A/N: Hello fellow Walking Dead fans, nice to meet you! I just had to write this after last night's episode, a little bit of catharsis for all the emotions. Thank you for stopping by and I hope you enjoy. :) For now this is a one-shot.

Warning: Spoilers for episode 3.15 This Sorrowful Life. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I do not own Walking Dead or it's character, I am merely borrowing them and will put them back when I'm done.

The sun had nearly set and darkness was creeping up on the prison. Daryl had yet to return from retrieving Merle and the group was on edge, nervous, worried that something had happened. Rick paced on the guard tower's narrow walkway, listening and looking for any sign of Daryl. Michonne leaned on the railing, her back to the forest, watching Rick with her arms crossed. The group had heeded Daryl's request not to come after him for today but Rick knew if the hunter hadn't returned by morning they'd be out looking for him. He let out a sigh and grasped the railing, head down and eyes closed – many thoughts plagued his mind.

"I'm sorry for even considering it. The deal with the Governor. Daryl was right, that ain't us." He chanced a look at Michonne.

"Don't be." Michonne replied, leveling a stare at him. It was all she was going to say on the matter. She couldn't say she blamed him for considering the offer – she was new to the group and they were a close-knit unit with kids to think about. But she was grateful both Rick and Merle decided to let her go. Well she was more surprised that Merle let her go but grateful, nonetheless.

The sound of gravel churning and an engine running caught their attention. A car was approaching the prison. Rick took a closer look with the scope but with darkness falling and the car's headlights he couldn't see much.

"Looks like a black car . . ."

"Let me see." Rick handed the gun to Michonne to take a closer look.

"That's the car Merle hotwired but I can't see who's driving it."

The car stopped at the gate, waiting. Then, both Rick and Michonne could see Daryl waving his crossbow from the driver-side window. The rest of the group, who had been outside pretending to enjoy the summer evening air but were actually anxiously awaiting Daryl's return, approached the gate and it was Carol that unlocked and slid it open for him. Rick and Michonne came down from the watchtower and joined the rest of the group.

Relief washed over Rick, grateful to see Daryl alive but it was short-lived when, instead of parking the car, Daryl drove it into the field, near the graves of those they had lost, and stopped. The car door opened and he stepped out. Even from this distance everyone could tell something was wrong.

Rick and the rest of the group picked up the pace as Daryl walked to the back of the car and popped the trunk. He braced his arms on the car and stood there, staring into the trunk, lost in his own thoughts as the group approached. The smell of death assaulted their noses and made their eyes water.

"Daryl?" Carol questioned.

Ignoring her, Daryl reached into the trunk and heaved Merle's body from it with a loud grunt. Daryl's arms were wrapped around Merle's shoulders and his head lolled to the side, out of the group's vision. The weight was too much for an exhausted Daryl and his legs collapsed underneath him. Everyone let out a collective gasp at the sight of Merle's face, fully realizing what had happened – Daryl was forced to take down his own walker-turned brother. He sat there, eyes squeezed shut and hunched over his dead brother's body, grasping it so tightly his knuckles were white. Not a sound escaped him but as Rick got closer he could tell Daryl was shaking, badly, trying to hold his emotions at bay. He ordered Glenn to retrieve a shovel and Maggie back up to the watchtower to keep guard.

"Daryl? Daryl, let me help you with him." Rick knelt down next to the Dixon brothers and reached a hand towards Merle.

"Don't touch him!" Daryl reacted like a rattlesnake, snarling at Rick and violently shoving him away, glaring him down. The pain in those blue eyes floored Rick. Having just lost Lori himself he was no stranger to grief but Daryl's pain was different – it was volatile, red-hot and burning. It terrified Rick to see Daryl that way – usually the hunter was reserved unless his temper was provoked but this raw, hurting emotion he was seeing was completely new.

"Okay, okay, I won't touch him," Rick's hands were up in a sign of surrender, "I've got Glenn bringing you a shovel so whenever you're ready . . . And we're here for you okay? All of us."

Rick stood up and backed away to give Daryl some space. Glenn returned with the shovel and leaned it against the car. Carol ushered the rest of the group away, knowing Daryl wouldn't appreciate all the onlookers. But she and Rick stayed, keeping their distance; they stood by in silent support.

Eventually Daryl slid his brother from his lap and made it to his feet. Grabbing the shovel he stalked to what was supposed to be Carol's grave and re-opened the earth. He was tired, physically and emotionally, and he didn't much see the point in digging a new grave when one was already available and easier to dig out.

Finally, sweaty and covered in dirt and grime, Daryl had the grave dug up. He stuck the shovel in the ground and approached Merle's body. He grabbed Merle from under his arms and, trying to ignore his brother's now mutilated face, tugged and heaved and pulled until the body lay where it would spend eternity.

Rick approached again, cautiously, as Daryl grabbed for the shovel.

"I can do that for you – you're exhausted, Daryl."

"No. Jus' leave me be." Daryl turned and started shoveling dirt back into the grave. Fatigue had made his shaking worse but he was determined to see this through. Rick sighed and walked away, towards the prison. Carol placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him an understanding look. He nodded and continued walking. Carol turned back to Daryl and silently waited.

When he had the earth packed down Daryl pushed the shovel into the ground at the head of the grave as a temporary grave marker and finally fell to his knees as a sob escaped him, he couldn't hold it back any longer. Waves of grief rolled through him and tears made tracks down his face. He hadn't cried in years – never found much use in it as a child and swore when he was 8-years-old that he'd never do it again but he found himself breaking that promise today. Carol sat down next to him but didn't offer the comfort of a shoulder to cry on knowing Daryl wouldn't take it. She could see the emotions rolling through him in the way his body shuddered and tensed; every once in a while a sound, a whimpering cry, escaped his lips – still, he tried to hide his pain with silence.

Patiently she waited, waited until she saw the tension leave his body. His emotions were spent, and she shuffled closer to him but still did not touch.

"He did it fer me." His voice was hoarse and broken; he didn't elaborate so Carol asked.

"What happened?"

"He drew walkers to the meetin' place and took out a few o' the Governor's men . . . Not the Gov though, din' see his body lyin' around. Probably got to Merle first. Killed him and left him to turn. And then I found him . . . an' . . . an' had to put him down." Another, weaker, wave of emotion rolled through him but it didn't last, he was too spent. Carol gently placed a hand on his arm. He didn't move it away. To her surprise he leaned over and lay his temple on her shoulder and breathed a heavy sigh, shoulders sinking.

"I'm sorry about your brother, Daryl."

"Me too."