomed Shane with open arms, after that."

Rick rubs a hand over his chin. "What...what exactly are you sayin'?"

"You tell me," Daryl says slow, with purpose. "What kind of reason can you think up for a group of guys like that to keep around a man they knew was planning to kill them?"

Rick takes a step away from him then, and suddenly can't seem to stay still.

"No…" he murmurs, "No, no….that can't…"

"You don't have to believe it from me," Daryl says, "Have one conversation with him. You'll see it."

Rick slithers back down the cell block without answering, presumably to tell Carl and the others to steer clear of Shane until they knew more. Of course, Shane chooses that moment to make his presence known. He slams his body against the bars, hard.

"Let me out."

Daryl steps closer to Shane than would seem wise, making sure to catch his gaze. "We will, we will soon, you just gotta let Hershel look you over first."

"I don't wanna be looked over, I wanna leave," Shane growls. "I told you I wasn't coming back here. I told you."

"Yeah, and I heard you. But you're dehydrated and you're starving and you're fuckin' hurt. How long had it been since you slept, before I found you?" Daryl says. He waits a pointed few seconds, and Shane says nothing. "You don't know the answer. And that's okay, man, really. But if you're so goddamn set on leaving and facing all the shit out there alone, then you can wait a few more days so you don't end up dead as soon as you step foot out those gates."

Shane wilts a little, taken aback by Daryl's intensity.

"I…" Shane croaks. His eyes hit the floor. "Know I can't go out there on my own. Not yet. If you hadn't found me, I probably wouldn't have made it another day. Just...please don't leave me in a cage. I- I can't- can't be locked in here. Just- please, Daryl. Please."

For all the times Daryl had heard Shane speak- at length, obnoxiously, about topics he knew nothing about- he'd never once heard the older man beg. Daryl pulls out the keys and unlocks the cell.

"Gonna trust you not to run off," Daryl says as he steps to the side, allowing Shane to pass into the hallway. "Not to go sniffing around anyone in the group, either."

"I can do that," Shane says listlessly. His eyes remain on the floor, and he misses Daryl's and Hershel's mutual looks of concern..

Footsteps echo from the other end of the cellblock, and Shane's face goes pale just as it jerks up to identify the noise. It takes forever for Rick to reach them, and in that time, Daryl watches Shane edge backwards slowly. Gradually move so that he is partially concealed by Daryl's broad frame.

Rick stops a couple yards away from them. He opens his mouth, but before he can form any words, a baby's cries pierce through the thick silence. They all watch as Beth hurries into the cell farthest from them, listen as she coos to Judith and shushes her gently. On Shane's face, Daryl watches as understanding clicks into place.

Shane looks Rick in the eye, and when he speaks, his voice doesn't waver.

"Where's Lori?"

The answer is clear even before Rick winces and looks away.

"She's...she's dead?" Shane whispers. He takes a faltering step forward. "You son of a bitch. You let her die?"

Rick's eyes flick back up. "I didn't let her do anything. The prisoners- the baby- !"

"You had one fucking job to do!" Shane shouts. "Keep your family safe. That's it. And you let her die."

"Shane, he didn't-" Hershel tries to intersect, but the ex-cop cuts him off.

"You let her die," Shane says again, "I told you it would happen. Didn't I tell you? Knew you couldn't keep them safe. But all I ever heard was how they were your family, yours. So I went off and I did the dirty work. I sacrificed everything, everything, to keep you people safe, and all you had to do was keep her alive, Rick."

Shane's voice cracks at the end, and for the first time in a long time, Rick is speechless. The guilt and anger on Rick's face seem to snap something inside Shane's body, and he finally says the words he'd been desperate not to.

"Did you even look for me?"

Rick lets out a slow breath through his nose. "Shane, a herd came through. There wasn't any time-"

"The herd came through that night," Shane corrects him, "I was gone that morning."

Before he can stop himself, Shane's wrapped his arms tightly around his middle in a way he knows betrays how fragile he's feeling. He's never had to be this person before. The weak one, the one who's broken beyond repair and needs to be coddled and soothed. And it's hard to qualify himself as weak with what he's managed to survive, but he sure as hell is broken. Like a shattered vase, pieces left in disarray. He'd tried to collect them, and put himself back together. But in the end, some of them had to be left behind. Others, just plain forgotten.

"I don't want to know," Shane says, much more quietly, "God, you didn't look, did you? You didn't care. But I don't want to know. I can't know...I kept telling myself you would- wouldn't leave me there- wouldn't just let them-"

Shane's voice cracks again, and it occurs to Rick that he's never seen Shane cry before, but today he just might. The gravity of what he's done starts to weigh on his chest, and Rick can't quite breathe properly, but at least he's in good company.

"Shane, I'm- I'm-" Rick wants to say he's sorry. But the words won't come out. And really, what's the point?

"I know I messed up. With- with Lori. But you forgave her, you know? And I figured maybe it'd take longer, but you'd forgive me too. We had more history, you and me. Didn't think you hated me enough to just-"

"I don't," Rick is quick to say, "I don't hate you. I didn't then. That wasn't the reason…"

"It was, though," Shane says. And he sounds weary, like the realization has aged him. "If it had been Daryl missing, Lori, you wouldn't have waited. You wouldn't have left them behind. But me...me disappearing was a fuckin' blessing, huh? Didn't matter where I was, what was being done to me, so long as I was out of your hair."

Rick takes a step forward and reaches out to Shane, trying to say with his movements what his words can't seem to accomplish. And Shane's eyes go hard.

"No!" he jerks back. "Don't you fucking touch me. You don't get to touch me."

Shane starts pacing again, and the look in his eyes is the one Daryl had seen before he bolted into the woods, so the archer tries to intervene. He steps between the former partners.

"Hey, he's not gonna touch you," Daryl says, "No one's gonna touch you. Just need you to calm down, alright? You still haven't eaten nothin', or gotten much rest. Why don't you-"

But Shane isn't listening. Instead, he's slinking away down the wall, distancing himself from them with every breath. His hand is on the hilt of his knife.

"Goddamnit, Shane," bursts out of Rick's mouth, "Just do what he says!"

And that right there is more than enough. Shane turns on his heel and sprints away from them. He weaves through the people in the cell block, plows through the door, and heads out into the yard with speed Rick had forgotten the man possessed.

There's nowhere for him to go. It's late evening now, and with no one out on any runs, there was similarly no one at the main gates to let them back in. So when Shane hits the fences, sees that he's trapped, he collapses.

Daryl catches up to him a few minutes later. It had only taken a handful of tense words to decide that Daryl go after Shane, and no one else. When Daryl reaches him, Shane is slumped with his back to the fence and his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking, and it's only when Shane lifts his head up that Daryl realizes he's laughing, of all things.

"It's just another cage," Shane says, smiling in a way that makes Daryl uneasy and shaking his head like he's hoping to dislodge it from his body, "Just another cage. One big fucking cage."

The whole scene reminds Daryl a lot of the few times Merle mixed his poisons, and ended up an emotional wreck, sprawled out on their bathroom floor. So he does now what he'd done back then, and sits down quietly at Shane's side. They stay like that for a long while, both staring out at the prison in silence. The shaking of Shane's body- be it laughter or sobs- eventually quiets, and Daryl's surprised to feel the older man leaning into him slightly.

"They send you out here to make sure I don't hurt anyone?" Shane asks softly.

"No," Daryl replies,"I came out here to make sure you didn't hurt yourself."

"Oh." Shane frowns and looks at Daryl thoughtfully.

"You weren't the only one that got left behind," Daryl tells him, "Not sure if that makes it any better. Had to leave Andrea when the herd blew through."

"Guess he's made a habit of it, at this point. Leaving people behind. Started with Merle, huh?"

Daryl's face falls, briefly. He pulls himself back together into an expression that's largely impassive, but Shane's eyes are as sharp as they've ever been, if a little bit wilder now.

"What happened?" Shane asks.

Daryl hesitates a beat, but then lets out a long breath through his nose and begins to speak. "Found Merle again. Andrea too, in this town near here. Was called Woodbury, and the guy in charge, he called himself The Governor. He killed my brother. Andrea. Tried to come here and kill all of us, just 'cuz he could, but we scared him and his army off. Turned the gun on his own people then disappeared, so we took in all the folks that got left in town while he was off trying to kill us. Been lookin' for him ever since. But...he's just gone."

"Sorry about your brother," Shane says, "Mine didn't die, don't know what that's like- but I sure as hell lost him."

"You could still fix it," Daryl replies. "You and Rick got a second chance now. More than I had with Merle."

"We can't. Not after…" he sighs. "I know it ain't his fault. Not...not really. Know that in my head, but…"

"But you still blame him. That's alright, if you need to. Hate him, even. Whatever makes it easier."

Shane nods. "I didn't want him to know. That's half the reason I wouldn't come back here with you. Figured as soon as he saw me, he'd know."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Daryl says. "Couldn't just leave you out there, though."

Shane leans into him the slightest bit more, and Daryl is surprised when it doesn't make him want to squirm away like bodily contact normally did. Back at the quarry, Shane had reminded Daryl of Merle in a lot of ways. His bigger-than-his-britches personality, his alpha-dog mentality, even his physique. Now, Daryl sees that Shane is more like his brother than he could ever have guessed. Two men desperate to hide the parts that were broken or unsightly, but wholly unable to do so.

"You're different, now," Shane says, breaking Daryl from his thoughts. "Different than I remember."

"So are you," Daryl replies.

Shane snorts. "Yeah, now I'm a fuckin' mess."

"Maybe. But sometimes everything's gotta go wrong before shit can start goin' right."

Shane looks at him and his lips split into a smile. It's genuine, and the first time the stress lines have eased from Shane's forehead since Daryl stumbled onto him in the woods.

"When the hell did you get deep?" Shane laughs.

Daryl finds he's laughing along with him. He stands up slowly, cracks his back like an old man. Then, he holds out a hand to Shane.

"C'mon."

Shane takes Daryl's hand, and as far as recovery goes, Daryl figures that's as good a start as any.