AN: It's 3am and my kids have school in the morning—hubby is off to Melbourne for two days—so what do I do? I get my butt into gear and write a chapter. Hoping to start on the next one tomorrow, if I can keep my eyes open! I am devoting the second half of this chapter to ImOrca, who I give all credit for the idea to. She'll know what I mean ;)

Part Thirty-Seven

She was a thing of beauty. A stunning example of sleek lines, grace and the epitome of nature and T-Dog was going to swear on a hundred bibles that he was in love. He was absolutely salivating he was so in love. He was sweating from how in love he was.

He stood perfectly still, barely breathing as he watched in awe, as he contemplated his best chance of attack, how he was going to make this beauty his. He had no freaking idea how. He was totally lost at sea, clueless and mystified. A newbie with shaking legs and thumping heart, but have her he would. If he didn't get his hands on her soon he was going to explode.

He'd never been a hunter, was accustomed to what he wanted just falling into his lap, but this time, this time she was going to make him work for it. She was going to make him beg. He already knew he would, he'd cry if he had to, but before he dared wake up on another day, he'd have her, and he'd feed on her flesh like he'd never fed before.

She subtly scanned her surrounds, not seeing him as he hid behind the bushes, and as he successfully evaded her, he licked his lips and desperately held in a starved moan. Her ears flickered, and his breath hitched in his throat, his heart thumping hard in panic. Shit, he was losing her, and he still hadn't worked out what to do.

A not-so-subtle crack to his ribs dragged his attention away briefly, but he grinned as soon as Michonne thrust the gun into his hand, shrugging her shoulders in a casual manner, implying she didn't give a crap if he killed the deer but he could see the hunger in her eyes and it matched his own. It was a risk—they both knew a gunshot could bring a herd of walkers down on their heads, but there were only so many cans of peas a man could shovel down before his stomach revolted, and he was pretty sure that limit had been reached. Moving as slow as he dared, he took aim—at the animal's body. He knew he didn't have a hope in hell of getting it between the eyes and he knew no shame in that, easily recalling that deer back at the quarry camp that had been littered with Daryl's arrows. If the redneck couldn't get a doe between the eyes, then T-Dog wasn't going to consider it a failure to not even try.

One clanging expulsion of a bullet later and he was whooping with delight, until Michonne punched him hard in the arm.

"Go pick the damn thing up off the ground. I'll cover you."

It was a struggle, but he awkwardly hefted that thing off the forest floor and dangled it across his shoulders, nearly buckling to his knees at the weight. They'd barely begun to move when walkers started to appear from the trees from all directions, maybe ten of the filthy, greedy things. Michonne sliced them a path through and thankfully, after enough running to make him gasp and choke for breath and his knees consider giving out completely, they found the abandoned shack where she'd tied up her pets. She kicked the door in and helped him wrestle their load inside before barricading the entrance with the only piece of furniture not bolted to the floor.

They stayed quiet and watched for hours, and when she finally decided it was clear, they cut that beast up and had them some venison. T-Dog felt like he'd been cooking forever, but the meat wouldn't keep so they had to stuff themselves as much as they could. The memory of canned peas was a nightmare he knew would possibly be back on their menu faster than it took to shoot their dinner, and he was going to stuff himself so full that he wouldn't be able to move. He barely even glanced at Michonne until he'd scoffed almost half the steaks he'd cut, his eyebrow cocked as Michonne moaned, flopped back on the floor, flicking open the snap on her jeans and let the biggest fart he'd ever heard from a woman rip through the shack's confines. His mouth dropped open in shock.

"Hell, girl, that's just nasty."

"Better out than in," she said, her eyes squeezed shut as her belly protruded out of her pants and she groaned in a mix of misery and satisfaction.

He cracked it, laughing until his bulging belly pushed against his bladder and the smell of waste canned peas drifted to his nose, then he was retching while trying to pinch his nostrils closed with his fingers.

"Bitch, I vote next time you keep that shit in."

"There's no keeping shit in, Theodore. Call it justice for my having to hear you let them go every twenty minutes when you sleep and I'm stuck keeping watch. Some nights you've got a symphony playing in your pants."

He didn't think it was possible that he could still blush after spending over a month in close proximity with this woman. She had no shame, absolutely none, and no respect for him being a man. If he looked hard, he was sure he'd see some crisp, black curls peeping out the top of her bright red panties, and he knew before the day was out he'd probably catch a full on frontal of her tits as she changed tops. She never even asked him to turn around. He hadn't decided yet if she was actively trying to tempt him so she could cut off his dick, fuck him into the floor, or if she just figured he was gay and not interested in her goodies. Hell, one of these days he was going to free Big Willy and watch her eyes fall out of her head. Here he was, the dawg, and he was the one too prim and proper to flash his wares when she had no damn trouble at all. He was damned ashamed of himself.

"That's 'cause I'm a man, baby girl. It's what men do."

She arched a perfectly shaped brow. "I'm absolutely sure God made us equal. Men just have no manners to keep it quiet."

"That's what I said," he said with a face-splitting grin. "It's what men do."

She rolled her eyes, then groaned out loud. "God, I'm so full I feel ill." Before he could blink, she unzipped the front of her vest, allowing it to slide open except for the small upper corners that hid her nipples, though he had a full, unfettered view of her curves and the sharp jut of her ribs. He was going to die.

"Yeah, my pants are too tight," he teased, testing the waters, nearly jerking into his boxers as her eyes wandered over his lower half lazily.

"Take them off, then. There's no one around to notice."

Well, fuck.

Christ, he'd forgotten how far he'd walked after beating Merle's ass into the ground, thinking about his fucked up life and how he was going to handle being a pa. They'd been going at a steady pace for hours and Daryl still wasn't sure if they were close or if the place he'd found had just been a mirage that had appeared, offering him salvation and a reason to make him turn around and get back to the group.

"So, little brother. How's it feel to be a man finally?"

He knew it was coming—was shocked, to tell the truth, that it had taken Merle this long before he started in on him.

"Shut up." He was concentrating, had to find this place so they didn't all think he'd lost his mind, making up stories and shit.

"Come on, bro. I been waitin' damn near forty years for your dick to see the light of day. Don't shut me out now."

Daryl ground to a halt, glared at the dirt and gnashed his teeth instead of taking a damn big bite out of his dumb as shit brother.

"Hold on," Shane piped up, elbowing Rick to the side as he made short work of getting in front of Daryl. "Is Merle makin' the big reveal that you were a virgin? You get Carol pregnant your first time out of the box?"

Shane and Merle started laughing, Daryl flexing his fists that hung at his sides as he glared at the two of them.

"Merle don't know shit about nothin'. Pretty hard to keep tabs on my sex life when he's in an outa prison."

"Weren't always in prison, you little shit."

Temper at boiling point, Daryl shoved Merle and got right up into his face. "I'm a fuckin' grown-ass man, jackass. I might not stick it in every snatch that walks past, but I know what to do with it when I choose ta. Not that it's any o'your concern."

"Well, you don't know shit about coverin' it up, Darylina, or I wouldn't be on my way to becomin' Uncle Merle, would I?"

Daryl stopped just short of smashing the grin on Merle's face right into his teeth, and took a really good look at his brother. He was smiling, his body relaxed, having fun teasing Daryl to within an inch of his patience. All the huff suddenly evaporated right out of him and he sagged in defeat.

"Fuck, just get it over with," he said, his head hanging low as he studied the grass around his feet.

"I even got the perfect name for it. You can call the tyke Badger."

Rick and Shane looked warily between the two brothers, confused.

"Hell, I'll bite," said Shane, smirking so hard his teeth shone in the sunlight. "Why Badger? We ain't even had one of those for dinner yet."

"An' we ain't gonna, neither. Not if my nephew's gonna be called Badger," Merle declared hotly, but with a twinkle in his eye.

"Merle, the baby could be a girl," Rick interjected wisely, and Daryl rolled his eyes and slapped his own head.

"Fuck. We ain't callin' this kid Badger, an' we ain't gonna be eatin' none, neither. No badgers in these parts anyways." He shouldn't even have to say it.

"No, wait. I got this shit all worked out," Merle said, holding his hand out to stop Daryl arguing, as if he'd take notice of that simplistic gesture. Daryl growled deep in his throat and wondered if he could get away with smacking his brother in the head with his crossbow. "Badger As-salaam Dixon. Seems only fittin' seein' as how you're draggin' our asses through the woods to find God."

Rick and Shane stared at Merle, obviously dumbfounded by the suggestion.

"The hell you come up with a name like that? What's it mean?" Shane looked genuinely interested, staring at Merle with a whole new respect and understanding.

"It means, dumbass, peace an' safety an' it has the added karma of being God's divine name. Perfect for Mr. Zen over there, and for short the little one can be Bad Ass Dixon. It's fuckin' perfect."

There was a short, beautiful moment of silence, and then Shane, Rick and Merle laughed hysterically at the joke, laughing harder at Daryl's disgusted look as he stomped off away from them. "You assholes just jinxed this kid. It's gonna be a girl, an' it's gonna have Merle's personality. Won't be no peaceful brat, that's for sure."

He was on his own for the rest of the way, the others lagging behind making fun of him and chumming it up with Merle. He was so surprised by it, and secretly pleased that Merle was bonding, that he didn't care too much, just plotting his course by the position of the sun so he could get back to where he'd found that place before.

Forty minutes later he found himself suddenly blocked by the stone wall that had ended his previous introspective journey. He stopped, getting more impatient the longer it took for the others to catch up.

"I barely made it back before dark last time. You lot might wanna get the lead out of your asses," he shouted, not caring if a ton of walkers descended down on their fool heads.

They broke into a jog and finally met him around the wall at a wrought iron gate, fancy pattern work overgrown with ivy and all clamped together with heavy duty chains. Daryl gave the immobile gate a useless shove before he set off again around the wall, looking for another way into the place.

He was walking quite a way around, seeing how vast an area the compound occupied, when he came across a part of the wall that had a fallen tree against it. It would still be an interesting trip up the trunk but he figured they'd make it. They were men after all, and reasonably fit. One by one they scaled the fence and dropped over to the other side, weapons at the ready. Merle was the last but even with a knife in place of a hand, he got up with no trouble, throwing his brother an arrogant smirk that just made Daryl roll his eyes once again. Fucking things were starting to ache.

"First things first, we find another way back over in case the place is swarming with walkers," Rick told them quietly, so they quickly set about finding a way out of the place on the chance they had to get out fast.

They'd entered at what looked like the back of the place, a good distance from the main building where Daryl suspected a nasty surprise contained within waited for them. The section looked almost rural, and when the strident bellow of a cow behind a barn sounded out, they nearly pissed their pants.

"Holy shit," Shane shouted, excited as he ran around the barn and pulled up short, Rick just barely stopping before slamming into his back. "Is that a freaking cow?"

Daryl stalled, staring at the spacious field that was the home of three cows and two calves.

"Cows. Milkin' cows, too." Merle scratched his head and licked his lips. "Shit. I ain't had fresh milk since before they locked me up."

Rick and Shane both tore their gaze away from the liquid gold chewing their cud in the fields to stare incredulously at Merle.

"Am I to assume from that you were still locked up when all this shit went down?" Rick asked, his hand reflexively hovering over his holster.

"Hey, chill, man. They let us all go. Daryl didn't break me out. Prisoners were all free as birds when the world went all to fuck." Merle didn't even look scared of the sudden threat, a shit-eating grin settling across his lips as he eyed the two former cops with a non-verbal challenge. "Not like I was in there for anythin' more than possession anyhow." He shrugged like it was no big deal, and since he'd been clean for months now, he didn't feel like it was anymore. It wasn't like he could go seek out his dealer to replenish his stash, and since he'd been back with the group, there'd been no sign of his old one. Daryl knew he'd been looking, though he'd tried not to be obvious about it.

"Let's get on with it, yeah?" He headed off, coming to another stop when he saw the hen house teeming with chickens and then a bit further out a lake with what looked like ducks. Merle slapped him on the back as he came to settle beside him. "You think there might be fish in that lake?" Daryl asked, just waiting for Merle to start spouting some biblical verse about how God was providing for them by having faith or some other bullshit. Merle was always coming out with crap like that.

Merle opened his mouth and Daryl glared. "Just don't even fuckin' start."

"You got a problem with the good Lord providin' for his people?" Merle asked, cracking a grin.

"I got a problem with things bein' too damn perfect," Daryl admitted, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought it all out. Shane and Rick stood beside him after setting up some sacks of grain against the wall for a speedy getaway should they need it, though Daryl was sure with the existence of live animals in the yard, they'd be pretty safe.

Shane eyed him, his own brow furrowed with concern. "You got a bad feelin' about this place?"

Daryl shrugged, not quite sure what he was feeling now he was inside. All he knew was, if it looked too good to be true, it most times was. He nodded toward the main section of the compound, a dirt road quickly turning into a blacktop as it meandered through the centre of the little township, small huts that looked friendly and family-oriented set out a nice distance from each other on one side and a small business area along the other. Right at the end was the largest building, painted brown to blend in, Daryl guessed. At this he stared, and his flesh buzzed with warning.

"You remember WACO?" he asked while staring down the street at the building with an unwavering sense of foreboding.

"Oh shit," Shane said as he stepped forward, whipping off his hat and rubbing his head. "You think that's where all the followers are?"

Daryl nodded slowly, expression solemn. "Yeah. Think they all gathered in there an' whichever asshole thought he was God in this place, convinced 'em it was part of the grand plan to opt out. I'm thinkin'…there's a fuck ton of walkers in there."

The four of them stood in a line across the road, cows pulling grass out by the roots and chewing it behind them, and they stared at what was likely the biggest threat against them being able to claim this place as their own—take possession of their new home.

"Best go check it out then. Not gonna know shit if we're all standin' 'round here like a buncha girls," Merle declared as he took off down the road, walking straight down the middle like he had nothing to fear.

"It's Hershel's barn all over again," Shane growled under his breath but closely following Merle's heels.

Rick held Daryl back with a hand on his shoulder. "We need this place."

The sky was already beginning to tip toward the latter half of the day and Daryl could feel the imperceptible shift in the temperature, signalling the coming of night. They needed to see what was what and head back if they had any chance of making it back to their people before dark, and Daryl wanted to get back to his people. Back to Carol. Back to Sophia. He knew what this place was. It was hope in the middle of Hell. It was a place his family could call home. It was a place his group could make a community, like Merle's buddy the Governor, but without the psycho at the helm.

"Yeah," he answered Rick, his voice dry and coarse with the pressure of trying not to hope too hard. "We do."

When he looked back, Merle and Shane had already seen whatever needed to be seen and were running back to them, and running fast.

"Let's go," Shane yelled, and without even stopping, the two of them passed Daryl and Rick and headed straight for the wall, Shane almost catapulting right over it with the momentum of his run, Merle scrabbling over just as quick behind him. Rick and Daryl took a final look down the street, saw absolutely no movement but followed the other two men anyway, but at a decidedly slower pace, grinning a little at how spooked the other two had been. Rick went over first, followed by Daryl and he landed to find Shane and Merle panting and snickering like two little boys being caught sticking their hands in their mamma's cookie jar.

Daryl stood before them, waiting for an explanation that was apparently not coming. "The hell was that all about?"

"Biters, baby bro." Merle bent double, his hand braced on his knee as he regained his breath.

"I'd say about a hundred at least," Shane agreed.

"Nah, closer to two hundred with all those kids in there," Merle added, and Daryl cringed. Kids. Of course there'd be kids.

Daryl watched as Rick's shoulders drooped and he wanted to kick him. He never expected this place could just fall into their laps without a fight. Well, now they knew what the fight was, they just had to plan a strategy so they could win it. "We'll have to clear it before we bring anyone back here."

Rick looked defeated before they'd even begun. "How you propose we gonna do that?"

"Don't know yet," Daryl replied honestly, but he wasn't giving in before they'd even tried. "We gotta come up with a plan. Let's head back and talk about it with Glenn and Hershel. There's gotta be a way."

"There's always a way, bro." Merle, recovered from his Olympic sprint, wrapped his arm across Daryl's shoulders and started tugging him back into the woods, heading back to the group. Daryl shrugged him off and gave him a shove, prepared for Merle's answering shove before he took off at a run, the brothers playing a strange game of tag as they tore off in the direction of the farm.

Rick and Shane jogged behind them, smirking as Merle took the lead, shouting back at Daryl to move his ass before he got to Carol and told her she was naming the kid Bad Ass Dixon. It came as no surprise when they got back that Daryl was nowhere to be seen and Merle was lying in the dirt, laughing his ass off in between groans of pain.

AN: All credit for Bad Ass Dixon goes to ImOrca. Who knows, Carol might even like Badger as a name ;)