"Your boyfriend's one of them?" Maggie asked incredulously as the group went over the plans Andy had drawn up for what he knew of the building. Andy stood tight-lipped to one side while Jesus stood with his arms crossed, eyes down shamefully.

"Not every one of them does it because they like it," he said, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his nerves. This was a lot of death they were planning and while he was okay with it enough to go along with it, it didn't mean he liked it. Nor did he want the man he loved to be among the casualties. "He stays because he's just as scared of what will happen to him, and to me, if he tries to leave as the people of Hilltop are if they don't give them what they want. I can't condemn him for doing what he has to just to stay alive."

...

"Nah-uh brother, get in the car," Merle called out from the window of the hummer he'd hijacked, yelling over the whump whump whump of the helicoper's blades that were getting ever faster. "Ain't enough room for the both of us!"

Daryl stood on the launchpad halfway between the copter and the hummer, hesitating to do what Merle was telling him. Their escape from the overrun refugee camp was right there. No more having to fight the dead. Just safety in the air and eventually Atlanta.

"They got plenty of room if you'd get your ass over here!" he shouted back, voice getting more panicked with every word. "Get your dumb ass outta there and c'mon."

Merle shook his head, casting a glare that seemed to get meaner every second, and pounded his hand on the roof of the vehicle, "No room, Daryl! Not for me! Get away from there and let 'em go! We can do this on our own. Just like we been doin' since the start!"

The stubbornness of his brother and the need to not lose him - the only family he had left - was the only thing holding Daryl back from climbing inside the copter and getting his ass out of there. He wanted to. He wanted to feel safe again and the copter was the last, final, evac out of the football stadium. But he couldn't leave Merle.

"Are you high or some shit?" he screamed, angry himself at how stupid his brother was being. At the chance he was wasting on them. "Stop foolin' around!"

"You're the one foolin' Daryl," Merle yelled back and slid himself back into the hummer. The engine was already running, so all he had to do was rev it to cause another jolt of panic in his brother. It was enough to get him to move three quick steps away from the copter before he stalled again and started yelling. But Merle ignored his words and jerked the vehicle forward. Daryl couldn't help the next yard he ate up as his brother seemed set to leave him again. That little bit was all he needed to give up and rush the last few feet. Jump up so he could slide through the window into the passenger seat.

"There we go," Merle coo'd, triumphant enough that any anger he'd had was melted away in the face of his win. "Just the two of us. Dixon Brothers facing the world. Like it should be."

Daryl turned and punched the asshole in the arm as the copter finally took off now that the pad was clear. "What the fuck is wrong with you! That was our ticket outta this hell hole!"

Merle's glare returned and he shoved Daryl back just as hard as he'd gotten, then put his foot on the gas and started to drive them out of there, "You call yourself observant. You were so busy shitting your pants you didn't even notice one a them was bit. Ain't no way that thing's making it to Atlanta. Or if it does, it's bringing nothin' good with it."

The declaration was enough to shut Daryl up, his gaze moving back out of the hummer and toward the helicopter now fading from view. It's noise likely drawing the biters outside the stadium along with it. Not much of a reprieve, but probably enough for them to get outside and onto the roads. He stayed quiet while Merle moved the vehicle to just outside the doors it'd been brought in through. They were wide open, but for now what dead had been attacking them weren't around.

"Can't bring a lot with us," Merle started, shutting the engine down before he turned around to check what was in the back seat and how much room they had. "Let's grab what we can from the tents closest to us and the medical tent 'fore we mosey on out of here."

"And where we goin'," Daryl bit out, curled up in his seat like a petulant child. His knees drawn up to his chest, body slumping so putting his feet on the dash was more comfortable than sitting up straight. One arm hung loosely over his knees while the other was folded so he could chew at the nail of a thumb. His eyes were on the door and the path to 'freedom'.

Merle slapped him hard on the arm, "Stop mopin' and get movin'."

"Where we goin', Merle," Daryl repeated, voice harder and harsher. He'd uncurled some with the hit, but he hadn't made any further move to get to work.

His brother rolled his eyes and let out a sigh and threw out, "I don't know. Washington. You want a safe camp, right? The government's gonna protect their own. D.C.'s probably the safest place right now."

Daryl was silent for a long time, staring at Merle, before he dropped his eyes and his shoulders relaxed in that way that said he'd given up on fighting with the asshole. He always did come around to doing whatever Merle wanted. Sometimes it just took a little longer than others.

"Okay," he said softly, hand going to the door, "We're gonna have to get a different car. The gas on this is shit."

"We'll grab my bike and your truck from the lot," was the easy answer. Merle always had one of those. "Load it up with as many extra cans of gas as we can siphon. Should be enough to get us where we're going."

...

So much for Washington.

It'd ended up taking them weeks to get there with how clogged the highways were with cars. Had to abandon the truck after the third week cause the gas was being eaten up too much trying to find workarounds with the smaller roads and state freeways. Had to downsize to just a small backpack each with a couple changes of clothes and other small things that were valuable to them. Took Merle's bike the rest of the way and managed to get into the outskirts of the city within a week of losing the truck.

Any hope Daryl had of finding safety there nosedived when the found no signs of a cordoned off safe zone. Just a city full of dead they had to run from. Back into the woods of Virginia and land they knew next to nothing about. At least in Georgia, they knew the rivers and towns enough to wander safely. But here...

Daryl cursed Merle out about heading to Washington just once. Right after they'd found an old farmhouse to hole up in on the second floor while the eaters passed by trying to find them. He'd waited until their bodies weren't making noise as they walked into the bottom story and pushed themselves around the obstacle as a group all following each other in the hopes of finding something living to tear apart. Daryl wasn't stupid enough to yell while they were around. That was Merle and Daryl wasn't going to give him the opportunity to yell back while they were in danger.

He knew part of the reason Merle was so stupid about it all was he was starting to run low on his drugs. His brother had been smart enough to ration them as best he could, but that didn't make the short, forced withdrawals any easier to deal with. And Merle wasn't acting like he was ready to give it up entirely. Just told Daryl to shut up and help him find what he needed when they did find places safe enough for two people to scavenge through.

They spent another two weeks in those woods, staying close enough to DC for them to try and slip in for drugs and canned goods and ammo or guns if they were lucky enough to find them in the houses and apartments they trashed. Two weeks of Daryl just wanting to head back south. Back home. Before winter set in because Merle sure as shit weren't doing anything to try and stockpile goods. And what efforts Daryl made his brother messed up the one time he'd gone on a bender and thought it was funny as all get out to open up, eat, and then pee on the rest before passing out in his own vomit. It was all Daryl could do to make sure he didn't drown himself.

But their luck ran out two weeks after that. They were siphoning gas from car near one of the roads they remembered being far more choked up than how they found it that day when it happened. Both thought it was weird, but they didn't really know the lay of the land and after some deliberation, figured they must have come across it further down the first time around. Daryl was doing the dirty work and Merle was on watch, standing on the side of a truck that had rolled when it went off the road.

The sound of engines reached them first. Had both of them turning their heads east in confusion. It was the first time in over a month they'd heard the sound of anyone else still living. Much less multiple souls.

"That sound like a Harley to you?" Merle asked as he raised his rifle to look through the sights. "Oh! It's two Harleys! And looks like one a them crotch rockets. Suzuki."

"Three bikes?" Daryl asked, moving to Merle's Triumph to put the gas in.

Merle dropped his gun to his shoulder and stood there smiling, "Yep. Don't look like they're carrying supplies. Must have a camp close by."

They'd been talking about trying to find other survivors lately. Merle's solution to the destruction of their own meager stockpile and the coming winter. Instead of going south, just try to find someone else to mooch off of. Neither of them thought anything of it when the group came into view and could be waved down. Merle stayed up on the truck while Daryl stood next to the bike. Merle with a smile and Daryl with a suspicious glare.

The three pulled to a stop, grinning over at them. The leader leaned forward on his handlebars, "Well if that isn't a sight for sore eyes. Friendliest greeting we've gotten in a few weeks now. What are you two up to?"

"Howdy boys!" Merle called down, rifle still resting casually on his shoulder. "Just looking for a spot to rest and recoup. You wouldn't happen to have a place the two of us could stay for a spell would you?"

The leader quirked his head to the side, "Whereabouts are you two from? Don't sound like you're from around here."

Merle shook his head, "Nah. We're up from Georgia to see the sights. Thought there'd be a lot more to see, but alls we got so far is the dead man run around."

"Georgia!" the man laughed, sitting back up. "That is a bit of ways isn't it? You two must of been on the road for while. Shoot, where's my manners. I'm Jeff and this is David and Steve. We got a place, but we don't run it. You'll have to talk to the man in charge if you wanna try and stick around. That sound okay to you?"

Both Merle and Daryl knew the tone the man was using. It was the kind people got when they thought they were talking to someone stupid. Just a little mocking, a little mean. The kind of tone people didn't always realize they were using, but came when they assumed they were addressing a couple of backwoods hicks. It was exactly what Merle hoped for most of the time back before. Meant he could con them a lot easier. Daryl played his part by largely being quiet when he wasn't being loud and rude to his brother.

Merle's lips curled further and he nodded his head, thickening his accent just a bit more, "That would be mighty kind of you folks. My name's Merle and this here's my brother, Daryl. Give us a minute to get the rest of the gas in our tank and we'd be more'n happy to follow you along."

"Daryl, huh?" Jeff asked, squinting at Daryl who continued to glare while he got back to work on the tank. "He don't look like he likes me much."

"He don't like no one much," Merle laughed, hopping down from the truck and walking over to pat his brother on the back.

He hit hard enough to make Daryl stumble and let out a loud curse before he yelled at Merle, "Son of a bitch! You want this gas all over your tank, you keep that shit up and you can ride yourself right into a fire when it lights the hell up!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Merle returned, obviously pleased at the reaction he'd gotten out of his brother and Daryl realized he'd done it to help cement their image of backwoods hicks in the eyes of the trio. Keep them underestimating the two of them. Merle was wanting to go for a long con. Probably the winter and then go from there.

He smiled at Daryl before turning back to the trio and taking up small talk about their bikes that they were all too happy to return while Daryl finished up the Triumph.

...

It took an hour to ride back to the factory the group - called themselves the 'Saviors' - had taken up as their own. There weren't a huge number of them, but close to a hundred after two and a half months or so of the world ending, well... it was enough to be impressive. They had a full guard rotation, groups that went out to recruit and find people. To help the world rebuild as Jeff had put it. All thanks to their leader. Some asshole called 'Negan'.

Negan ended up being a man around Merle's age. In his 50's somewhere who liked to dress in skinny jeans and a leather jacket. He carried a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. Merle took to him immediately. He greeted the both of them with a friendly and genuine smile. Explained what the group was about. Took them on a tour. Told them the rules. Lots of simple things that were easy enough to follow but set both Daryl and Merle on edge. Explained the points system and how that worked.

Merle, of course, didn't like the idea of working for points. He didn't like the idea of not having some measure of power over his own self and the points system? It let everyone else walk all over him. So he right away started asking if there was a way he could get in on being an enforcer and not one of the ones pushed around. Negan's smile as he wrapped an arm over his brother's shoulder and started to lead him away was one Daryl would never forget.

It was the same smile Negan gave Daryl when he went to 'console' him and 'congratulate' him on his 'promotion' a year later. Right after beating Merle's head in with that damn bat of his.