A/N: Okay, so wow, folks liked the last chapter, judging by the comments. I'm so pleased. :D

You never quite know when you send your little babies (chapters) out into the world as to what happens to them – if people enjoy them, are annoyed, unmoved, bored etc by them. That's why writers can never get enough of comments. Sure, it may come across as a bit needy (which we are, no questions asked LOL) but it also tells us what works and what doesn't... and that directly feeds back into the story for most writers. The more feedback we get, the more we can hone the original idea we have in our head to suit our audience. I don't mean change our ideas, just tweak them a bit to keep people as engaged as possible while we tell our stories.

I do try and reply to as many people as I possibly can, as often as I can. I'm so sad about not being able to reply to the guest reviewers like the wonderful GG who is always so generous and enthusiastic about this story. Just know I would if I could, all you guest reviewers. :D And to everyone else who favourites and follows, they're all the things which give writers a real shot in the arm. If you haven't attempted to write before, don't underestimate the power a simple click of the button can have on those insecure souls looking for validation that their stories aren't a big pile of steaming poo poo. LOL

Anyways, guess I just wanted to say I felt the love on the last chapter and it really helped me with trying to work out what are going to be very tricky, dramatic chapters.

BTW, on that note, I saw a lot of people had much Axel love to give and I'm toying with doing a (most likely) one shot prequel to this fic involving Daryl and Axel to explain why Daryl is just so hyper-protective when it comes to Axel when we open in the first chapter.

Anyone interested? Not? It'd be humorous, well, attempted humour anyways. ;)

So, on with this chapter, of which the theme is fear... I think I've hammered it home enough in the following chapter, but I thought I'd mention it anyway. LOL I know Rick is a fan fave too, so I gave him a nice big chunk of this chapter as well.

Hope you all enjoy as we draw ever closer to the dramatic conclusion of this story...

Chapter Thirty Six

"Bran thought about it. 'Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?'

'That is the only time a man can be brave,' his father told him."

George R.R. Martin

A Game of Thrones

Rick sat up on his bunk bed and swung his feet over the side. He rubbed his face, fighting against his tiredness despite the couple of hours of sleep he'd just gotten. Regular sleep seemed a thing of the past nowadays. You just grabbed what you could, when you could. Rick supposed he could have kept more regular hours, but he wasn't about to ask anyone to do what he wasn't prepared to do first. The prison afforded them protection, but Rick wasn't going to trust those fences surrounding them as their only line of defence. They had to continue with the twenty-four hour watch duties, it was just too important not to. He stood up and stretched his hands above his head, trying to work out a few kinks. Walking out of his cell, Rick went and leant over the railing, to look down on the floor below. His eyes scanned the area, doing a quick head count. Hershel was rocking Judith in her makeshift crib with one hand, while he stirred a pot of stew, which looked like it was going to be lunch, with the other. Beth flitted around, finishing up the food preparation. Rick glanced out at the window in front of him, realising he must have slept longer than he intended. He walked around to the stairs and was halfway down them when Glenn and Maggie walked into the room.

"The smell of my stew has got 'em comin' outta the woodwork," said Hershel with a little smile as he looked over at the three newcomers.

Maggie strolled over to her father and gave him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. "You do the best stews, Daddy, always have." She stopped to coo down at Judith. "Hey there little girl, you been behavin' yourself?"

"Not a peep outta her," said Hershel. "That's one happy baby."

Rick smiled and walked over to his daughter. He put out his hand to Judith and she grabbed hold of his finger with one plump, baby hand. Rick loved to feel the way his daughter gripped his finger so strongly. It meant she was healthy and that made him unbelievably thankful. He bent down and kissed her soft hand.

"Watch those fingernails of hers," Hershel cautioned him. "They're getting' real long and they scratch real easy."

"They need cuttin'," said Beth as she ladled some of her father's stew into a bowl. "Otherwise she'll end up scratchin' herself up."

Rick grimaced as he looked at the tiny fingernails on Judith's hand. "Lori always used to cut Carl's fingernails when he was a baby. I was too scared. He was so tiny, I was worried he was gonna move and I was gonna jab him with the scissors."

"You need those little baby scissors," replied Beth, "or even better, those little clippers you can get."

"I'll keep an eye out for them with the next run into town," volunteered Glenn as he picked up two bowls and headed towards the stew. "I can't see them being high on the list of things for people to loot. We might get lucky."

"Or a file," said Maggie thoughtfully, accepting the bowl of stew Glenn had just filled for her. "That'd work too."

Rick nodded. "That'd be good, thanks, Glenn."

"No problem," said Glenn around a mouthful of stew.

Rick looked around. "Where's Carl?" He frowned a little, trying to remember the roster. "Wasn't Carol meant to relieve him this morning?"

Axel had just walked into the room and overheard that last part. "She did," he informed Rick and made a bee line for the bubbling pot. "Alright, soups up."

Rick's frown deepened. "Then where is he?"

"Carl said he was goin' mushroom huntin' today," volunteered Beth as she walked by them with the bowl of steaming stew. "He might still be doin' that."

"Outside?" asked Rick, his tone harsher than he intended.

"No," said Beth, still walking and calling back over her shoulder now," by the kitchen block. He said he saw some there the other day."

"Oh, okay, thanks," said Rick, slightly mollified.

Beth stopped in the doorway and turned back around. "I'm just takin' some lunch out to Carol. I'll ask her if Carl said anythin' to her when I do."

Rick nodded. "Okay, yeah, thanks, Beth."

"The boy's probably just lost track of time," said Hershel calmly. "There's no reason to fret, Rick."

"I know." Rick hesitated. "I think I'll just go and remind him of the time though." He headed towards the door.

"Tell Carl he'd better high tail it back here," called out Hershel, "otherwise he's gonna miss out on my world famous stew."

Rick sent him a distracted wave of acknowledgement as he walked out the door but then he was picking up his pace as he hurried to check for Carl at the kitchen block. He didn't know why, but he had a bad feeling all of a sudden and he just needed to make sure Carl was okay. Rick knew he was probably overreacting, but he couldn't help himself. He made it to the kitchen block without letting himself break into a run, but when he got there, Rick couldn't see his son anywhere. "Carl!" he yelled and then listened intently for an answer. None came. Rick did a complete circle of the kitchen block and even checked inside but he didn't find him. "Carl!" he called out, this time unable to hide the anxiety in his voice. "CARL!" Rick shook his head in frustration as he tried to think where his son could be. Thinking that they might have crossed over somehow and Carl might already be back at their cellblock, Rick headed back there. This time he did run. He burst into the communal area, scanning the faces who looked over at him in surprise. "Did Carl come back?" he asked urgently.

Glenn frowned and shook his head. "No, not yet."

Rick ran his hand through his hair, damp from sweat from his exertions in this weather.

"I'm sure he isn't far away, Rick," offered up Maggie but Rick could hear the uncertainty in her voice even as she moved to reassure him.

Behind him, Beth ran into the room, looking stricken. "Guys, there is no one on the front gate. Carol isn't there."

Rick's stomach dropped as he turned around to look at Beth. "Are you sure? She wasn't off goin' to the bathroom or somethin'?"

Beth bit her bottom lip anxiously. "No, I called and called to her, but she didn't answer."

Rick's mind was racing. "Was the gate closed? Did you see any kind of signs of a scuffle?"

"The gate was closed," said Beth quickly. "And I didn't see any blood or nuthin'." She grimaced. "But I guess I wasn't lookin' neither."

Rick's lips pressed together in frustration, even as he knew it wasn't Beth's fault. The young girl wasn't trained to look for things like that. He brushed past her. "I'm gonna check. Come get me if Carl turns up." Rick didn't look back at the group as he hurried out of the room. He knew they were all just going to show varying degrees of concern and he couldn't see that right now. Rick could feel the way his heart was thumping painfully in his chest as his anxiety levels rose. The thought of Carl being in some kind of danger had Rick fighting against breaking down entirely. He couldn't take one more loss, he just couldn't. Already it felt as though his sanity and very soul was hanging by a thread after the loss of Lori. Rick had dug his fingernails in until they bled, just to hold himself together enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other. There were some days when he just wanted to scream from the pain and unfairness of it all, but he didn't.

There was no point.

Him howling at the moon wouldn't bring Lori back, wouldn't give his children back their mother. But his control was drawn out to the limit. Most days Rick felt like just skin stretched over raw nerve endings and even the lightest touch from another person would cause searing pain to shoot all through his body. Sometimes even a conversation, their breath on him, would make Rick almost shake with pain. He was hanging on by a thread and if anything was to happen to one of his children, Rick knew that thread would break entirely. Even as Rick ran down towards the front gates of the prison, a part of him wished he could just lie down on the ground and never have to get up again. He was exhausted from being in this kind of fear all the time, it was unrelenting. The thought of just letting go and allowing everything just to wash over him, to consume him utterly was a tantalising one. The idea of letting go of the shreds of his sanity and retreating into a world where these things didn't threaten to rip his still beating chest out of his heart, were calling to him relentlessly ever since Lori had died. To have no more pain, to dissolve inside madness and just let all the frailties of humanity and sanity be taken from you was something Rick had been trying to fend off for weeks now. It was the siren's call, whispering to him about a kind of peace that would stop his pain.

But not the pain of others.

It was that one truth that Rick couldn't escape. As always, it was the thought of his children which dragged Rick back from the abyss. Something bigger than himself and his own struggles, two people who deserved to be fought for. Carl and Judith were his reason to fight off the all perversive thought of relief through simply letting go and letting his fears overcome him utterly. It was that fear Rick was trying to push down now as he looked for his son. The fear that threatened to paralyse and overwhelm. Carl was going to be alright. Rick kept repeating the mantra in his head because to think of anything else would have broken him in two on the spot.

oooOOOOooo

Daryl burst through the line of trees which surrounded the prison, making a break for the front gates. Any last hope that he'd somehow managed to get ahead of Merle was lost when he saw no one was on duty at the front gate. That never happened. Daryl felt sick, his stomach threatening to throw up the last meagre remnants of his meal last night as fear gripped him. He swallowed it down, managing to outrun the Walkers wandering about, despite the burning in his legs and lungs. Daryl got to the gate and shoved his fingers through the wire links, shaking it violently. "Hey!" he yelled out, hoping to get someone's attention. "HEY! OVER HERE!" Daryl looked over and saw Rick halfway through the field, running towards him. The sound of Walkers coming up behind him had Daryl swinging around and putting an arrow deep into the woman's skull. She collapsed backwards as Daryl rushed over to her and retrieved his arrow, ramming it into the eye of other Walker who was intent on attacking him.

"Daryl, quick!"

Rick's urgent call had Daryl spinning back around and running towards the gate the other man was holding open for him. Daryl slipped inside the prison grounds as Rick quickly re-locked the gates. "Why wasn't there anyone on duty here?" he rasped, trying to catch his breath.

Rick turned around to face him, both men ignoring the Walkers on the other side of the fence who had been drawn by the commotion. "You tell me, Daryl," he bit out. "Where's Merle?"

Daryl's stomach turned over again, feeling the bile rise to the back of his throat. "He gave me the slip," said Daryl tightly, feeling the self-loathing well up in him even as he said the words aloud.

Rick's face darkened. "We can't find Carl and Carol."

Daryl felt the earth tilt a little under his feet as he struggled to show no emotion. "How long they been missin' for?"

"We don't know." Rick's tone bristled with frustration. "What's Merle doin', Daryl?"

Daryl looked away, lips showing his internal struggle without him knowing it as they tightened and loosened furiously. A muscle jerked in his cheek. "I'm gonna find 'em." Daryl turned around, intent on beginning the hunt straight away but Rick grabbed his arm.

"I'm comin' with you."

Daryl shook his hand off. "Then come," he snapped.

"I need to tell the others," ground out Rick. "Get my rifle and some water."

Daryl ground his teeth in irritation, but couldn't argue.

"Come with me," Rick instructed him. "I got more questions." He turned and headed back to the prison.

"Yeah, well, I ain't got no answers," muttered Daryl as he followed him.

They covered the distance in silence and then Rick was walking into the sleeping quarters ahead of him.

"Did you find them?

"Should we start looking around the prison?"

"Daryl!"

Beth's gasp of surprise was followed by the young blonde woman impulsively running up to him and hugging him tightly. Daryl stiffened at the familiarity but Beth was already stepping away before he could comment. "Are you alright?" she asked quickly. "What happened? Do you know where Carol and Carl are?"

"Merle's got 'em," said Rick tightly.

Glenn's reaction was immediate. "Son of a bitch!"

Rick was in cop mode. "Axel, when exactly did you see Carol leave to go and relieve Carl?"

Axel looked as worried as everyone else was now. "I'm not exactly sure, at least three hours ago, probably four."

"Okay," said Rick quickly, "worst case scenario, that gives them a four hour head start on us and Merle is gonna be forced to move slower with Carl and Carol to manage."

"We should be able to catch them up," said Glenn, already going to collect his gun and knife.

Rick held up a staying hand to him. "You don't need to come, Glenn. Daryl and I can handle this."

"I'm coming," said Glenn stubbornly. "There is no point arguing about it."

Daryl tried to hide his displeasure. These two were only going to slow him down. He needed to face his brother one on one. They didn't need no audience.

Maggie was looking at Daryl. "Do you know what your brother is plannin' on doin' to them?" she asked in distress. "What happened between you two?"

"That's a good question," said Rick sharply, turning his attention to Daryl. "What set Merle off this time?"

"I don't know," said Daryl truthfully, his own words making him want to hit something. He'd been wracking his brains trying to work out what he might have said last night to cause Merle to abandon him and come back to the prison but was coming up blank.

"Somethin' must have happened," argued Rick, not letting it go. "Otherwise why would Merle come back here?"

"I don't know, okay?" said Daryl, his voice starting to get louder with his own aggravation. "We were drinkin' last night and everything was fine and-"

"You got drunk?" repeated Rick in disbelief, starting to shout now too. "You were idiot enough to let yourself get drunk with Merle? Shit, Daryl, do you even remember what you coulda said to him?"

Daryl glared at him. He didn't need to be reminded that he'd made a mistake others folks were paying for. "I was tryin' to get his trust," he barked out.

"And that worked out just great, didn't it?" snapped Rick, face flushing in anger as he stepped up to face him. "You clearly let somethin' slip that set Merle off and now look what's happened! You were meant to be protectin' the group, not puttin' it in more danger!"

Daryl bristled, hand balling into a fist as Rick gave him a target for his own self-anger. Rick was right and Daryl hated them both in that instant.

"Now then," said Hershel as he stepped between the two of them before things could get any more heated, "ain't no point to all this fussin'. It's a waste of time and energy. For all we know, this was Merle's intent all along. Ain't no good speculatin' on things we don't have all the facts to."

Rick dropped his head, shoulders sagging as Hershel's calm reason seemed to take the fight out of him. "You're right." He looked away for a moment and then back to catch Daryl's gaze. "I'm sorry. There was no need for me to fly off the handle like that."

"You're worried 'bout your boy," said Daryl gruffly. "You got every right." He looked away, body still wound up tight because despite Hershel's reassurance, Daryl knew this was all down to him.

Hershel seemed to know what he was thinking as he laid a fatherly hand on Daryl's shoulder. "This ain't your fault, Daryl," he said firmly. "Merle made his own choices in all of this. You ain't your brother's keeper."

Daryl's lips thinned. "Yeah I am," he rasped, hand going to the crossbow sling over his shoulder as he headed towards the door. "Always have been." Daryl didn't wait to see who was following him, he just needed to get moving to fix this.

Before it was too late.

oooOOOOooo

Carol and Carl walked side by side ahead of Merle, their hands tied in front of them with phone cables with Merle holding onto the other ends. They'd been walking for at least a couple of hours now.

"So, Merle," said Carol calmly, "you actually got a plan or are you just making this up as you go along?"

"You tryin' to size old Merle up, sassy mouth?" he taunted her. "You tell me. Which do you think is worse? Me havin' a plan or me flyin' by the seat of my pants. "

"I'm confident you can make either scenario end badly," said Carol dryly.

Merle gave a snort of laughter. "You always been this funny or is this a recently developed skill, missy?"

"I guess you just bring out my lighter side, Merle," she deadpanned. Carol looked back over her shoulder at him. "You haven't answered my question."

And it was a good question at that. Truth was, Merle hadn't exactly settled on a plan until he ran up and saw Carol and Carl standing there at the gate. It was like God or whoever the fuck was in charge nowadays, had given him their little stamp of approval that what he was doing was meant to be. Carol and Carl, the two people that would be the best ones for Merle to make his point, it was like it was pre-ordained or something. "Let's just say that our destinies have collided like it was written in the stars," said Merle coolly, "and leave it at that."

"And that tells me exactly nothing," said Carol flatly.

"Except that he's crazy," sniped Carl as he trudged along.

Merle tugged on Carl's lead and made him stumble a little. "You watch your mouth, boy. I ain't 'bout to take any of your shit."

"Bite me," growled Carl, throwing a death look over his shoulder at Merle.

Merle couldn't help but laugh at how ferocious the kid's glare was. You could strip paint with it. "I ain't the one you need to worry 'bout when it comes to bitin', kid." He casually raised Carl's gun and pointed it above the teenager's head and blew the brain out of a Walker which had just appeared in front of them. The Walker dropped like a stone and the three of them didn't even break their stride. Merle nodded in approval at the silencer on the end of Carl's gun. "That's a handy gadget to be havin', that's for sure."

"Glad you like it," snarled Carl, "I'm gonna be killin' you with it later."

Merle's lips quirked. "Well, ain't you full of piss and vinegar, short stuff? I thought you and me were friends." He half-smiled. "Trust me, kid, a lotta bastards, bigger and meaner than you have tried to kill me and I'm still here. I lead a charmed life. So you best hold your tongue while you still got one to take hold of."

"Carl has nothing to do with all of this," said Carol sharply. "Let him go. I'm all you need."

"You're wrong, Carl has everythin' to do with this," returned Merle. "His old man owes me."

"What, a child for a hand?" The derision was obvious in Carol's voice. "It's not the same thing, trust me."

"The wronged party gets to decide what's fair and equal," shot back Merle bitterly.

Carol stopped walking and turned around to face him. Carl was forced to stop walking as well and he turned around as Carol faced off against Merle. "This isn't just about your hand, is it, Merle? Rick took something much more precious to you away from you on that roof, didn't he? Otherwise you woulda settled just for beating in his face."

"If you're talkin' 'bout Daryl-"

"No, not Daryl. I'm talkin' about Rick takin' away the illusion you built up around yourself that you were always the one in control of every situation."

Merle's jaw hardened. "Missy, you don't know shit."

Carol took a step closer to him, her blue gaze intent on his as she spoke with growing certainty. "I know what you grew up with, Merle, Daryl has told me the stories. The only way you could protect yourself was to build a world around you where you always called the shots. Then Rick comes in and takes that away from you and suddenly you're the same scared kid you used to be, at the mercy of someone else and you hated him for that."

Merle's grip tightened on the gun in his hand. He hadn't expected this. How dare this woman take one look at him and think she knew him? Merle Dixon wasn't about to be read like some book. "Nice attempt at Dr Philin' me, sugar tits," he drawled, "but you don't know jack 'bout jack."

"Prove me wrong." Carol's chin came up, eyes flaring. "Let Carl go. Prove to me you didn't feel like Rick cut off your dick rather than your hand, up there on that roof."

Merle lost control as her words cut him to the bone. His hand snapped back and he hit Carol in the face with the gun he was holding. She gasped in pain and almost fell to her knees, but managed to catch herself and stay upright.

"Carol!" cried out Carl in distress. He lunged at Merle. "You son of a bitch!"

Merle quickly took a step back and levelled the gun at Carl's head. "Stay where you are," he ground out, angry at himself for losing control like that. The boy shot daggers at him, but stayed where he was. Merle looked over at Carol who was shaking her head and looking a little dazed. A trickle of blood escaped the side of her mouth and made Merle feel bad but he had to get this situation back under control. "No more talkin'," he ordered them harshly. "You walk when I tell you to walk and stop when I tell you to stop. I'm in control here!"

Carol's expression as she looked at him was one of silent vindication as the words slipped out of Merle's mouth before he could censure them. He put his face in hers, noses almost touching. "You don't know me," said Merle, voice low and full of warning."

Carol didn't flinch. "Do you?" With that little jab delivered, Carol turned around and started walking, Carl falling in step with her.

Merle followed them, still holding onto the leads which held them prisoner and suddenly had to wonder who was feeling more trapped in that moment...