The moment he looked into her eyes, he knew she'd done the unthinkable. The moment he saw that mixture of shame and guilt, horror and anguish, vulnerability and rage, he knew she'd been pushed to do the inconceivable. He could tell she's doing her damnedest to keep it together, to keep all the hurt that's rolling around in her head and in her heart locked inside. He knew she was like a reservoir about to burst at the seams from the gathering pressure. Already the walls of the dam were crumbling down, the jagged pieces of concrete turning to dust long before they hit the sunbaked dirt. She ain't got no tears left to cry, he realized, his heart throbbing like a bad tooth inside his chest. Seeing Kat - his Kat - this broken scared him almost as much as nearly being bled over that trough in the Terminus slaughterhouse had.

Shit was his first and only rational thought. Over and over it played through his head, like a record player that had gotten its needle stuck in the vinyl grooves. It's the most appropriate word in his opinion. No, that ain't right, he thought as he drew in a breath, held it and then released it, slowly. Bullshit was what it all was. Complete and utter bullshit. He could feel the anger and fear and grief forming greasy Ping-Pong-sized balls in the pit of his stomach. For a moment, just one, he felt like he was going to lose what little contents were in his stomach. He bore down, though, swallowed it back, locked all the bullshit trying to force its way out right back up inside. He can't show any hint of weakness. The others were all counting on him to be strong.

She needs me to be strong.

It's that thought that rolled through Daryl's mind as he stood there, watching as Kat continued to shovel dirt into a half-full grave bearing the body of her younger sister, Jolene with her bare hands. He couldn't bring himself to speak. Anything he might want to say wouldn't bring her the comfort that she needs at that moment. Ain't like he ever claimed to be some damn orator, though. He knows that he lacks Carol's way of saying exactly what needs saying when it needs saying. And he definitely wasn't like Hershel, who had possessed a knack for offering words of wisdom and comfort when they were needed the most. He desperately wanted to reach out to her, to touch her, to draw her into his arms and let her know that he was there, that he understood exactly what she was going through, that it was gonna be okay, that she ain't gotta worry about being alone now that he'd found her, but he knows it's all bullshit. It ain't gonna be alright, it ain't ever gonna be alright, how can it be alright when this world was a shitty place that demanded so much from people who already had so damned little as it was?

It wasn't like this world had ever been a decent one. No, it had never been a good world, nice world, safe world for him and Kat. For them, it's always been a cruel, cold, and dangerous world. Yet even he's amazed at the new depths to which its sunk. He'd learned a long ass time ago that this world liked screwing with your head. And that it especially loved to coil up inside your consciousness like a timber rattler, waiting patiently for that right moment to lunge, to strike, to inject you with its crippling toxin. A venom that caused emotional and physical pain to merge together in a recipe that was designed to spell your end. He well knew what it felt like when that snake sunk it's fangs into your flesh. He knows how its poison feels as it pumps into your veins, as it undulates beneath your skin, crippling you just a little bit more with every breath you take.

He also knows that after the snake has bitten you that it will take your memories and twist them into a bowline knot, forcing you to relive every trauma, every dark moment, every horror over and over until you think you will go mad from the overload. The viper delights in your pain, in the sound of your screams, in the taste of your tears. It doesn't give a hoot about your suffering or about how you think it's all unfair. It simply coils around you, waiting for the moment when you collapse to your knees, utterly gutted with despair and begging; pleading for it all to end. It knows when you have nothing left. It knows when you are completely defenseless, at your most vulnerable. And that is when it will finally have its way with you. Then and only then will it take your mind and crush it as though it is nothing more than a field mouse it lured from its den.

Hallucinations will come and go then, some so powerful that you won't know what's real and what's not.

Shit, he thought then, even when the hallucinations ain't real, the nightmares sure as hell are.

What tears Kat had left to shed were streaming down her gore-splattered cheeks now. She bows her head, taking short, gasping breaths that make his own chest burn. He can't take it. He can't stand there and do... nothing. He just can't. Not after forty years of... everything. He was her first, she was his only, and they were all that was left of the world that ceased existing when everything went to hell. She knew his every secret, he knew her every fear. She'd let him crash on her floor whenever he showed up piss ass drunk, he'd held back her hair as she threw up after the one and only time she'd drank 'shine. She'd patched him up whenever he was on the losing end of a fight, he'd beaten the shit outta her father the one time he knocked her around. She'd taught him about what plants worked to make poultices and which would relieve pain, he'd taught her how to shoot a bow and track game.

They'd protected each other.

They'd watched out for each other.

They'd kept each other strong.

They'd helped each other to survive.

They'd loved each other.

He loved her still.

Daryl didn't know he'd crouched beside her until he was reaching for her hands. Small hands, he remembered as he took hold of them, with quick, clever fingers. Small hands that were soft as feather down as they caressed his skin, sewed his flesh together or worked out the kinks in his overtaxed muscles. Small hands that were like blocks of ice, he realized, and trembling even more violently than Merle's had whenever he was detoxing. She pulled her hands from his with a small murmur of protest, plunged them right back into the dirt, shoved more into the hole.

"Stubborn-ass woman," he muttered as he grabbed hold of her hands again. "Hey, cut it out!"

"Daryl..." she pleaded as she tried to pull her hands-free. "I gotta bury her. I gotta bury Jo."

"Quit it," he ordered in a thick voice. "Kat..."

"I gotta bury her," she repeated in a whimper. "I gotta bury Jo."

"Kat..."

"It ain't right to just leave her," she insisted. "Not without burying her, first." Her voice cracked; broke. "Damn it, she's my sister..."

"I'll do it," he told her gruffly. "A'ight? I'll bury Jo for you."

"No." She shook her head back and forth in a succession of quick, jerky movements that knocked loose whatever she'd used to tie her hair back with. Tawny brown hair spilled over her face and covered eyes he knew were the color of smoke. Eyes he saw that were rimmed in red, suspiciously wet, achingly vulnerable, and brutally sad. Seeing her like this hurt him a helluva lot worse than shooting himself in the side with his crossbow had. He could fix himself. Weren't no band-aid that could patch up her injuries. "No, I won't all-"

"Ain't up for debate."

"Daryl..."

"I said it ain't up for debate." He took her elbow and gently pulled her to her feet. "Now, c'mon," he said. "Let's go."

She gave in without another word. That she did only scared him more. His Kat would never give in this easily. She'd continue to argue just for the sake of arguing. That she didn't blister his hide told him loud and clear that she had reached her breaking point. She reached down for her bow, the one that he'd given to her before the shit hit the fan, and her quiver of arrows. Soon as she straightened, she swayed, would have fallen to the ground face-first had he not caught her against him.

"That's it." In one motion, he swept her up into his arms. "Won't go on your own? Then I'm carryin' your mule-headed ass outta here."

"Daryl, I can-"

"This ain't up for debate, either." He turned with her, looking first at Glenn who'd kept an eye out on the road for any trouble, then over at Rick, silently telling them that she was his and that he wasn't leaving her here to whatever fate decided to do with her. He saw suspicion and distrust flicker on the younger man's sweaty face. It rankled, that mistrust, but he told himself it was just the law of the land. You distrusted everyone until they'd proven themselves worthy of your trust. It was how you survived in a world where the enemy wasn't just some mindless geek hell-bent on having you for chow. They'd all been through a lot and trust had, after all, become as much of a commodity as everything else in this world.

Daryl also knew that while he could vouch for Kat, telling them how there weren't no damn body more trustworthy or more honorable than this woman, his word would only carry so much weight. It was up to Kat to earn their trust and respect. She had to earn her place in the group, same as everyone else had. And if they find that they can't accept her? Well, then, he'd find them somewhere else to live. Weren't the first time it'd been the two of them against the world. He much suspected it wasn't going to be the last time, either. He just knew that he couldn't-wouldn't, he corrected, let her go. Not after spending all these years subtly trying to find her. She was the only one left, the only other person besides Merle who'd ever given a shit about him. He wasn't giving her up. Family was everything and she was the last thing remaining that even remotely resembled that. Rick must have sensed his inner turmoil because he stepped forward and set a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

"Go," he told him in that quiet way he had. "Take care of your friend. We'll finish burying her sister."

I didn't bury Merle. Why that thought burrowed its way to the forefront of his mind at that moment, he didn't know. Now that it had wormed its way in, he couldn't let the damn thought go. Those final, unbelievable moments he'd spent with his older brother slithered into his visual field, superseding everything else in his mind. He could see Merle, his face, pale and rotting, his yellow eyes feral pools of hunger- an animal's hunger- his lips a twisted, crimson smirk as he lumbered towards him. He can see himself pushing his brother back, again and again, and again, until he realizes that he's got no choice and that he's gonna have to put his brother down like the animal he's become. He sees the sun glint off the knife that's suddenly in his hand right before he does the unthinkable, the inconceivable, the unbelievable, the unforgettable.

Shit... is all he can again think as his mind struggled against the chains of this new torture being inflicted upon him. Is that how it happened between you and Jolene, Kat? Did you find her turned and tried to push her away until you knew you had no choice but to put that arrow in her? He bent his head to look at the woman with her head cradled upon his shoulder, eyes closed and her face streaked with blood and sweat and tears. He wondered if those final haunting moments were what she was seeing, that she was relieving, that she was cursing herself over and over for having been a participant in creating.

He felt Rick squeeze his shoulder and glanced again at him. He saw the sympathy and understanding shimmering in those pale blue depths. Yeah, he knew Rick would get it, that he'd understand what happened, why she'd done what she'd done. They'd never talked about what happened that day he went off to find Merle. Not that there'd been time to discuss anything what with the Governor threatening to gut them all if they didn't hand over Michonne. Daryl much doubted that Rick would ever ask him about whether or not he found Merle, if he was okay or if he'd up and gone off on his own. If he was dead. He'd long suspected that Rick knew he'd been forced to do the one thing, the only thing, the last thing he could do for his brother.

Same as the kid did for his mom.

"Go," Rick says in that voice that somehow managed to masquerade as a gentle suggestion coated inside a firm command. "We'll finish up here and meet you back at camp."

Nothing more needed to be said at that point. Rick had said it all when he'd told him to take Kat and go back to camp. However, Daryl knew that he was also quietly telling him that she deserved a chance to prove herself, to become one of them, to be one of them. It was also Rick's way of silently acknowledging that he needed this: her, and giving it to him.

His voice was a bit shakier than he'd have liked when he said, "Thanks, man."

Rick just squeezed his shoulder again. "Don't mention it, brother."

"No-" Kat began, but Daryl cut her off before she could launch into the litany of reasons she'd try to give for why this was for her, alone, to do.

"Quiet."

"Daryl-"

"I said quiet."

For once, Katherine Mason did exactly what he told her too. Daryl figured hell must be freezing over. Weren't no damn way that Kat would ever obey an order like that. Not without breaking my balls about it, first. Then he remembered that hell was this world. This sick and sadistic world that had managed to take away so much from a people who had so damned little as it was. This cruel world that had just found a way to take a little bit more from someone else that he cared about. That, he realized as he looked again at the woman in his arms, is when you realize just how dangerous a place that this world has become. 'Cause just when you think it's over, that the pain is going to stop and the healing actually begin? That's when you find out that the snake has just found a new person to infect, to taunt, to torment.

Shit… is all he can think as he slowly made his way out of the clearing.

A/N: Hello m'dears and welcome! Let's get the legal mumbo jumbo out of the way right off—I own nothing here but for my original story concept and my cast of original characters. I promise to return the Walking Dead cast to their owners in a gently used condition once I am done.

Okay, so officially this story is set somewhere after season 5 but it obviously doesn't follow season 6. I wrote this long before season 6 was finished. This is pretty much going to be a divergence from what happens at the end of season 5.

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