A/N: Long, emotionally complicated chapter with this one, guys. Brace yourselves accordingly. LOL

I started this story with Carol facing the echoes of her past. Now we're at the stage of Daryl having to face his. There is no more running from the truth of who Merle is anymore and Daryl is facing that. I'm not sure what you'll make of this chapter, whether you'll find it boring or not, but I felt it necessary to fill in more of Daryl and Merle's history to make sense of where they are now.

It's all coming to a head now and it's going to get messy, no two ways about that.

See what you make of this chapter and I'll get started on the next one, okay? :D I really hope I can manage to convey all that I want with this one – fingers crossed, I guess.

Chapter Thirty Seven

"You can have peace. Or you can have freedom.

Don't ever count on having both at once."
Robert A. Heinlein

Rick's eyes were on Daryl's back as the other man deftly followed Merle, Carol and Carl's tracks through the woods. They made for distinctive tracks to follow and Rick hoped they were making good time. He glanced up at the sky just as a fat water droplet hit his cheek. The storm which had been threatening for days was almost on them. Rick's expression tightened as he knew once the rain came, it was going to be harder to track Merle's path. I fresh wave of frustration came over Rick as he tried to come to terms with the fact he'd been unable to keep the group safe. He spoke to Daryl's back. "Did Merle tell you anythin' 'bout another group?"

Daryl didn't turn around, just kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, gaze sweeping back and forth as he tracked. "There's a place called Woodbury, run by some guy called the Governor. Merle's been holed up there for most of the time."

Rick's heart sank at that news even as Glenn piped up with questions of his own. "A town?" he said in disbelief. "A whole town?"

"Merle said there were 'bout seventy or so folk there, mix of men, women and children."

"How far away?" asked Rick intently.

Daryl rolled his shoulders. "Dunno, probably 'bout three hours on foot from the prison, I'm guessin', give or take. Merle didn't give me no map."

"That's not far," said Glenn, sounding nervous. "I'm surprised we haven't run in to any of them yet."

"Guess we just got lucky," said Daryl flatly.

Rick's jaw hardened. "And maybe we can stay that way if we get to Merle first."

Daryl jumped over a log, still not turning around to talk to them. "Merle ain't takin' them to Woodbury."

Glenn and Rick followed Daryl over the log. "What makes you so sure?" asked Rick curiously. "Do you think this Governor would try and stop Merle?"

"The guy made Merle his second in charge," said Daryl coolly. "I don't reckon he's stricken with too big of a moral compass somehow."

That wasn't good news for Rick. Anyone who had no hesitation of putting Merle in charge of others had to know what they were unleashing. Merle never pretended to be anything other than what he was. For this Governor to do such a thing, it meant he had need of a blunt object to hammer his point home and Merle was that blunt instrument. "Then what makes you so sure Merle's not headin' to Woodbury?"

"I know my brother," said Daryl simply, coming to a stop. "Merle's makin' a point and he don't want a whole mess of other people gettin' in the way of that." He walked over to where a Walker lay stretched out on the ground by a row of trees, the back of his head blown out.

Rick joined him, looking down at the defunct creature. "This was done by a handgun." He immediately thought of Carl. Rick glanced over at Daryl, who'd turned around and back tracked a little, eyes on the ground.

Glenn came to stand by Rick. "At least we know we're going the right way."

Rick looked the Walker over. "This guy hasn't been dead more than a couple of hours or so. The ants haven't even made a start on him." He saw Daryl was now crouched over on the ground, examining it closely. Rick walked up to him. "What is it?"

"They stopped here," said Daryl, reading the scuffed imprints in the dirt. "They musta been talkin'." His eyes ran back and forth over the ground and Rick saw Daryl suddenly tense.

"What is it?"

Daryl reached out and picked up a leaf from the ground. Rick frowned, not knowing what he was looking at.

Daryl's face was unreadable. "Blood." He held up the leaf for the others to see. "There's blood on this leaf."

Both Glenn and Rick stepped closer. It was only a single drop of bright red blood on the brown leaf, but it was enough to have Rick clenching his fists.

"It's only a tiny bit, no one can be hurt that bad," said Glenn, his words not managing to belay the worry behind them, "right?"

Rick didn't want to think about an answer to that. Daryl stood up abruptly and threw away the leaf.

When Rick spoke, his voice was hard and brooked no argument. "When we find Merle-"

"What's gotta be done, gotta be done," Daryl interrupted him sharply and then he was stalking off, leading them on the hunt again.

Rick followed, with Glenn bringing up the rear. He knew how hard this was for Daryl, but the man had to understand that Merle had forced all of their hands. The older Dixon brother had set something in motion that meant no more second chances or benefits of the doubt. Daryl was going to have to have to face the fact Merle was what he was and deal with it, once and for all.

And if he couldn't, then Rick was going to do it for him.

oooOOOOooo

Daryl flicked his lighter but no flame popped up. He shook it and tried again, still nothing. Suddenly a hand was putting a lighter with a dancing flame in front of his face. Daryl glanced at the man who was offering him a light and then moved the cigarette dangling from his lips up into the glow of the flame. He sucked in that first puff of smoke. "Thanks," he told the man, the single word accompanied by a whoosh of smoke from his mouth.

"No problem," rumbled the good Samaritan, deep voice suiting the way the black man with broad shoulders and shaved head looked.

Daryl's eyes flicked around the noisy bar which was mainly filled with men as he took a deep drag of his cigarette and leaned back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. Rednecks and bikers as far as the eye could see. Merle was in his element. Daryl's brother was at the bar, being loud and obnoxious which was why Daryl had taken himself off to stand by one of the windows, on the outside looking in. Just how he liked it. Merle had taken a hit of some shit before he'd even walked into the bar and was already all twitchy before he ordered his first shot of whisky. Daryl knew how this night was going to turn out. His only hope for a quiet night was that Merle was going to pass out at some point. Unfortunately, his brother rarely passed out. Daryl picked up his half-drunk bottle of beer and tried to hide his displeasure at the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Ain't seen you 'round these parts before," commented the black man, who was leaning on the wall next to Daryl, having a quiet smoke of his own.

"Just passin' through," said Daryl vaguely. They were always passing through. He and Merle could never stay anywhere long. The elder Dixon brother made sure of that.

"Saw you and that other guy roll up on those Triumphs."

"Yeah."

"I restored a Triumph once, shit, those engines."

Daryl inclined his head. "Yeah, Merle worked on his for nearly a year until he got it right."

"Satisfyin' though, workin' out the kinks."

Daryl's gaze drifted over to Merle who seemed to be in some kind of drinking competition at the bar now. "Merle ain't never satisfied."

"Some folks never are," agreed the man sagely. He glanced over at Daryl. "Lamont," offered up the man, by way of introduction.

"Daryl."

They inclined heads, acknowledging each other in that unspoken way that didn't need a lot of fancy words.

"Where you two headin' after this?"

Daryl shrugged. "Dunno, that's up to Merle, I guess."

Lamont arched an eyebrow. "You don't get an opinion?"

"I don't got one," said Daryl coolly. "Ain't the same thing."

"No," agreed Lamont, side eyeing him, "I suppose it ain't."

There was a loud cheer from the bar which caught both of their attention. Merle was triumphantly upending an empty shot glass, a huge grin plastered on his face. "How you like that, boy?" he crowed.

The heavy set black man standing at the bar beside him just gave him a disdainful look and downed his own shot glass of whiskey and slammed it down on the bar to an even louder cheer. "You want to keep on tryin' to keep up, old man?" he smirked. "Or do you just want someone to tuck you into bed all safe and sound?"

"Your momma still doin' that?" threw back Merle sweetly and there was raucous laughter, even though Merle's competition didn't look impressed.

Daryl grimaced and looked away. This was going to end badly. There always came a point in the night where a line was drawn and Merle didn't just cross that line, he took great delight on having an entire hoedown on it. Daryl's eyes slid around the room, checking for exits.

"That brother of yours seems to like to live dangerously," commented Lamont dryly. "Elwood ain't known for his sense of humour."

"Yeah," Daryl muttered. "Merle's got real talent like that." He could feel Lamont's curious gaze on him.

"You sure you two are brothers?"

Daryl gave a humourless smile. "That's what our old lady tells us."

Lamont nodded his head slowly. "So, you know anythin' 'bout engines, or is just your brother?"

"I know my way round a motor."

"I own a garage in town, nuthin' fancy, been lookin' for a mechanic who doesn't have his head up his ass." Lamont pulled a wry face. "They're harder to come by than you'd think round here."

Daryl frowned. "You offerin' me a job?"

Lamont inclined his head. "If you're lookin'."

"You don't know me from shit," pointed out Daryl, trying to hide his surprise. "How do you know I ain't got my head up my ass?"

Lamont looked over to where Merle was jeering at some of the spectators. "Recto-cranial inversion only tends to occur in one sibling, not both," he said with wry amusement. "Nature's got a way of balancin' these things out."

Daryl tried not to smile at the other man's dig at Merle.

"Besides, I used to be a sniper in the Marines," continued on Lamont affably. "I'm good at sizin' people up quick like."

"You were in the Marines?" Daryl looked at the still physically fit man over and could see that.

"Yeah, pensioned out when I took a piss in what turned out to be a minefield one night." Lamont bent down and rapped his knuckles on his left leg and there was a hollow sound. He lifted up his pants legs to reveal a prosthetic leg.

Daryl took in the old fashioned wooden leg. "That's old school, man."

"Yeah, I couldn't get that titanium shit to sit right on me, so I just ended up going back to the old kind of fake legs."

"That's a real bitch," commented Daryl.

Lamont rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Yeah, I know, but on the up side, I've always got wood."

The two men caught each other's eyes and they both grinned before laughing out loud. Daryl couldn't help but relax a little in the other man's genial company.

"So, you interested?"

Daryl cast an uncertain look over at Merle. "I dunno, maybe."

"Yeah, well, I reckon you two ain't goin' anywhere tonight by the way your brother is knockin' back those shots."

Daryl grimaced as he looked back over to Merle where the drinking competition was getting rowdier by the minute.

"You fixed for a place to stay tonight?" Lamont quizzed him. "Your brother is gonna need some place to sleep that all off."

"We're bunkin' at that hotel just off the highway. The one with the spinning dice on the sign."

Lamont gave a short nod. "The Lucky Dice. It's a shit hole. They should pay you for sleepin' there."

"I've slept worse places," said Daryl philosophically.

"Just don't eat the complimentary breakfast. Go out and slam your nuts in a door, it'll be more enjoyable and less likely to leave you with permanent physical damage."

Daryl's lips quirked. "How can you fuck up scrambled eggs?"

"Raw talent and generalised hatred of people and any form of sanitation," said Lamont sardonically.

Suddenly there was the sound of smashing glass coming from the bar and Daryl's head snapped up, body tensing.

Merle was one his feet, facing off against the looming Elwood, not fazed in the least by the larger man. "Guess you don't know how to lose graceful like," he taunted the other man. "Suppose I shouldna expected much more from no nigger."

Daryl's face flushed red as Merle's innate racism raised its ugly head. He couldn't look at Lamont, too embarrassed on his brother's behalf and wishing he could crawl away from all of Merle's ignorance. He hated it when Merle did this shit. Lamont had straightened up too and Daryl could feel the other man stiffening beside him.

"What did you just call me?" asked an outraged Elwood. His crew were lining up behind him, angry looking black men, glaring death at Merle. Meanwhile, Merle had his own supporters, mostly bikers forgetting about their drinking and amassing behind Daryl's brother.

The bartended had a right to be looking as worried as he did. The hapless man held up a hand. "Now then, boys, why don't we all just take a breath and be smart 'bout this?" He may as well have said nothing for all the attention they gave him.

Merle had to keep poking the bear, holding Elwood's gaze unflinchingly. "You inbred too, boy? Your parents brother and sister so your hearin' didn't come out right? I heard you sambos like to keep it in the family. Guess I know for sure now-" Merle didn't get to finish his sentence as Elwood launched himself at him, tackling Merle to the ground. It was all the bar needed to erupt into all out war.

"Fuck," ground out Daryl as the inevitable happened. He did what he had to do and ran into the sea of writhing bodies to help his brother.

Merle was on his feet, trading blows with Elwood, the two men quickly bloodying each other up while both sides tried to tear each other apart. Fists, bottles and furniture were flying all over the place as Daryl fought his way through the throng of warring men to get to his brother. He didn't know where Lamont was now, probably wanting to put as much distance between himself and the ignorant rednecks and Daryl couldn't blame him. Merle was more than holding his own against Elwood and all other comers as he watched Merle crack a pool cue over some kid's head and dropped him like a stone. Both Merle and Elwood were bloodied and beaten but refusing to give up as they made a beeline for each other again. Daryl put himself between Merle and his opponent. "We're leavin'!" he yelled over the din of the bar brawl.

"But the party's just gettin' started, bro," slurred Merle, drunken grin plastered all over his bruised and bleeding face.

Elwood made a grab for Merle but Daryl jerked his elbow back, catching the other man up under his chin and causing him to crash to the ground. This didn't go down well with his crew, who now had two targets in sight. With a lot of effort and even more throwing of punches, Daryl somehow managed to drag Merle out of the bar which had dissolved into an out and out drunken bar brawl. They stumbled out a side door into the balmy night air, Merle barely managing to walk by this stage.

"Whooee, little brother," he crowed as he leaned heavily on Daryl, arm around his neck, "we showed 'em, didn't we?"

"Yeah," said Daryl in annoyance as he half carried Merle away from the bar, "we did." He glanced back over his shoulder to the door back into the door, worried that any minute now someone was going to chase them outside and the brawl would start up in the street next. Daryl scowled as he dragged Merle towards his bike. It was going to be hell getting his drunk, high and vaguely concussed brother onto the back of his bike but he had to try. "Come on," he ground out as Merle didn't offer much help, "we gotta get outta here."

"I want-want another drink," babbled Merle. "I ain't done drinkin' yet."

"You're done," said Daryl darkly as he tried to get them to his bike as fast as he can. He was halfway there when a pickup truck pulled up in front of them, blocking their escape route to the bike. Daryl tensed, ready to fight both his and Merle's way out of this latest development when a familiar face popped itself out of the driver's window.

"You two best better haul your butts on board before someone notices you're gone."

Daryl felt a wave of relief at seeing Lamont and hearing his offer of help. He tugged on Merle to get him around to the passenger's side. "Come on," he urged his brother, "we got us a ride."

"I'm drivin'!" announced a drunken Merle.

"Sure you are, boy," said Lamont mockingly as he grabbed Merle by the scruff of his shirt and helped Daryl haul him into the front seat of the pickup where Merle promptly passed out.

Daryl scrambled in after him and slammed the door shut as Lamont peeled out of the bar parking lot. "Thanks," he said unevenly, looking in the rear vision mirror to check no one was following them.

"I was done drinkin' for the night," said Lamont easily. "The ambience of that place can wear a little thin after a bit."

"Especially with dumb as shit rednecks makin' a nuisance of themselves." Daryl cast a dark, angry look at the uncaring Merle who was happily unconscious.

"Yeah, well, you don't go to a place called 'Blood, Sweat and Beers' and expect to move up the social ladder none."

"More likely to smash that ladder over someone's head," Daryl muttered.

Lamont laughed. "Or up someone's ass."

Daryl actually smiled at that and it wasn't long before Lamont was pulling up at the roach motel that he and Merle were staying at.

Lamont watched as Daryl jumped out of the car and went to pull Merle out. "You need a hand?"

Daryl managed to throw Merle over his shoulder and straighten up. "Nah, I got it. Plenty of practice."

"So I see."

Daryl managed an embarrassed smile. "Ah, thanks for your help," he said stiffly.

"No problem, man."

Daryl didn't know why Lamont had helped them out and long after he'd thrown Merle down onto his bed to let him sleep it off, and gone for a walk, he still didn't know. The next morning Merle was an unmoving lump stinking of whiskey and smoke on the bed as Daryl walked out the front of their hotel room for a smoke. As he lit up his first cigarette of the day and ignored the torn and bloodied skin on his knuckles, Lamont pulled up in his pickup. In the back of the car were Merle and Daryl's bikes. Daryl's eyes widened with surprise as he walked out to greet Lamont. "You brought us our bikes?"

Lamont climbed out of the car and walked around to the tray at the back to where the bikes were tied down. "It's a bit of a walk back to the bar and I don't reckon it's a good idea for either of you to be showin' your faces round there at the moment. Elwood and his boys are still out for blood." He glanced over Daryl's shoulder back at the room. "Sleepin' beauty still waitin' for his prince to come?"

Daryl gave a grunt. "What shits me is he ain't even gonna have much of a hangover from all of this."

"His face ain't gonna feel like a whole lot of fun though," commented Lamont as he helped Daryl unload the bikes. "Elwood got in more than a couple of good punches."

"Merle woulda done worse." It was just how his brother was.

"Yeah," said Lamont quietly as he closed up the tray of his pickup. "That kid your brother took the pool cue to, his name was Farley, just turned twenty one. He ended up in hospital. Got himself some brain damage. Doctors don't reckon he's gonna be able to walk right again."

Daryl looked away, not wanting to hear that.

"It's a real shame. Farley had just been accepted into the army. He was real excited, lookin' to see the world. Guess that ain't gonna happen now."

Daryl forced his eyes up to meet Lamont's steady gaze but then couldn't hold it and he went back to staring at the dirt.

Lamont leaned against his pickup, voice calm. "What are you doin' here, Daryl?"

Daryl looked up and frowned. "What do you mean?"

Lamont jerked his head to one side to indicate the hotel room behind him. "That brother of yours, he's no good."

Daryl's expression darkened. "He's my brother."

"You want the truth of it," said Lamont steadily. "What he is, is a rabid dog, lashin' out at everythin' and everyone."

Daryl stiffened at the analogy, jaw hardening.

"The kindest thing you can do for a creature like that is to put it down."

Daryl's eyes narrowed menacingly. "You suggestin' I kill my brother? What kind of messed up shit is that?"

"I ain't sayin' kill him," said Lamont mildly.

"Then what are you sayin'?" asked Daryl angrily.

"I'm sayin' stop pretendin' that you can save him."

Lamont's words cut through Daryl hard. "You don't know shit about Merle and me."

"I know what I see," said Lamont simply. "I like you, Daryl. I think you're more than livin' like this. Merle is just holdin' you back. You keep thinkin' there is gonna be some cure for him, but there ain't. Merle is Merle, a blind man can see that. He's always gonna be this rabid dog, foamin' at the mouth and you pretendin' otherwise ain't helpin' anyone, least of all your brother."

Daryl didn't know what to say to that. "Merle's my brother. We're kin."

Lamont's expression was sober. "Then be his brother and put him outta his misery before he puts you outta yours. Get on that bike and drive away and don't look back."

A part of Daryl wanted to do just that but even before he spoke, Daryl knew that wasn't going to happen. "I can't," he said hoarsely. "We have to stick together. Brother's stick together." Merle's mantra was seared into his soul.

Lamont's look was quietly sympathetic. "Your brother ain't lookin' to be saved, Daryl. One day you're gonna have to deal with that reality, whether you like it or not."

oooOOOOooo

Daryl shook his head, dispelling the unwelcome memory of a conversation from a different world and a stranger who had wanted to spare him from the future he could see for Daryl. He and Merle had packed up and driven out of that town later on the same day but Daryl had never been able to forget Lamont's words to him, no matter how hard he tried. They'd lingered in the back of his brain, like the threat of a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled and that wait was over now. The world had changed, but Merle hadn't. Daryl hadn't wanted to face what his brother was back then, hell, he didn't want to now, but there was no choice. Daryl would die protecting Merle from other people without hesitation, but from Merle himself, there was no way to protect his brother from his own self-destructive tendencies. Never had been truth be told. Lamont had been right all along, just as Daryl had feared and refused to believe at the time. Some cold drops of rain hit his back and Daryl looked to the heavens, taking in the way the clouds were so low and heavy and that ominous black/green colour. "The rains ahead of us," he said shortly.

"That's going to wash out the tracks," fretted Glenn. He looked at Daryl for confirmation. "Right?"

"It don't matter," said Daryl tersely. "I know where Merle's headin'." At least he was pretty sure.

"Then we'd best get movin'," said Rick quickly. "Before all hell breaks loose."

Daryl didn't know if Rick was talking about the weather or what Merle was up to but it didn't matter, either way they had to get ahead of this thing. It was time to finally be free of Merle and the hold he had over him but the thought wasn't a welcome one. Instead a deep grief settled on Daryl as he grimly accepted he wasn't hunting for his brother anymore, but rather that rabid dog. It was time to do what he had to do and set them all free.

This moment had been coming all of their lives.

oooOOOOooo

Carol eyed Merle suspiciously as he tore a piece out of his shirt. "Is this it?" she looked around the cave they were in. She and Carl were tied up with their hands behind their backs and propped up against the back wall of the cave. "Your big plan was to take us back to your lair?" Carol looked over at the remains of a fire and the bottle half full of clear liquid sitting by it. It was obvious Merle had been here before and maybe even Daryl. The remains of the fire looked fresh.

Merle gave a snort of amusement. "You make me sound like a super villain with that lair shit."

"I wouldn't call you super," sniped Carol. "Mediocre at best."

Merle grabbed the bottle of what Carol assumed was alcohol. "But I am the villain of the piece. That's what you're sayin', right?"

"You kidnapped us and hit Carol," snapped Carl, joining in on the discussion now. "You're not the hero, Merle."

Merle soaked the torn off piece of his shirt with the liquid from the bottle and shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by the criticism. "Maybe I'm just misunderstood."

"Or maybe you're understood completely," she threw back.

Merle crouched down beside Carol. "You think you got me worked out, woman? Is that what you're sayin'?" He lifted his hand with the cloth to her mouth and Carol jerked her head back.

"Leave her alone!" yelled Carl, kicking out at him.

Merle easily avoided the attack. "Settle down, boy. I'm just cleanin' Carol up." He looked back at her and arched an eyebrow as he held up the damp cloth. "Don't need you smellin' of blood when we head back out there." Merle reached out and carefully wiped away at the trail of blood staining Carol's lips and chin. The smell of strong liquor assailed Carol senses as she let Merle clean her up. Merle was intent on the task at hand. "I don't hold with hittin' women," he informed her. "Not as a rule anyways."

"Not unless they really deserve it," said Carol coolly. "Isn't that normally how it goes?"

"I lost control," said Merle simply. "I ain't proud of it."

"And that's your biggest problem, Merle." Carol caught his gaze and held it unblinkingly now that they were in such close proximity. "Thinkin' you had any kind of control in the beginnin'."

"I got more than anyone else right now," he shot back. "You're all dancin' to my tune now, missy."

"You're a manipulator," Carol accused him roundly. "It's not the same thing."

Merle was unbothered. "I prefer the term, 'outcome engineer'," he countered straight-faced as he finished cleaning her up and sat back against the opposite wall.

Carol rolled her eyes. "Of course you do. You know, for a man who prides himself on tellin' things how they are, you sure do tell yourself a whole lot of crap. You hide behind terms and justifications that serve your own purpose."

"Well, shit," drawled Merle, "don't everyone?" He scratched at his chest absently. "But I can tell you this, I ain't gonna miss one wink of sleep over how this is gonna turn out cause I'm in the right with all of this."

"A clear and peaceful conscience, that's you, is it, Merle?" Carol looked around at the cave. "Seems to me like you're havin' that peaceful sleep in a prison of your own makin'. You know you've set up a bad situation here. You've put Daryl in a real bad place and you're tellin' me you're okay with that?"

"We're brothers," offered up Merle. "We're bound together tighter than anythin' you can imagine. It's what gonna save us all in the end. Daryl is gonna do the right thing by me, just like I'm gonna do the right thing by him. It's in our blood. "

Carol and Carl exchanged confused looks and then she was back to talking to Merle. "Is any of that garbled rhetoric and chest thumping meant to make sense to us?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Merle dismissively. "You don't share what me and Daryl share and never will."

"You think of yourself first and the Daryl second and you want me to stand in awe of your great brotherly love?" Carol said sharply. "That ain't gonna happen, Merle."

Merle scowled. "I'm gettin' tired of you thinkin' you know somethin' I don't."

"Your whole life you've checked out with drugs and alcohol or just plain runnin'," said Carol, not backing down. "This is the first time you haven't had those things to take the edge off of thinkin' 'bout who you really are and the consequences of your actions." She nodded at the bottle sitting beside Merle's knee. "You finish that bottle of hooch and then you're on your own, Merle. Who you really are is gonna come home and roost and there is gonna be nuthin' to filter it out for you. You've never had to deal with your choices before now. You made yourself believe in your justifications for your actions and never once thought about how it impacted on the one person in this world who loves you the most."

"Shut up," growled Merle. "Shut the fuck up."

"I can stop talkin'," said Carol undaunted, "but that ain't gonna change the truth. You say you're in the right with all of this, just who are you tryin' to convince?"

"I'm fightin' for my brother," bit out Merle. "That's love."

"That's fear," she countered.

Merle gave a disdainful snort. "I ain't afraid."

"If you weren't afraid, then Carl and me wouldn't be sitting here."

Merle ground his teeth together at Carol's relentless comebacks. Her yapping was giving him a headache. "You spent the last decade linin' up to have a man punch the shit out of you on a regular basis," said Merle snidely. "Why should I be listenin' to a thing you say?"

Carol's expression was deadly serious as she answered him, her voice quiet but full of conviction. "Because I know what it's like to be hurt over and over again by the one person who claims to love you the most in the world and is meant to keep you safe." Carol took a deep breath. "And then think it's your fault." Her chin came up in defiance. "It took me a long time to see the truth, Merle, but now I do, it's all I can see and I can't pretend otherwise."

Merle stared at Carol, seeing the hard won, unflinching strength in the woman's eyes. For the first time, he allowed himself to feel the fear he'd been fighting so hard to outrun all these years. "No more talkin'," he said hoarsely. "We're done talkin'." Merle turned away to look out at the entrance of the cave but he could still feel Carol's eyes on him, even as he studiously ignored her and her chilling insight...