I do not own The Walking Dead or anything of or relating to The Walking Dead. I am not making any money from this and I wouldn't even if I could. I also do not intend any copy right infringement.

Thank you again to the guest reviewer!

Actually, thank you to everyone for the reviews. It's quite intense to see the attention the story has been getting. I apologize for the lack of updating as well. I hope it hasn't made too many people stray away.

Thanks again!

Merle holds the baby as Daryl carries the pack. There was little to argue about. Merle had stated Daryl and his crossbow would be of little use while he held the baby, and Merle seemed almost content with holding the child. There was a certain relaxation that seemed to come with holding a baby—not that Merle would ever admit to such a thing.

"Where do we go from here?" Merle asks as he shifts the baby in his arms.

Daryl shrugs. "I don't know… I guess we keep doing what we've been doing—,"

"That might sound like a good idea if it was just the two of us, li'l brother," Merle says with a furrowed brow. "But with Babe, we're a li'l restricted."

Daryl takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Man, something stinks," he says and then slowly turns to Merle.

"Don't you dare look at me, baby brother; I own up to it—,"

"Not you, dumbass," Daryl says with a grimace. "The kid," he says and Merle makes a face.

The older man shakes his head and holds the baby out. "I dealt with the last one—," Daryl fumbles as he takes the baby into one arm as his crossbow lays at his side, "—time for you to do the deed," Merle finishes.

Daryl looks down at the whimpering baby in his arms. He slowly lowers his crossbow to the ground as he stiffly moves readjusts the baby. Daryl winces his eyes as he looks around their surroundings. "Where should I—,"

"Right here," Merle says with a nod.

"On the road?" the younger man asks with his cheeks pinching up.

"Can't hurt him; sure he get's a little dirt on him, but nothing too bad." Merle drops the bag at Daryl's feet.

As Daryl unbuttons the onsie; Merle circles the two, his eyes ever vigilant on the trees and grassy fields. Daryl hushes the baby as it whimpers and squirms. "I know…" he says as he cleans the baby's bottom. "Just keep quiet long enough…" He reaches into the bag Merle dropped at his side. "I wouldn't want someone doing this to me either," he adds as he lifts the baby's feet and tucks the new diaper below.

Merle narrows his eyes as he sees movement in the trees. He cranes his neck as the low branches rustle. Quickly, Merle rushes towards the threat and takes out his hunting knife. Just as Daryl finishes the diaper change, a walker claws out of the trees, its mouth stretched open with a groan.

Daryl brings the baby into his arms as the onsie still flaps open. As Merle brings his blade under the walker's chin, Daryl's hand rises to the baby's head as the infant twists his face towards the walker. With Merle angling the knife with the walker's fall, he turns away and wipes his knife clean from the dark, dead crimson.

Daryl nods his thanks and startles as the baby boy lets out a wail. He starts bobbing the baby in his arms and hushes as Merle makes a face of distaste. "Where there's one, there's bound to be more. Shut that thing up before they take notice," Merle warns as he looks to his brother and then back to the trees the walker came from. Daryl hushes more and ounces the baby as his body vibrates with urgency. "I'm serious, Daryl; shut him up," Merle growls.

"I'm trying to," Daryl barks back with a little more anger than he intended. Merle's nose twitches as he glares back at Daryl. He takes four quick strides towards the two and places his hand over the baby's open mouth. Daryl looks down as the child struggles to free himself and then gasps for air over the muffling palm. "You're going to snuff him out, bro," Daryl grunts as he turns his torso away making Merle's hand slip away.

"Better than being eaten by biters," Merle barks. He drops his arms to his sides and lets out a loud sigh as the baby continues to cry; its wails long and loud. "Might as well just toss ourselves to them," he hollers over the baby. "Ain't no difference as long as he keeps sounding the dinner bell," he adds as he turns his head to Daryl.

"What are you worried about; it was only one," Daryl says with his eyes narrowing. "Ain't like it was a horde—,"

"What happens when there is one?" Merle asks as he steps towards his younger brother. "Are you gonna let him cry until a geek bites into your neck?" He shakes his head. "Snuff him out—be doin' him a favour," he says. "There are worse ways of dyin' out here. Snuffin' is probably the most peaceful," he adds through the side of his mouth.

"You're not killing him," Daryl says simply.

"Would you rather him die from the geeks—,"

"If it means he'll actually have a chance," Daryl growls as he takes a warning step to his brother making the baby cry harder. He looks down at the baby and takes a deep breath. He shakes his head and readjusts the infant in his arms. "He's something good," Daryl says after a moment. His eyes shyly look to his brother. "He's something good in such a shit time. The least we can do is try to makes sure he stays good."

Merle lets out a dry laugh. "When'd you become a poet, li'l brother?" he asks with a mocking smile. "You think that-that—," he rolls his hand in the direction of the baby, "—that li'l crotch droppling is a sign this world is gonna get better?" He raises his hands up and around him as if to showcase the world. "This is as good as it gets, Darlina," he says as his hands lower back to his sides. "Babe ain't gonna be in this world long. Best not get too attached to the thing," he adds with his voice lowering.

Daryl shakes his head as he watches Merle. The older man lets out a hum of laughter as Daryl's nose crinkles. "He's not dying," he says as his deep blue eyes look down at the child's beet red face. "I'm not gonna let him," he adds quietly.

"You will," Merle says passively. "If it ain't now, it'll be later. You'll be doin' something and suddenly Babe will be crawlin' towards something he shouldn't be. Who will have to deal with the ruin afterwards? Your old pal Merle," he says as he points to his chest. He shakes his head and waves a hand as the baby slows his cries to whimpers. "You keep him; that's okay—but don't come cryin' to me when his blood's on display for world." He narrows his eyes. "Tell me then all about how he's the only good left."

Merle rolls his eyes as Daryl lowers his chin to the baby's head as if unfazed by the argument. He curses under his breath as he marches back to the bag on the road and swings it over his shoulder. "You think this is a game, baby brother. You're actin' like those li'l girls who think babies are just dolls—meant to look pretty and be cute." He shakes his head. "It ain't like that; out of all the things I have said to you, you should listen to this." He heads down the road and lets out a growl of frustration. "I don't want to be runnin' for my life wonderin' if you made it out with that thing. I don't want to be worried I might lose you," he says as he turns his head back.

"You ain't gonna lose me," Daryl says as he lifts his crossbow from the ground.

"You say that like you know—,"

"If you help with him, I know I'll make it—so will you and so will he. You just need to help," he says as he approaches Merle's side. "Takes a village, right?" he adds with a bit of a smirk.

"This ain't gonna take a village, this is gonna take a city—hell, an entire continent," Merle murmurs as the two head off.

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