DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Walking Dead. I do own this crazy brain of mine that likes to make things up.
Quick A/N: This is shorter update that I'm posting to tide myself over until I can find the time to write again. Who knows when that will be, so I've got to take it as it comes. Enjoy!
"The fuck ya been, Merle?"
Carol was startled out of the uncomfortable silence that permeated the group around the campfire to the site of Daryl stalking across the clearing. Rick followed closely behind the younger Dixon brother, who, at the moment, only had eyes for his brother.
"Baby bro!" Merle exclaimed, rising to his feet and setting his empty coffee cup aside. Despite his repeated requests, Carol had refused to refill the mug. Merle opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Ain't ya a sight for sore eyes!"
"Can it, asshole, and answer me!" Daryl scoffed, coming to a halt just inside the loose circle of people that surrounded the fire. He crossed his arms and glared daggers at his older brother. Carol couldn't help but grin. She was proud of him for not immediately buckling to the fact that his brother had returned from the dead. She'd seen the haunted look in Daryl's eyes often enough. She had no reason to doubt that Merle's ghost wasn't the reason behind his earlier outburst, and from the barely contained rage boiling underneath his current anger, she knew that Merle wasn't going to get a free pass to come walking back into his life after all that happened since his disappearance.
Merle chuckled, a low threatening sound, and slowly lowered his outstretched arms when it became apparent that Daryl wasn't going to welcome him back willingly. Rick shifted uncomfortably at Daryl's side, and Carol was suddenly apprehensive. Whatever conversation had taken place between their leader and his second in the woods, she could tell that Rick wasn't happy with the outcome.
"Ya ain't happy ta see me," Merle nodded. It was a statement, not a question. "S'pose I deserve that."
"Ya think?" Daryl sneered, gesturing angrily. "Ya done cut off yer fucking hand and didn't even bother comin' back to the quarry, ya dipshit! I thought you was dead all this time. And now here ya are, same ol' Merle, come gallivantin' back and expectin' people ta be happy about it!"
The younger Dixon started pacing and muttering to himself under his breath. Merle watched, nonplussed. It was obvious to the onlookers in the group, knowing Daryl the way that only they could after long months spent together trying to survive, that this wasn't the first time this scene had played out between the two brothers. Carol saw varying degrees of understanding, mutual anger, and upset in the faces of her friends as she looked around. Her heart swelled with love for all of them in that moment. Months ago, before the experiences at the farm, even before the CDC, this spectacle would have been observed with very different opinions.
No one knew the extent of the history that the two brothers shared, even Carol. But she knew abuse when she saw it. She knew what a victim looked like, and right now, she saw two of them in front of her. Daryl stopped pacing and muttering in that moment, quickly closing the distance between himself and his older brother.
"I ain't askin' again, Merle, so ya better fuckin' answer me this time. Where the fuck ya been?" Daryl pushed into his brother's personal space and was right in Merle's face, tone quiet and threatening.
"Been doin' what I do best, Darylena," Merle smirked. "Lookin' out for me!"
Carol held her breath as she watched Daryl's fist curl and prepared for him to knock Merle over into the campfire.
That moment didn't come.
The younger Dixon glared for a few more seconds and then spit at his brother's feet before turning on his heel and heading towards the tent that he had shared with her and T-Dog the previous night.
"Ya do what ya need to, Rick, but leave me outta this," Daryl snarled back over his shoulder. "I ain't speakin' ta him again as of right now."
Carol sighed heavily, echoing Rick's own exasperated breath as the man placed a hand on the back of his neck and sent a sheepish glance her way. She nodded, grabbing two empty mugs and busied herself with filling them with the last of the coffee.
She knew what she had to do, and set off after Daryl with his belated 'peace offering'.