EM: Thanks to letmefallasleep for being the very best supporter of this story, thus far. You really make me burst with joy. I don't know what makes you like this so much, but I won't complain. I'll just keep writing. Here's another day in the Dixon's.

Disclaimer: Daryl and Merle Dixon belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

Empty

It was just a day.

The sun was shining, the game was plenty and good and he was free to do as he pleased.

No responsibilities today. Work was slow, so the boss had told him not to bother coming in. Had pissed him off for a while, but he'd brushed it off. Not like he couldn't find food, if he needed it. Not like he didn't already take a piss in the woods when he wanted to. Takin' a shit would just require a little more work. And he didn't need no heat, coz he had wood for fire.

Daddy…he let the emotions drift over him, and then away. Daddy was gone. Sometimes, the memory hit him fresh, like it was yesterday. Sometimes he couldn't even remember that the old coot was never comin' back.

And Merle.

Merle was away. Gone for the Marines. Daryl still couldn't believe he'd enlisted. It'd been three months now. Five months since their Daddy had died and three since Merle had just up and left for the Marines. He suspected that Merle wouldn't last long. Merle didn't take shit from nobody.

Didn't mean he didn't enjoy the time he had to himself. Nobody to rag on him. Nobody to tell him what to do, when to do it, or how to do it. He got to eat when he wanted, to sleep where he wanted, to piss alone, and to think in peace.

It was fucking quiet. God damn was it quiet and you couldn't take that away, couldn't give him all the money in the world to trade it away.

But…

But there was still something there, itching at him. He could feel it at his chest. He couldn't say what it was.

Looking around at the woods surrounding him, the mountains rising up to the west, the sounds eating at him, he wanted to place it. And then he knew. He knew what that feeling was suddenly. It hit him like one of his daddy's unexpected punches to the back, right across his shoulder blade.

Merle had left him.

Just up and left, without even letting him know what he was gonna do, or that he had been planning it. One minute his brother's there, the next he ain't.

And it was that emptiness, the emptiness of no Merle at his side; yelling at him, slapping him, berating him, making fun of him or correcting him that left an ache his chest bigger than he wanted to admit.

And that wasn't normal.

Daryl sighed and hitched the crossbow, Merle's crossbow, higher over his shoulder. He couldn't even go a day without not using something of Merle's. A reminder that his brother was still there. A reminder that he wasn't alone. He sucked in a breath, the crisp fall air refreshing. The leaves crackled beneath his feet and he mentally noted that he was in for a challenge this hunt. A challenge he gratefully, willingly accepted.

Goddammit, you clodding idiot! What you got, two left feet?

Daryl smirked as his brother's voice reverberated in his head. Even now he couldn't seem to not hear his voice.

Don't scare off the game, baby brother! Someone's gotta feed us.

And Daryl wondered when Merle would be back.

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A/N: Not much, but a little of something. Daryl without Merle or Daddy. I'm trying to take it slow. Cuz it's just drabbles. Moments. A mere flash of a Dixon past.

Thanks for being in my Dead world.