Nox: This is just a short – something I purely had to get out of my system. It's not great; it just had to be said. Rest assured I will have something far greater for you in the future for our brothers concerning these scars. And can I just say that I have never felt more assured in my love for Merle more than I do now. Ladies and gentlemen, I cried like a little fucking baby when Merle saw Daryl's scars. Like a baby. I told you all that this episode would send my Muse into a tailspin. And my god am I reeling. I don't even know what to do anymore. I don't even know.

Disclaimer: The Dixons aren't mine.

Scars

Fuck if this wasn't the first time he didn't know what the fuck ta do.

Fuck.

Couldn't say shit. Couldn't do fuckin' shit. Hell, all he had was his brother, an' now?

Now he was losin' him. An' he couldn't do nothin' bout that.

'Cept follow his ass.

Follow him back to that damn prison where Officer Friendly was waitin', an' that black bitch with that fuckin' sword. The damn Chinaman. They all wanted him dead.

But he couldn't fuckin' lose Daryl.

Not again. Not after what he'd seen.

Weren't it just his goddamn luck that this is what he'd done. Gone an' let the ol' fuckin' bastard do the one thing he'd never wanted to the only person he'd ever had in the whole damn world.

Fuck.

An' now? It all made fuckin' sense.

Why Daryl had always been such a goddamn touchy lil sumbitch.

"I-I didn't know."

"Yeah. Yeah ya did."

He shoulda known. He didn't.

But he shoulda.

Shoulda known what the ol' man was gonna do to him when he'd just up an' left. He shoulda known when he'd made that choice to walk out that fuckin' door, not lookin' back on his brother, even when he felt his eyes on the back a his neck that he was leavin' him for dead.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feelin' along the base of his skull where one of his own scars twisted an' raised against his skin.

He knew what that life had been. Knew what the ol' bastard had been capable of. And he'd just left Daryl there.

That was his fuckin' sin. He knew that. Knew what kind a bastard he was, what kind a brother that made him.

But he'd never seen the scars, never knew just how far the sumbitch had gone. Daryl'd never let him see him without his shirt when he came back. After the sonuvabitch died, an' he finally went back to see Daryl again, to see just what his baby brother had gotten himself into, he could see it.

The change.

But who was he to fuckin' care. Daryl didn't let him in. He weren't 'sposed to care bout none of that shit. So they just went on livin' their cracked ass life.

They just went on. Bein' who they were. Brothers. Broken. Big fuckin' tragic mistake is what they were.

But he figured as long as they was together then it didn't matter what had happened in the past. He'd stayed with Daryl after he came back home, was there. Maybe he weren't the best brother, maybe he'd done some bad fuckin' shit.

Didn't mean he deserved to be cuffed to some goddamn roof to be left fer dead, to be eaten by dead assholes.

Hell, did his brother really think he deserved that?

"I may be the one walking away. But yer the one who's leaving. Again."

And then he had to go an' through that back in his fuckin' face? Like he didn't already fuckin' hate himself for that shit. Like he hadn't punished hisself for that every god damn day a his life when he came back.

He shook his head, jogged a little to catch up with him. He was pushin' further ahead like he was on some goddamn mission to git as far from him as he could. And he could see those fuckin' scars, just starin' him in the fuckin' face.

His brother mighta been right about one thing.

"Yer a simple-minded piece a shit!"

That had hurt. Had cut him deep, deeper than Daryl would ever know.

And maybe he were simple-minded.

Or maybe he just never wanted to believe that their ol' man could do that shit ta them. Maybe he never wanted to admit that he didn't know how to care bout someone.

He grit his teeth, grindin'em. That was the ol' bastards fault, for treatin' him like he was a fuckin' piece a worthless shit. For makin' him who he was.

But Daryl didn't know everythin' that went on up in his head.

Didn't know that he'd never stopped thinkin' bout him. Not when he'd left, no matter how fucked up that made him as a brother.

Never stopped thinkin' bout him no matter how shitty their life had ended up bein'.

Never stopped thinkin' bout him once the end a the world came tearin' through their backyard.

And he never stopped thinkin' bout him after they was separated.

He slammed his stump into a tree, sending a rippling pain up his arm. He held that pain, pulled it close, his eyes locked on Daryl's back.

Those scars would be his fuckin' reminder a how bad he'd fucked up, a the regret he'd have ta live with fer the rest a whatever goddamn life he had left.

Those scars were his scars. And he'd do whatever the fuck he had to, to make sure his brother got what he wanted. This time around, he'd be there to make shit right.

Even if Daryl hated him fer the rest a the end a the fuckin' world.

I come back to haunt you, memories will taunt you.
And I will try to love you, it's not like I'm above you.