EM: So I'd just like to say thanks to ArmedWithMyComputer and TearsOfTheForgotten. You've both been around since the beginning and have been reviewing since the beginning, probably for every chapter. It really means a lot to me to know that you guys are still here, and you still like this. That doesn't exclude the rest of you either. The Dixon's don't speak to me half as fast as they normally would without all of you. So, thanks.

Disclaimer: The Dixons belong to Robert Kirkman and AMC.

Warning: Rated M for Drug Use, Graphic Child Abuse and Suicidal Thoughts

Waitin'

He shoulda left. Shouldn'ta stayed.

He couldn't take watchin' Merle shoot that shit up his arm. It was like watchin' him die, little by little, and he couldn't do nothin' bout it. Like Merle was tryin' ta kill himself.

But he couldn't not stay at his brother's side. Merle was gonna need him, when the high was too high, and the low came rushin' up to kick him in the balls.

"Don't ya wanna give it a try baby brother?" He always asked. Every single time he shot the shit, he always tried to git him to do it with him. But Daryl weren't no fool. He'd seen what that fuckin' shit did to his brother. Seen what it done to the ol' man.

It turned him inside out. Made him a shell a what he coulda been. Played around with who Merle really was and then tossed him in the gutter when it was finished.

Course, he knew he couldn't blame it on Merle. That was the fuckin' problem. It was all the ol' man's fault.

Fuckin' sonuvabitch. If he were here, they'd prob'ly be shootin' up together, sick as that thought was.

He could still sorta remember the day the ol' man had ruined Merle's life, ferfuckinever. Though now, Merle wouldn't remember it the same it way, wouldn't admit to that.

He weren't nothin' but a little kid then, couldn't even remember most of those days. But he could remember that one. Just like one of the ol' man's cigarette burns, permanently stamped into his skin, 'cept in his memory.

"Fuckin' take it like a man, boy." Daddy had Merle pinned to the ground, both his legs under one a his, an arm under the other. And then he held Merle's arm, a needle full a somethin' whitish. He didn't no what it were, but he knew it shouldn't be injected by no needle. Knew it weren't nothin' good.

And Merle didn't want it. He was fightin' tooth and nail to get away from daddy and that needle. Even got a punch in across daddy's face. Daryl couldn't believe daddy didn't do nothin' bout that.

"Yur gonna like it boy, trust me." Even Daryl knew that you never trusted daddy when he said that.

"Fuck you ol' man!"

But it didn't matter how much strugglin' Merle put up. Daddy sat on him then, both legs holdin' down the one arm, and daddy slid that needle in real quick. Even when Merle bit his thigh, pounded his back, kicked and stomped, daddy didn't flinch.

After that white liquid was gone, and the needle discarded on the floor, Merle gave up. Slumped to the floor, all the fight just gone. Daddy laughed. Daryl had never heard that sound come from him before.

Merle weren't the same after that.

Merle was addicted after that. From coke, to smack, to any pills he could get his hands on. Weed when he was just lookin' to keep the high goin' and booze to make it last even longer.

If he could get his hands on it, he even took a lick at that meth.

Daryl hated it when he was on ice. When he was iced, he was a fuckin' asshole. It was even worse when he was off it.

He sighed, runnin' a hand through his hair.

"Don't know what yur missin' brother," Merle sighed. Yeah, I sure as fuck do brother.

"Yeah," he moaned, sliding the needle out, the little pockets of red dotting his brothers arm, right at the crook of his elbow making Daryl wince. Merle leaned back, eyes sliding shut, riding a high that Daryl knew he never wanted to experience, never.

He may 'ave hated his scars, may a wanted to skin the ol' man alive for ever puttin' a damn hand on him, but to see Merle markin' hisself up like that, hurt Daryl even more.

Made him hate the ol' man more than he would ever admit.

"Awoof." He reached down, gave ol' Chief a rub behind the ears.

"I know boy." Most days, Chief never hung around to witness Merle when he got fucked up. Chief had a limp gait now, coz a Merle. Had a messed up lip coz a Merle. Even his tail was crooked coz a Merle.

Sometimes, he wondered if Merle didn't get him Chief just so he could fuck him up.

Just so it could fuck with him.

"Ya know brother," Merle said, so quiet Daryl had to lean forward to hear what he was sayin'. "I fuckin' wish I'da died."

He blanched. "The fuck?" Merle said a lot a fuckin' things when he was drunk, when he was fuckin' gone. But this? Daryl didn't know what the hell this was bout.

Merle glanced down at the patchwork of dots littering his inner arm, and Daryl coulda sworn to fuckin' god, if he didn't know any better, that Merle was cryin'.

But Dixons didn't cry.

And Merle didn't finish. He just let his arm drop back to his side.

"What? Whatchya mean by that Merle?" He got to his feet, Chief rising with him, sensing the tension. He grabbed Merle by the collar and pulled him forward.

"What the hell you mean Merle!" His head fell back, eyes glazed and his breath shallow. He didn't respond. Daryl glanced at the needle, saw the two little bags of shit on the couch next to him. Weren't just no fuckin' coke in that needle. Merle was speedballin'.

"Fuck Merle." He let him fall back against the couch.

He didn't even know if Merle would wake up in the morning. He'd have to wait and see.

That was the worst part. Waitin'. Not knowing whether or not he'd wake up to hear Merle callin' his ass awake in the morning. If he'd feel his brothers hand on his shoulder, shakin' him awake.

Even if he still drew his knife on him, Merle still never stopped wakin' him.

He wouldn't never tell Merle, but he'd fuckin' miss that.

He sank back into the chair, Chief settlin' at his side. He'd probably fall asleep there, and wake to Merle dry-heavin' in the morning.

He'd 'ave to believe that.

Merle's voice drifted across the silence between them, quiet, the admission not really meant to be said.

"Ol' man shoulda jacked me full a shit and killed me then."

Maybe Merle was tryin' to kill himself.

Reviews mean a lot.

A/N: So, I'm not sure of this chapter myself. But I went with it. May or may not be a good one. Ah well. Daryl spoke to me, and Merle was both high and suicidal. I always figured the drugs were never really a part of his thing. And that once he started, he'd never be able to quit, not unless it was by them. I sort of just depressed myself there.

Anyway, so if ya'll didn't know, I posted a prompt fic titled Promise, courtesy of letmefallasleep. It's a Maryl. Daryl/Carol/Merle. That's right; I gave them a ship name. Please go check it out. It's not completed, but I am almost finished with the last chapter. So far, it's been a hit.

As always, thanks for being here, with Daryl and I.