Hi everyone! Thank you so very much to those who've stuck around this far...I appreciate your support more than you'll ever know : )

This chapter has no warnings, other than a very brief reference to Merle's "incident" with the dog.

I'm really looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one...enjoy! oxox

Daryl had been asleep when the phone rang at the house. They had arrived home from the hospital the evening before, with just enough medication to last him a day or two. He'd been in bed basically since they'd returned, sleeping off the pain thanks to the drugs they had prescribed for him.

Carol picked up the receiver the very instant she heard the chime of the second ring, not wanting to interrupt Daryl's rest.

"Hello?" she rasped lowly.

"Mouse," came the voice, and she could swear that she felt every inch of her body turn to ice. It wasn't his usual barking timbre – just a simple word, spoken like any other – but it chilled her to her very depths.

She didn't say anything in return, equal parts speechless at the sound of his voice and entirely unwilling to ever say a word to him ever again.

Neither she nor Daryl had spoken to him since that day, and she had been starting to believe that they were both okay with that.

Merle broke the silence first, asking her to stop in for a visit. He needed to talk to her, he said. Please.

"Daryl just fell asleep. Maybe when he wakes up, if there's still time," she tried dismissing him as quickly as she could, her tone suggesting that most certainly, neither of them would not be making any kind of effort to go see him.

"Mouse," he growled, and she heard his sharp intake of breath before his next words came out much calmer. "Carol. I need to talk to you."

"So, talk. I'm listening." She made no attempt to keep the annoyance from her voice.

She heard his rumble of frustration, and she didn't care.

"Ain't a conversation I can have over the phone, Carol. Only got a couple minutes left. Come on. Leave Daryl home. Let him rest. It's you I wanna see. Please."

She hadn't a clue what possessed her, or why on earth Merle had a way of pulling her in. But there was something about him that she pitied so badly, and another something that had her terrified. And so she agreed, if for no other reason than to tell him to stay away.

She wrote Daryl a note and left it next to him on the bed.

Gone to pick up your medicine. Be back soon. I love you.

More lies. Though she'd promised herself that she would pick up his prescriptions on the way back, so that it was more of a half-truth than an outright lie. She hated Merle so entirely, and she seethed the entire way to the prison.

Rick had told them that Merle was looking at a minimum of four years. Assaulting an officer and three civilians, vandalism, and drug possession. He'd pled guilty to every charge, and had already enrolled in a rehab program so that he could use his time in prison to get clean.

With that news, Carol and Daryl had locked eyes so intently, hope and doubt and compassion and anger all swirling together in a cyclone of heaviness between them.

Too little, too late.

The guilt of what Merle had done to Daryl had gotten to him. Rick had told them it was evident in every word he said, every move he made. But neither Daryl nor Carol were sure they believed him. Daryl had never known Merle to feel guilty a day in his life.

And all the concern for him – every urge that Carol ever had to help this man – had dripped steadily out of her as she drove mile after mile to the jail, until she pulled into the parking lot and there was nothing left of her to give.

"You tell Daryl you was comin'?"

She mutely shook her head no, her eyes like steel as they bore into his. He nodded back at her, unable to voice his thanks. Whether it be because of pride or because he simply wasn't thankful, she really couldn't care less.

They sat together in a small room, each sitting on a chair with a steel table between them, and a guard watching them through a window.

Carol glared at him as she realized that he clearly didn't remember all the different ways he'd terrorized them. He didn't remember the way he touched her that night by the coffee table. He didn't remember slamming her head into the wall. He didn't realize the tension and hurt and pain that he had caused for his brother every single day.

"He would have killed you, you know. If he'd have come here with me." And she meant that literally. She hoped he understood.

"Woulda loved to see him try," Merle chuckled in a poor attempt at lightening the moment.

Merle watched as her jaw tensed, the steel in her eyes not faltering for a moment, not appreciating his humor in the least.

"I was on your side," she repeated the words she'd said to him before. That day.

He was speechless. For the first time since she'd known him, Merle Dixon was speechless. His eyes flitted down to the surface in front of him to his shackled hands as he breathed a little heavier through his nose, but he looked right back up at her when she spoke again.

"I'm giving up on you."

"Don't," he pressed, his voice raising slightly. "I turned myself in. I'm getting fuckin' help. What more do you fuckin' want from me?"

"You felt guilty because you stabbed your brother and put him in the hospital. Congratulations, you have a conscience." Her tone was completely void of pleasantry. Void of caring. Void of feeling. She didn't blink, she didn't flinch. She just sat there with her arms crossed against her chest and told him what was.

For once, he couldn't argue with her.

He swallowed hard and then sucked his teeth as his gaze drifted once again away from hers, though she glared unwaveringly at him.

"Daryl's all I got," he muttered, remorse lacing his words.

"You had me, too."

"'Had'?"

She paused as she glared his way, unable to say any of the words that were screaming inside her head.

You hurt him. You hurt us. You're a predator, and you're a horrible human being who ruined a young girl's life with your irresponsibility. You're useless. You're selfish.

I hate you.

She forced out the only word that would make it through the barrier.

"Daryl," she began by way of explanation, her voice catching slightly and her eyes betraying her. She couldn't be impassive anymore, not when this was about Daryl. Not when he almost died at the hands of the man who claimed he was the only human being on earth who truly loved him.

But she didn't need to say any more than that. He knew what she meant, and he looked away with shame clouding his eyes. She was happy for it – more than she should have been – to see that look on his face.

"I need you," he muttered tightly, his eyes cast away from hers. Cowering.

Her mind flitted instantly to that poor dog.

Retribution.

She shook her head against his words even though he wasn't looking at her, rolling her tear-filled eyes as though she thought he was truly full of shit. She fought against how desperately the words came out. How defeated and afraid he sounded.

His eyes cut back to her when he found his resolve. "I need him. Alright? Is that what you want to hear?"

"No, Merle, that's not what I want to hear. It's not what either of us wants. All we ever wanted was for you to be okay."

He paused at that, deflating slightly. Because he knew in every part of him that she was telling the truth. He didn't deserve a single soul giving him what the two of them had, and he knew it. But they had given it anyway, and he had trampled all over it. Turned it into something that didn't matter.

"I will be. But I still need you," he muttered.

"You had us, Merle. But you ruined it. I can't do this anymore. I tried…I tried to help you. We tried to help you. And I'm-" she paused and took a deep breath, willing her cries to keep out of this, just for the moment. "I'm sorry that I couldn't…we couldn't help you. But we tried. We really tried."

The silence between them was deafening, the tension so thick that it was suffocating her. Neither of them could bear to look at the other, though neither of them made any kind of move to leave.

"I wanted you to come here so I could talk to you," he said quietly.

"So, say something," she shrugged, her tone exhausted.

"Amy's pregnant."

"I know."

He looked at her suddenly, the shock written plainly across his face in bright red block letters, and she felt like she was finally getting her breakthrough.

He paused as he waited for her to continue – to explain – but she didn't. She didn't owe him anything.

"Well?" he pressed.

"Well, what?"

Their voices were rising again, and Carol became increasingly more aggravated at how incapable he was of having a civilized conversation.

"Ain't you got anything to say about it?"

"What's there to say? She's giving up the baby. She's smart enough to know you're useless, and she's not ready to be a mother all by herself."

Merle watched her as she spoke and scrutinized her when she finished as though he was calculating his next words.

"That's just the thing, Mouse," he drawled ruefully as his voice trailed off.

"What?"

"That's my fuckin' kid."

Her eyes grew wide then, and she uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, glaring menacingly at him as her hands clutched tightly to the edge of the table. "What are you saying? You want to be a father, Merle? You're in prison. You're a criminal."

"I know that," he appeased. "I know, alright? Didn't say I wanted the kid, I just…I don't not want the kid."

Her eyes watered, and she shook her head incredulously as she tried to take in his words. She was so angry with him, for already playing with this child's emotions. For not treating it like a human being. For not thinking of its best interests.

For being given the gift – the privilege – of becoming a parent when he was the last person in the world who deserved this. When she couldn't herself be a mother; her own baby ripped right from her body, and her whole life's ambition stolen away from her with the blink of an eye.

So ignorant.

"What are you saying?" she whispered slowly, her patience stretched to its absolute limit.

"You were gonna be a mother," he said simply. Her furrowed eyebrows and tear-filled eyes didn't budge as she waited for him to continue. "I ain't fit to be no one's daddy. I don't wanna be. But you-"

"Merle," she cut him off, her tone warning.

"You were gonna be a mother," he repeated once more, but again she intercepted.

"Stop," she begged, as though his words were physically hurting her.

"Listen to me," he fought back firmly. "You want that kid to be sent away to live with some strangers? That's my baby," he argued. "That's our baby."

"So, what the hell do you want?" she hissed, desperate for him to just come out with it. To say the actual words so that her mind wouldn't have to spin so violently with possibilities, though she was utterly terrified all at the same time.

"You raise this baby. You be his mama. With Daryl. You do it together. Keep him in the family, Carol. That's our kin. That's our kid."

And now it was her turn for the shock to bleed out of her right onto the table between them.

"Merle-"

"Two minutes," the guard interjected.

She heard the warning but couldn't make herself look towards the man who interrupted them. Couldn't make herself look away from Merle at all as she leaned forward, still grasping at the table, tears brimming thickly in her eyes.

"Merle, you don't know what you're talking about. Think about it," she whispered hotly.

"You think I ain't been thinking about this since the goddamn minute she fuckin' told me? I thought about it."

"Merle," she tried again stiffly.

"Talk to Daryl. Just…fuckin' talk to him. Please. You two are the best goddamn shot this kid has at a decent fuckin' life."

They both stood abruptly as the guard approached, wanting to be cooperative but not willing for this visit to end, not yet.

Merle rounded the table to face her now with nothing between them – his wrists cuffed and hanging in front of him – looking for all the world like he wanted to move towards her. Looking her up and down with hopeful eyes as she stood rigidly in her spot. He took a step towards her slowly, his gaze intent on her face, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

This was a desperate man. Stripped of every ounce of his pride and security blanket. He was begging her.

"Talk to him. Please."

She hadn't noticed she'd been leaning into him until he had backed away, and she faltered slightly as she regained her balance.

He spared her one more passing glance over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

Carol arrived home with the paper bag of medication, stoic as she moved through the house and into the bedroom. She paused in the doorway when she noticed Daryl wasn't in bed, and turned swiftly with panic in her chest before she heard the flush of the toilet.

Daryl opened the bathroom door slowly, having to take it easy because of the ongoing pain. She rushed to his side before he'd even noticed she was there, and he smirked down at her as she fussed over him, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling his over her shoulder for support.

"Hey. You're back," he murmured.

"Yeah," she attempted to huff out a laugh, dutifully avoiding his gaze. "Couch or bed?"

"Couch," he told her, and they made their way over slowly before she helped him get as comfortable as possible.

Carol had already flitted back to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and fixing him his next dosage, without realizing he'd been watching her the whole time.

"What's the matter?" he asked finally.

"Hm?" she responded distractedly, finally glancing his way.

"Somethin's up. What is it?"

Her motions were steady and smooth as she closed the pill bottles and picked up the cup, bringing everything over to him and setting them down on the crate that was temporarily serving as their coffee table.

She positioned herself squarely facing him before she spoke.

"I went to see Merle today. That's where I was."

Every ounce of ease that he had felt in her warming presence drained from his face in record timing.

"The fuck did you do that for?" he muttered.

"I don't know. He asked me to, but I don't know why I went," she told him honestly, shaking her head at herself and squeezing her eyes shut as she rubbed roughly at her temple. "He told me about Amy," she added, looking back to him once more.

He had been glaring her way with a hurt expression on his beautiful features, and it crushed her.

She proceeded to tell him everything about their visit, almost word for word if she could remember it that well. And then she got to the hard part, taking his hand tenderly in hers, and focussing on the way his strong one looked amidst the smallness of hers.

"Daryl," she began, steadying herself with a breath. "He wants us to raise the baby. You and I. He…he asked if we would raise the baby."

Daryl was silent for a long time as his eyes raked over her face. Like he didn't believe her.

"What'd you tell him?" he asked finally, his voice rasping.

"I told him he didn't know what he was saying."

And then the silence took over once more, but for so long that Carol had become aware of just how much her hands were shaking around his.

Finally, Daryl made a move. Shook his head incredulously before he spoke.

"So, what? I'm supposed to just clean up his mess? Again? He knocks up some girl, and I'm supposed to step up and be its daddy?"

Carol nodded in understanding at his words, at the hurt that laced his voice. That Daryl was interpreting it this way was of no surprise to her. It had crossed her own mind on the drive back from the prison as she ran through every facet of this mess in her head.

"He wants me to raise his fuckin' kid so that he gets to have his cake and eat it too? Fuck him," he shouted.

And all Carol could do was nod once again, because she understood every feeling that was coursing through Daryl's body and mind. But still she held his hand, fidgeting with it slightly in her anxious state.

"He said he doesn't want the baby to be sent away to strangers, because it's his kin," she said softly, barely louder than a whisper. "He said we're the best shot this kid has."

She looked up at him then, at the storm brewing in his eyes, and he breathed heavily as he glared back at her, his attempt at being objective so very clear to her, even though his anger was winning out.

A few more minutes of tension-filled silence passed before Daryl picked up the remote, effectively ending their conversation.

For three whole days, Daryl didn't talk about it. Except for the evening of day two, when he barked out a question at the dinner table.

"What about Amy?"

Carol blinked in surprise, not having a clue how to answer that. "I suppose she'd have the final say. I'd have to talk to her, if we…decided…"

She let her words trail off unfinished as she picked at the rest of her supper.

On the morning of day four, they were in the shower when Daryl had brought it up once more. Carol had been kneeling on the floor of the tub in front of him as she scrubbed away at his calves, helping him wash just as she had been since they'd been home.

"What do you want?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that the streaming water had afforded them.

Her movements faltered only just, as she considered his question. She finished washing his lower legs, and moved on to his ankles and feet methodically before making any kind of attempt to answer him. He grasped her elbow and helped her to stand when she was ready, and he moved back half a step so that the water flowed down over them both as the steam swirled around them.

"I want you to be happy," she said confidently. "I want us to be happy. That's what I want."

He didn't respond but his eyes softened so dramatically that she almost wanted to cry at his compassionate spirit.

"Carol," he urged softly, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathed her name.

"I don't know," she acquiesced. "A part of me thinks he's being a selfish asshole, but another part of me wonders how much he means it."

He nodded softly in agreement, his brow furrowed in concern for her. She was in this too.

"Only thing Merle ever cared about was blood. Family," he told her. "Got a fucked up way of showing it. But he means it."

She nodded her understanding, her eyes wide on his but still unable to vocalize her complete confusion over the situation.

He swallowed hard, looking down at their toes almost touching as the water swirled at their feet before looking back up at her.

"You wanna have a baby with me?" he grunted out. And with that very question, she could hear every bit of the turmoil that he'd endured over the last few days.

"I do."

He placed a hand on her hip then, and let his thumb circle softly on the skin there. Flexed his fingers just a little so that she felt the slight squeeze on her skin. She took a step closer, her body only a hair's width away from his. Her hand reached up to rest on the soft skin of his neck, and her thumb moved smoothly over his jaw.

"I ain't doin' this for Merle," he said. "It's all for that baby. All of it."

Carol had approached Amy at the coffee shop she worked at – her only way of getting in contact with her, and the two took a chilly walk around the neighborhood together, bundled up in their coats and scarves. The girl had nothing short of an emotional breakdown as she listened to Carol's proposal.

Carol had pled their case hard, knowing the impression the girl had of the Dixon name – of the type of man Merle had shown her he was. She told her that they both had clean records, and that she could ask everyone around town what kind of people they were. Told her she could talk to Sheriff Grimes and the principal at the school Carol worked at.

With a shaky voice and glassy eyes, she told Amy that she'd almost had a baby herself once upon a time.

She left Amy with her number. Told her to think about it. Told her she'd understand completely if she decided this wasn't right for her child.

But please think about it.

Six days after Carol had approached Amy, she'd called Carol back. She told her that her older sister was a lawyer and had run background checks on them both.

They'd all have to meet together, but she was open to it.

And so Carol and Daryl set up a meeting with Amy and her lawyer-sister, Andrea. They'd talked about rights and signed papers, and made further appointments to sign more papers. Carol had promised Amy that she'd happily be with her at every single doctor's appointment.

She told the girl that she was always welcome in their home, and that the baby would always be hers if she wanted. But Amy had refused, wanting to sever any connection she had to this – to Merle.

"I only want my baby to be loved. That's all I want," she said simply. "Take care of my baby, Carol."

Two weeks after her initial visit to the prison, Carol and Daryl made their way back there together.

Merle had been surprised to see his brother walk into the little room with Carol, and his eyes lit up just enough that Carol's lip twitched in the faintest of smiles.

Merle's gaze travelled over Daryl – assessing – and Carol didn't miss the quiet sigh of relief when his appraisal had turned up satisfactory.

He'd been healing.

"We doin' this? We got rules, Merle," Daryl said by way of introduction, as soon as he sat down in his chair. "An' we got a lawyer so you better listen up real good."

Merle's eyes cut towards Carol and she smiled, confirming the question in his eyes.

Yes. We're doing this.

And her smile wasn't for Merle, because he was getting what he asked for. Her smile was for Daryl and herself, because they were getting what they had asked for.

"I'm listenin'," was all he said in response to his little brother.

"You ain't never gonna be alone with this kid. Ever. You wanna visit, you'll have babysitters, because I don't trust you. On paper, this kid's ours. Ours. You ain't makin' the rules, you ain't tellin' us what to do."

Merle sat stoically and clenched his jaw as he listened to the list grow.

"We'll bring your child here to see you. Every weekend if we can." Carol could hear the softening of Daryl's voice as he spoke this part, and saw the way Merle's chin quirked up the tiniest bit. Alright, this ain't so bad.

Carol knew it would be inappropriate to snicker at the aggressive finger Daryl was pointing his brother's way, so she bit her tongue and sat still.

"But when you get outta here, you ain't livin' with us. You need to get a job and a fuckin' place to live. And you can be around your kid as much or as little as you want. But me and Carol make the rules, and the rules say we get to kick you out if you're bein' an asshole."

Merle nodded with the smallest jerk of his head.

"The rules say," Daryl continued, "that you can't make any rules."

Merle looked up at Carol with a hint of surprise in his eyes and sat up a little straighter, not having expected this news at all. Not having expected Daryl to be so rigid, or perhaps for them to be taking this on at all. But he nodded as he took it all in, scanning the empty table in front of him as he took a moment to process it all.

"We're not looking to take your child away from you, Merle," Carol interjected softly. "But if you want us to do this, we're doing it properly. We won't confuse him or her. We won't tolerate instability. If we do this," she paused with a glance towards Daryl. "We're putting the baby first. Always."

Merle only nodded, his eyes flitting between Carol and the table top, his tongue visibly running along his top teeth as he processed it all.

"What's he gon' call you?" he asked finally.

"He can call me Aunt Carol, if he wants," she shrugged, as though it was that simple. But Daryl and Carol had clearly talked about this already, because she hadn't skipped a beat or had a shadow of a doubt in her voice. He could see clearly that they had decided already what kind of arrangement they wanted. "And Uncle Daryl," she finished, motioning to the man at her side.

Merle swallowed hard and his mouth went dry as he worked up the courage to ask his next question.

"What's he gon' call me?" And he asked so quietly that Carol had almost missed it.

"Daddy," she answered simply. "He'll call you daddy."