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The last week at the camp had actually gone pretty well. The group seemed to find a rhythm that accomplished everything they needed to do, but left little time for problems between the members to develop. Daryl still went hunting, when he wasn't looking after Merle. T-Dog and Rick had fashioned a sort of prosthesis from parts Glen had scavenged from an auto repair shop. Merle seemed ok for the first few days, hunting with Daryl and mostly keeping to himself. Merle was still ornery and rude, but he wasn't dangerous as long as he wasn't taking the drugs. But Daryl could tell that by the middle of the week, Merle was gonna break. He knew from experience that Merle was gonna go through hell the first week of withdrawal, and he wanted to spare his brother and all of the others.
Daryl had decided it was his responsibility to get Merle through it, though Rick, having been a cop, had plenty of experience. Rick had offered to help Daryl, work in shifts with Merle if needed. But Daryl was proud and he knew that Merle wouldn't want anyone seeing him like that. Daryl moved their tent even farther from the group, next to a small trail in the woods.
"Daryl, its gonna be hard dealing with him yourself. Shane and I can help take some of it off you," Rick said.
Daryl glanced over at Shane whose expression basically said, "Fuck you redneck!"
"No man, its alright, I'm used to Merle kickin my ass when he's like this and he's used to me kickin his right back. Just give me a while, and hell be fine," Daryl stated.
He motioned for Rick to come off to the side with him.
"Hey, make sure you keep everyone away from us, I don't think Merle would do anything on purpose but keep the women and kids out of here. You need somethin make sure you send Dale, he's the only one Merle might not kill just for breathin," he smirked.
Rick clapped Daryl on the shoulder and gave him a small grin, "Ok brother, you got it. Good luck."
Shane and Rick began to walk back towards the rest of the camp when Shane turned around and gave Daryl the finger. It took all Daryl had not to put a bolt through his eye, or better yet right in his balls.
Daryl climbed into the tent where Merle was tossing and turning, his face pale and covered in sweat. Daryl thought back to the first day the group had come back with Rick. Everyone seemed relieved if not joyful, but Shane had just gone quiet and silently sulked. Daryl didn't like Shane to begin with and he figured Shane was just getting what he deserved for fucking his best friends wife, and Rick seemed like a good man. He remembered the way Rick had taken Sophia in, then the next day the way he looked at Carols bruises, turning her face in his hands gently, no blame in his eyes. Daryl had smiled a little when Rick had come out of Ed's tent after having a "serious talk" with him. His knuckles had been bloodied, and he had some blood splatter his shirt. He hadn't killed Ed, just gave him reason to ever think twice about bothering Sophia and Carol again.
Daryl went back to the night he had watched over her in the tent. She had looked so fragile, as if she might break. He had reached out his hand a couple of times, just to touch her skin, to feel her. But he had pulled away every time. He had been afraid of scaring her or hurting her more. He wasn't a gentle man. He remembered the way she looked; The way the purple, almost black bruise stood out so starkly against her pale, almost translucent skin. The dried blood gathered at the corner of her mouth that he had dabbed at with his red bandana. Her every breath had seemed labored and painful from the injuries to her throat and probably a broken rib or two.
He had seen her just this morning down at the quarry with Andrea washing clothes. Even though she seemed to be healing ok, she still walked a little stiffly and the bruises were still on her skin. Other than that though, he was glad that she seemed so relaxed. She seemed to know that no on in the camp, save maybe Shane, Daryl thought, was going to let Ed anywhere near her or Sophia. He knew he would feel better though when he was back at the camp so he could keep an eye on her.
When she and Andrea were doing the wash they had been flinging water at each other. He pictured the way the water drops had clung to her neck and slid down to the front of her vee neck tank, where they disappeared into the shadow between her tits. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he thought about the waters path and how sweet her skin would taste on his tongue. He was shaken from his rather nice visualization from Merle struggling to sit up.
"The fuck, where am I…" Merle didn't get to finish his sentence; he just turned to the side and vomited right on Daryl's bedroll.
"Motherfucker!" Daryl yelled. As Merle rolled back over, seemingly feeling a bit better and drifted off to sleep, Daryl looked at his brother and then looked at his bedroll.
He put his head in his hands. "Fuck my life," he muttered.
