Nox: I had most of this chapter written a while ago so it was the easiest to finish during this difficult time for me. And I figure it's about time I get an update out. Hope you like.

The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.

Fight

It took every ounce of willpower she had not to run to that bridge, to run to him, and do something. She didn't know what she could do, but she felt like she needed to do something other than stand there and be useless. There was nothing she could do though. Daryl had asked her not to. Merle, of course, did nothing. Just watched as Daryl methodically took out each and every walker; saving those people.

She was so proud of him for that. Those actions spoke volumes, painted the real picture of the man that he really was. That was the man that he'd become after all these months. A man who didn't sacrifice the lives of others for his own needs. A man who didn't hesitate to fight for those who were weaker than him. A man who had honor.

Water splashed around her ankles, bringing her back. It was the best view she had of the bridge without going too close, but it wasn't close enough. She was still too far. If something happened, she would never reach them in time, never reach him.

And then something changed. She could feel it, as Daryl raised the crossbow, pointed it toward Merle. She felt the hair on the back of her neck raise as his voice carried down to her.

She could count on her hands the number of times he had vocalized like that. Sounded like he would tear someone's throat out.

And she ran. Pushed through the water, and up the incline, falling to her hands in the process. She ran through the trees, stumbling as she went in the direction she hoped to God was the bridge. Didn't matter what he'd asked. Didn't matter how he'd asked, even if she could still feel his fingers ghosting down her jaw; rough, tentative.

She swallowed hard as her heart beat fast against her chest, the blood rushing to her face.

"You lost yer hand coz yer a simple-minded piece a shit!" She felt the air get stuck in her lungs as Daryl's voice penetrated her thoughts. She could feel the anger, and the hatred and everything that had been pent up inside him behind those words. He was pissed.

"Yeah, you don't know!" There was a terrible ripping sound and she felt her foot catch on something. She stumbled and tripped, pitched forward onto her hands and knees again.

Her heart beat frantically at the sound of Merle's voice echoing around her. If she didn't find them, didn't get to them in time, who knows what would happen between them, what they would say to each other that couldn't be taken back. She may have had her reservations about Merle for what he had done to Maggie and Glenn, but that didn't mean she wanted Daryl to lose the only family he had left in this world.

When she looked up she caught a flicker of blue through the trees, and Daryl was kneeling on the ground just a few feet in front of her, staring back at her.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as his face twisted in shame and anger as he tore his gaze away from hers.

"I-I-I didn't know." He jerked Merle's hands off of him, fumbling to pick up the things he dropped, fumbling with something on his back. She sat back on her heels, her hands to her mouth as the smell of blood and dirt invaded her nose. She knew what he was trying to cover up. Knew it as her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Yeah, ya did." His voice shook as he pulled his pack across his shoulders. And she couldn't even breathe, couldn't even find the strength to stand on her feet.

"He did the same to you." She felt the tears slide down her cheeks, remembering those scars. She could still feel them, the raised skin, the rough edges, and the mutilation that had been purposefully done to his body. There was a single-mindedness that had been exacted in those scars; a fine, precise fear that had been carved into his skin that he would never escape. She had felt it beneath her fingers, beneath her own trembling skin as he let her touch them, caress them, know them in a way she suspected he never let anyone before her.

Her fingers trembled at the memory.

"That's why you left first." Hearing that Merle had suffered that same fate and left Daryl, alone, only made the anger within her boil. How could he have done that? How could he have left the only person who mattered to bear that weight alone?

"I had to man. I would a killed him otherwise." Excuses. All she could hear were these goddamn excuses. Merle should have stayed for Daryl, should have protected him from that kind of pain. Merle should have been there for Daryl like the family that he was.

At least, that's what she wanted to believe. Because she could still hear the tortured agony in Merle's voice. Knew in her heart that if Daryl had suffered so had Merle.

She rose to her feet, and took the last few steps toward them. The brush underneath gave her away, snapping, and Daryl's eyes found her again. He looked pissed, and hurt. But most of all, he looked ashamed.

"Where ya goin'?" And she couldn't stop the way her chest clenched at the way he looked so pained, so lost as he walked away from Merle, his shoulders hunched against him.

And what could she do but stand there and watch as his eyes found hers again, the blue shining bright.

"Back where I belong," he cried out, sounding so much like a child. She felt her eyes well up, at his words, at the way he held her gaze, at the way his voice caught on the last word. And all she wanted to do was tell him that he did belong with them. That no matter where he went he would always have a place in her heart. But she just nodded as she chewed her bottom lip.

"I can't go with you. I-" Daryl couldn't believe that Carol was seein' this shit happen. He couldn't believe that Merle was tryin' ta leave him again. He couldn't think bout no one but hisself. Couldn't just fer once, try to be his brother. And if Merle weren't gonna try then fuck it. He weren't gonna try neither.

"I tried to kill that black bitch. Damn near killed the Chinese kid." Merle sounded fuckin' desperate. Like a man who was losin' somethin'. What about what he was losin'? What about what he wanted? He couldn't tear his gaze away from Carol, couldn't think long enough to know what he was about to do.

Merle always had a fuckin' excuse.

"He's Korean." But he weren't gonna let Merle treat the rest of his people like he'd let Merle treat him his whole life.

"Whatever. Doesn't matter man. I just can't go with ya." Merle'd never been able to choose him. Never chose him ever. When they mama died, he chose to stay gone. Never came back home, never even bothered to check up on him. Just gone. When they ol' man done an' tried to kill him, Merle just acted like nothin' ever happened. Merle just got up an' walked away. He just left. Just like he was gonna do now.

Coz that's what he was good at.

"Ya know, I may be the one the walking away, but yer the one that's leaving. Again." Merle had left so many times he couldn't ever remember his brother bein' round long. Not after he was grown. And he was sick a havin' to follow Merle round like that was what he was supposed to do. Like that his was goddamned purpose in life.

What about what he wanted? What about what he had to give up when he'd left with Merle? What about the woman standin' behind him, who'd come all that fuckin' way, riskin' her goddamn life just to find him?

Daryl turned to find her, still hovering just behind him. And the look of barely contained sadness on her face that made him want to run into the familiarity of the trees and never come back. But he couldn't leave her now, not after what she'd done for him. Not when he could feel somethin' just sittin' in his chest when he looked at her.

He couldn't go with Merle. Not when Merle was still thinkin' bout Merle. Didn't matter what he wanted. Didn't matter that he wanted to go back to the people who'd given him somethin' he'd never had. Not when he wanted to turn round and into the waitin' arms a the woman standin' right fuckin' there.

But he couldn't fuckin' do it. Couldn't sit there and watch her look at him like he was some fucked up little kid who needed his Ma to hold him, and kiss him, and whisper shit into his ear.

He grit his teeth hard, his jaw achin' from the effort. His Ma had never, ever, given him that neither.

And he ran. Coz that was what he knew best.

"Daryl!" She screamed, rising to her feet unsteadily, attemptin' to go after him. Merle dropped his head, feelin' a hole open up in his chest. He'd gone an' done it again. Fucked up the only thing he should a been able to do right.

"Daryl…" she watched him practically run ahead, ignoring her call. He didn't feel nothin' fer her. Not even when she wrapped her arms around herself. She just needed to let'im go. Daryl needed his space, an' he didn't want nobody comin' after him. Merle knew that better than he knew how to handle Daryl right in his face.

"Let'im go sweetheart," he called out to her. She turned on her heels fast. He didn't think she would respond to him, an' not with that fuckin' look in her eyes.

"This is your fault," she spat harshly, pointing at him with her bloodied hands.

He looked up, anger suddenly boilin' inside him. Who the fuck was she to talk ta him like that? Weren't no way he were gonna let no fuckin' mousey bitch git away with that.

He stalked toward her, felt the anger of her words build him up, felt the anger of what he'd done to piss off Daryl build him up even further, felt the anger of all the fucked up shit he'd done since the world had gone to hell, an' grabbed her.

By the throat.

She tried to back away; her feet fumbling beneath her, catchin' on anything and everything, but she couldn't get away. And his hand felt fuckin' good closin' round her neck, squeezin' her soft, weak flesh the way it did. It was a thin thing, just small enough for his fingers to almost close all the way around.

"Ya don't fuckin' know nothin'," he whispered dangerously, holdin' her wide-eyed gaze with his own. He liked the way she looked, scared and tremblin' before him. He liked the way it made him feel better.

But he didn't like the way it made him like he was doin' somethin' wrong either. The hell was that shit? He never felt that – that guilt of doin' somethin' wrong. He was never wrong.

Least, he never let himself think he were wrong.

But now this bitch with the warm blue eyes that couldn't seem to stop lookin' at him made him feel like he were all fuckin' wrong. Like if he did anything stupid, he'd fuck it up with Daryl, again.

And he was already in the shitter on that one.

"Fuck," he growled out, letting his hand fall from her throat. She collapsed to the ground, gasping quietly. "Fuck!" He whirled around, the trees spinning green around him, and he let everything just blur together.

"I know," she panted out from her place on the ground, clutching at her throat, "that you're better than this." He turned to her, growling, thrusting his bladed arm in her face.

"You don't know shit bout me mouse." She rose to her feet, rubbing at her neck, wincing as she coughed violently. He was worried suddenly; worried about what Daryl would do now that he'd fucked with his woman.

"I know," she continued hoarsely, "that Daryl would never have come with you if he didn't think you were worth it." She started coughing again, bending at the waist.

He felt his blood boil again and he ran at her, grabbing her by the jaw this time, forcing her against the tree at her back. If he thought about what he was doin', he would figure out that he was fuckin' stupid fer doin' this. He would know that Daryl would fuckin' fight him fer even touchin' a woman that he even knew. But he weren't thinkin'.

And Merle sure as fuck didn't care right then.

"The hell do you think know?" he whispered, squeezing hard. She flinched, reaching up and taking hold of his arm. She didn't look scared this time. And he didn't like the way her hand felt on his arm, the way his skin tingled beneath her fingers.

"I know that Daryl cares more than he lets on," she said softly, eyes drifting from his. "I know that he wanted to find you, every day that you were gone." He recognized that desperation in her eyes, in her voice. He'd felt that more times than he would ever admit to anybody.

"He'd never admit that to anybody," she confessed, eyes apologetic, "because he knew how the group felt about you." And then she squeezed his arm gently, trailed her fingers up his arm, and pulled softly at the hand that held her jaw. He couldn't do nothin' but let her, couldn't stop her. He didn't have it in him. He didn't know how too.

"But I know that he wants you to go with him, back to the prison. He's always wanted you with him."

She still hadn't looked at him with anger or hatred or fear for what he was doin' to her, an' she was still tryin' to get him to go back to the fuckin' prison with Daryl.

What the hell kind a woman does that?

He only knew one woman who'd ever put up with his shit but she were gone now. He didn't there were another who'd ever fight back. 'Specially not one who looked after his little brother.

"So you can leave again," she said cautiously, pulling his hand away from her face, "or you can come with us." What the hell kind a proposition was that? Before his argument with Daryl had ever ended there'd only ever been one solution.

There was only ever one thing fer him to do.

Daryl was the only person in the whole fuckin' world that mattered. Where Daryl went, he had to follow. What Daryl did, he would have to try and do. Who Daryl called family, he would have to try and accept. Or he'd just not kill'em. Either way, he weren't leavin' Daryl again.

No matter what he'd said earlier.

Didn't matter if nobody ever believed him neither. He'd go wherever Daryl went. He'd protect his little brother.

Coz that's what he fuckin' did.

He pushed away from the mouse, and turned away, hopin' she didn't see everything on his face.

"Course I'm goin', ya dumb broad." He heard her sigh heavily, and the crack of the branches beneath her feet as she started walking. He turned back around to find her walking in the direction Daryl had gone.

"The fuck ya goin'?" She didn't even bother to turn and answer him. Just kept walkin', still massaging her throat.

"We have to catch up with him," she called back. She glanced over her shoulder, her brow raised. "He's fast you know."

He snorted, and jogged to catch up with her, feeling like he weighed more than he should. He was fuckin' tired now. "Know that better'n you fuckin' do." He caught the end of her smile as he got to her side, an' felt somethin' tug inside of him.

"Of course you do," she said.

"Ya mockin' me?" He watched as she bit her bottom lip, and shrugged her shoulders. He reached out quick-like, and grabbed her shoulder to stop her. She tensed up beneath his grip. He leaned in close, and felt the slightest bit of guilt as she leaned away from him, fear just a shadow behind her eyes now.

"Don't think you know me just coz you know somethin' bout Daryl," he murmured. She swallowed hard, but she never looked away from him.

And the way she held his gaze made him think she made of stronger stuff than he had thought before.

"Carol?" She jerked away from him, her eyes seeking the voice that had called out to her. She watched Daryl shift between the shadows of the trees and approach them. Merle's hand still gripped her shoulder tight, and her throat still hurt but she'd felt more alive in seeing him.

"Daryl," she said breathlessly and pulled herself free of Merle's grip, feeling his fingers linger as they trailed against her arm. She'd never wanted to get away from him more than in that moment.

But she'd never wanted to help someone more than Merle Dixon than when he had looked at her with such agony - in that moment between, when she had asked him if he was coming and he told her he was. It was like nothing had mattered but that he go with Daryl, even if that meant the end of everything. Even if that meant Daryl hated him.

"Ya alright?" Daryl said warily, looking at her face and hands, noting her ragged breathing.

"I'm fine Daryl," she said hurriedly, before it turned into another fight, before it turned into something they truly couldn't come back from. "I'm okay." She reached out to touch his arm, something she rarely did because he never really liked to be touched.

But for once, she needed it. Maybe she wasn't okay, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"I'm okay," she murmured again, closing her eyes, letting the feel of his skin beneath her fingers calm her. She listened to the swell of his breath next to her, smelled the sweat and the mixture of Daryl that was dirt, and leather, and musk.

She knew she was finally okay when these things calmed her beating heart beneath her chest.

"He didn't do nothin' to ya, did he?" he growled out, startling her eyes open. She smiled thinly, and knew that she couldn't really talk about what she and Merle had 'discussed' before he'd shown up. Not right now at least. She would save that for another time. For now, she just wanted to go.

Whether that was back to the prison, or wherever. She just wanted to go, with him, away from here.

"Daryl, I told you. I'm okay." He studied her closely, and she knew he didn't believe her. Could feel it in the way he stared so intently, blue eyes sharp. Could sense it in the way he shifted closer to her.

She thought he was going to address it again, maybe even ask why her throat was red or her voice was hoarse. But he did neither of those things. Instead, he asked the one thing she wasn't prepared for.

"Why'd ya come?" She couldn't stop the way her fingers twitched against his arm, and he didn't miss it either. She swallowed the emotions down, pulled her hand away, turned from him.

And she started walking away from him. The sudden need to escape from him urgent. She could feel her emotions swallowing her up, drowning her.

Did she tell him the truth? Did she tell him the reason why she'd risked her life just to find him, when on the off chance she may have never found him? Did she risk losing what they had for something that may never be? Did she take that chance?

Did she take the chance that, just maybe, he felt the same?

"Carol," he whispered from behind her, his firm grip closing around her shoulder. She slowed to a halt as his hand slid across her shoulder softly, his fingers ghosting under her chin. He pulled her gaze to his, gently.

And his touch was so vastly different from Merle's she couldn't help the way her eyes welled up. He'd only been this gentle with her once before, and this time she wasn't lost and near-death. She couldn't stop her heart from fluttering in her chest, or the tears from falling down her cheeks.

Daryl pulled away quickly, and she knew she'd scared him off. But she wasn't going to let him go that easy. Not again.

"Daryl," she said hoarsely, and grabbed hold of his hand before he put any more distance between them. She felt him flinch, and pull back. But she didn't let go of his grip. His blue eyes searched hers wildly, his body tensed to run. "I came for you," she forced out, the truest admission she could make without giving away more than either of them could handle. His eyes widened slightly, but his arm relaxed a little.

"I…" She couldn't look him in the eyes she was so nervous. She could only feel the callouses of his fingers, the fine scars on the back of his hand, and the way it trembled in hers.

But maybe now was as good a time as any to finally tell him what she'd been holding deep in her heart for all this time. Maybe now was finally the time to let him know just how much he meant to her.

"I came because I-"

"Don't mind ol' Merle," he said brusquely, pushing between them, separating their hands suddenly. He glanced down at her, lips quirked up in a wicked smile, something dark flashing behind his eyes. She felt her face get hot, and the anger simmer low in her belly.

"Got people ta git back to," Merle remarked lightly, looking over his shoulder, "don't we?" And she wanted to smack the smile off his face. She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat and squeeze. He knew exactly what he was doing and how much it would anger her. How he'd figured that out, she didn't know.

She felt her nails dig painfully into her palms, and her fists began to shake. Merle was going to be trouble and she wasn't sure how much she wanted to put up with it. But if he kept pushing her, he was going to regret it. She would make sure of it. She wasn't going to let him do anything like he'd done before to her ever again. He may have caught her off guard, he may be Daryl's brother, he may be twice her size.

But she would never let him touch her again.

She froze as a hand touched hers. She glanced down to see Daryl's weathered hand curl gently around hers, and then she looked up.

He held her eyes as he patiently, gently, pried her fingers open. She felt the tension release from her shoulders and her other hand uncurled. And when his fingers swept across her palm the breath hitched in her throat.

He pulled his hand away from her slowly, her fingers trailing over his as he pulled away.

"Let's go," he murmured and started walking, leaving her behind to stare at his back.

She watched as he caught up with Merle and they started walking side-by-side. Not close, but still in tandem. Daryl kept his head low, chin down, crossbow tucked in close. She hated the way his shirt flapped against his legs, hated the way he'd been exposed.

Merle just kept walking, head held high, shoulders back. Looking as if he didn't care where he was going or who he was with. She hated that arrogance about him, even after all that he had done. Like he hadn't almost abandoned Daryl.

She hated how much of each other that they were though. How much they were brothers. No matter how different they looked, how different they acted and walked, they still had the same gait. She couldn't watch them walk away, and not see the same thing. The weight of suffering in their shoulder, as if they carried the same burden. It was the same stooped back, hunched shoulders. Painful, heavy.

Purposeful.

And then they both stopped and looked back at her. The motion was so similar she couldn't help but stare.

"Ya comin' or what?" Merle barked back, gesturing at her with the metal contraption.

But it was Daryl that she was watching, as he jerked his head, calling her. And her feet carried her away before she even thought to process the motion.

She hurried to their sides, standing between them.

"Ya keep us waitin' woman, an' ya might get lost. Won't be lookin' fer ya," Merle said, chuckling. She didn't miss the way his eyes darkened and narrowed, falling to her neck. The laughter died on his tongue, and he looked away before she did.

"Speak fer yerself," Daryl muttered, and she knew she was just as surprised as Merle was. Suddenly his arm was around her shoulders, heavy. He pulled her close against his chest. Daryl's face darkened, and his hands gripped the crossbow tighter.

"Well whaddaya know?" And he leaned down into her face, brows raised. "Lil' brother must like ya somethin' special," he suggested, running his tongue across his bottom lip.

She felt her face get hot, for the third time that day, and knew then that no matter what Merle tried to be, he was nothing more than a vulgar, annoying older brother who just couldn't help himself, despite how dangerous he could also be.

"Go to hell," she ground out between her teeth as she shoved at his chest and his metal arm raked against her shoulders and fell away. She stormed off, not bothering to see if they followed her.

Merle's bellowing laugh erupted around them, and she almost turned back around. But the resounding oomph stopped her.

"Goddammit Daryl," he growled.

She felt her lips turn up, slightly.

A/N: I hope ya'll can like Merle here even if I did make him a little rough. I also have him thinking back to a woman. Some of my readers may know who she is, and my infrequent readers may not. You can find her in The Bad, the Ugly, and the Dixons.

I do so adore you all. Do you know that?