An empty can. Towels and sheets scooped up into a ball in the closet. Doors carefully closed throughout the old house. Someone was here, and Daryl was hoping that someone was the same person he was searching for.

"Sophia!" He spoke loudly and clearly, unafraid at whatever else could be lurking in the shadows. It had been too long since the girl had gone missing and he was afraid that his zen had just about run out. Each cry became slightly louder, slightly more impatient. A thump from upstairs was all Daryl needed and he dashed eagerly, two steps at a time, heart racing.

"Uncle Daryl's here, Sophia, where-"

Nothing… but was that something reflecting in the patchy shimmer of a shattered glass? Something larger than…

"Well if it isn't my sweet little brother!" Merle's coarse voice cause Daryl to freeze on the spot.

"Come to rescue me?"

Daryl turned as his older brother emerged from the shadows. He looked at the blood-splattered, unwashed figure in front of him. Nothing out of the usual for Merle smell-wise, but he seemed to be missing an important appendage, much to Daryl's dismay.

"Jesus Christ, Merle.. You really did it…" Daryl hurriedly set down his hunting equipment and moved toward his brother, but was promptly pushed away.

"What'd you think would happen? The lock would magically melt away?"

"I thought that… maybe… it might have been a walker's or somethin'… I-I dunno, I was hopin' it wasn't-"

"Well it WAS, you dumb little shit," Merle spat, waving the stained stump at his younger brother, "You left me to die-"

Merle was an intimidating man at the best of times. He wasn't taller than Daryl but had a larger frame, and a dominant presence that only big brothers seemed to possess.

"And for what? A nigger? A fuckin' chink?"

"Merle, they're good people-"

Daryl's words were cut short as Merle's good hand grabbed his wrist. Daryl wilted as Merle drew closer, as though Daryl had become the prey and Merle the ravenous lion, as had been the way so many times before.

"Merle, please, I- You're sick, I have to-" Daryl looked into azure eyes that sparked with hatred, trying to find some shred of humanity but there was nothing left. His mind kept telling him to get away and defend himself. As much as he didn't want to hurt Merle, he had to do what was necessary to avoid what he feared the other man intended.

Daryl attempted to pull away, stumbling over a box beside an end table, but righted himself just as Merle lunged for him. He tried to steer a punch toward Merle's face, but the older man was quick to grab the fist in mid-swing. Merle used that momentum to propel Daryl around, restraining his arm behind his back with enough force to break his arm at the elbow if Merle yanked up on it any further. Daryl clenched his teeth against the rush of pain that coursed through the length of his arm, but refrained from moving in order not to tempt the crazed man behind him.

"Merle, please, let me go." He flinched when calloused fingers brushed the curls away from the side of his face, and hot breath tickled his ear. Merle threw him down onto a stained mattress, pressing his full weight against his younger brother and suddenly Daryl couldn't breathe, his lungs constricting painfully in his chest, his breath coming in short shallow gasps. "Merle-"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth, kid." Merle whispered venomously as his fingers trailed down the smooth curve of Daryl's face and ventured toward the small valley of whiskers on his upper lip and then to his chin. To his disgust, Daryl felt his brother's body shudder from what he could only assume was pleasure. All the anger and resentment that had been welling up inside Daryl from childhood burst forth and he screamed, pawing Merle's chest and flailing frantically.

"FUCK YOU, MERLE! Fuck you! You don't fucking own me! Not anymore!" Daryl ground out, "You - fuck!" His eyes clenched shut when Merle pressed his stumped forearm tighter against his neck, Daryl's vision became blurred and he felt his face redden and tears well up from his rage. "Jesus, just let me go!"

Daryl let out a strangled cry when he didn't expect the sudden jolt of pain against his groin, as Merle's good hand left grasped his brother's crotch and began fondling him. The young man bucked his hips in protest to the revolting action, but that only caused him to press against Merle's now rock-hard erection and receive a low, guttural moan from his assailant.

Using his good hand, Merle pinned Daryl's arms high above his head and pressed his arousal firmly against Daryl's pelvis. A wave of nausea assaulted Daryl and he tried to turn his head away to keep from seeing the terrifying hunger that burned in Merle's blue gaze but he had little time to move when fevered lips captured his own in a bruising kiss.

The kiss itself was brutal and painful as Merle crushed Daryl's lips with a force borne out of wild need. Daryl fought against him, tried to push him away with his lower body and legs, but he couldn't fight his older brother's strength. The only other way he was able to defend himself was by biting the older man's tongue before he was able to slip it into Daryl's mouth. Merle grunted from the unexpected pain and the metallic tang of blood in his mouth caused Daryl to gag, but his tormentor refused to let up his assault. Merle deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue to explore every contour of Daryl's mouth, while he spread the younger man's legs apart with a knee and breaking the kiss by roughly flipping Daryl onto his stomach.

"You see, you an' me… we got strong blood. Dixon blood," Merle's deep voice rumbled out of his chest and vibrated against Daryl's ear. A wet tongue darted out and slithered across an earlobe before Merle sucked on it and lightly nibbled, hoping to get the reaction he desired to hear from Daryl. No such sound came from the younger man, his head turned away, eyes closed tightly as if it would make the nightmare go away.

"I'm all you have now, little brother… I'm all you need…"

It was late when Daryl shambled back into camp. Glenn waved happily from the top of the RV with no response. Andrea questioned, but got no answers. Dale attempted to comfort, but was met with a forceful jerk and a grunt as the youngest Dixon crawled into his bunk.

Daryl cried in his sleep for about a week and nothing more. Deep in his dreams he heard the same whispers, echoed again and again.

"I hope you'll forgive me."

He continued looking for Sophia, of course. He had to. Carol meant too much to him to let her down, and no kid's life deserves to be cut short… not by anything.

"I hope you'll forgive me."

He feels every crossbow recoil a lot clearer now. Every squish, every sigh, every crunch. Every slam of the RV door makes a much louder sound than he remembers and he visibly jumps. He's still saying nothing.

"I hope you'll forgive me."

The group corner him, concerned for his well-being. Carol is the first to speak. No, he's fine searching for Sophia. He wants to. Then Rick. No, he doesn't need someone to go with him. Then Glenn. Yes… yes, something did happen that day. He won't talk about it, Dale. He can't. When did Lori decide to care about him? And then… then he drops to his knees, supplies spill around him. He covers his face and cries.

"I hope you'll forgive me." Daryl says as he brings the crossbow to Merle's forehead.