So... This ending didn't go as I expected... I must say, I have been on both sides so for me the ending is fine. But, for most, they may fight it a bit. I have been the one suffering the Child hood trama and the one who has conforted the tramatised. There is a point to the way I did Arrons point of view, but its mostly just how much he really wants Daryl.

I really only write because I want so of course it shows in my stories.

~Loner

Okay, so… this is not what Arron had planned to do with is day after coming back from trying to get Merle's dumbass off a random ass roof in Atlanta. Arron lifted his hands up again over a random, ugly face of one of the flash eaters that decided to invade the camp. Hands, wrapped securely around the long, slightly curved handle of his katana, were brought down with a shocking amount of force for a man of his build. Well, maybe not that shocking when he thinks about it. Even though Arron had never been all that active in his younger years, Merle's dumb bad luck (i.e. bad temper) pulled Arron into one too many situations where muscles were a must to survive… Needless to say Arron wasn't that lanky kid at his current age, but, for some reason, every time the bladed end went down, he could hear the baited breath of his fellow workers suck inwards like they were shocked. Weirdos, he thought quietly, pulling his weapon from the head it was stuck in. Arron's eyes darted over to Daryl, almost subconsciously, to check up on the kid and his location (the older man was very serious about his oath to stay between Rick and Daryl).

Daryl was swinging a pick axe down on the head of one of the use-to-be's of the main camp. Arron hummed to himself, taking a moment before walking to the next body, to watch those delicious muscles work their magic. Lifting the axe above the boys head, then down the axe went, landing with a sickening 'squish.' It was beautiful really, in Arron's point of view. Daryl was beautiful, deadly beautiful.

Then there was a commotion. Of course, there was always a commotion, Arron thought as his head naturally turned to the camp fire that was surrounded by, what Arron had mentally (Merle had voiced) dubbed, 'the lazies'. While we're over here working and doing all the heavy lifting, they're over there enjoying a nice days rest; Arron rolled his eyes upwards in spite. The only thing keeping him going in his old age at this point in the day was: his worry for Daryl and the possibility of one of these fuckers around him being careless enough to miss one of the dead fuckers on the ground, thus putting his kid in harm's way.

Arron watched out of the corner of his eyes as Daryl almost tripped pulling the pick axe out of the next dead walker's head, chuckling as the boy tried to play it off as he stumbled towards the main camp fire. Then, Arron was there, making up the space between them with long, lazy steps, to take his place as protector and divider between his boy and the asshole named Rick Grimes.

"Ya'll can't be serious," Daryl complained, and Arron was pretty sure he was the only one who heard the slight panic in his near whining voice. "You're just going to let that girl," the word said with disgust as he through his arm out in the blonds direction, almost smacking Arron in the chest for being too close, "hamstring us." Arron's lips would have lifted in amusement if the situation wasn't so tense. "Tha dead girl's a time bomb."

"What do you suggest we do?" Rick snapped, causing Arron to bristle in annoyance, offended for Daryl, who is just trying to help.

Arron watched, troubled, as Daryl basically leaned around his body to get in Rick's face. His hand flew up, before he could register the action, to pull the kid a little further away from the man beside him.

"Take the shot!" Daryl all but demanded from the man, leaning slightly closer to Arron and allowing his Pa's hand guild him back, "from here."

"No!" a woman's voice interjected. Everyone truned to the lady- lowkee? Arron wondered. Names where Daryl and, maybe, Merle's thing. For all Arron knew it was Dorkie. The woman did look dorkie in that white tank and dark bra. Arron knew clothes were in short supply these days and it was hot as balls out, but really? The look screamed 'whore' even to Arron, who usually didn't notice these things. "for Gods sakes," the woman muttered, lower now that she had all eyes on her, "Leave her alone." Her tone almost seemed shy as she twisted her legs under her as she sat indian style on the ground.

Huh, Arron thought, that was strangely unusual for this particular female. Usually, she had no problems getting up into someone's face. Now, here she was pretending to be shy, almost obedient.

After that, everyone seemed to come to an agreement that neither Daryl nor Arron like. Arron quickly lead Daryl away from the pit, wanting, for at least the moment, to get away from the dead body that will become a health hazard to his boy.

"Our people over there!" Glen cried, desperately. Arron paused in what he was doing- back at it with knifing foreheads of the dead- to look over at the Korean kid. It was clear he was about to have a break down if Daryl and that one guy he still doesn't know the name to kept pushing the issue.

Daryl looked a little lost on what to do, so Arron made his way over to the boy's side, reaching out to lightly trail his fingertips over the developing muscles. When Daryl looked at him, Arron wordlessly jerked his chin in the direction Glen was gesturing too. "Let's go." Arron dropped his hand, bending to help pick the body from the ground, expertly ignoring Glen's appreciative glances.

Arron liked Glen… sort of. Glen was a baby when it came to things like this, he had noticed. Not on purpose, mind you. It's just, when you live in such a small area with so many people, you noticed things: Like how Glen basically cries himself to sleep, or how the ex-pizza delivery man would watch all the family units of the camp with sad eyes. Glen was a family man, and, as a family man, he couldn't help but care about people, or things he saw as people, anyway (clearly, flesh eaters weren't people in Glen's eyes).

Just the group was almost to the body drop off; Daryl opened his mouth, "reap what you sow."

If Arron wasn't holding the smelly ass feet of an unnamed body, he would have smacked the kid. Did the child even realize that: a. they were surrounded and b. they were forced into this 'reaping' situation as well? Arron knew the boy was just blowing of steam for the situation as a whole, but damn it all to hell. Arron dropped the dirty shoes almost the same time as Daryl tried to strut off.

"Man, shut up," the man next to Daryl said, dropping his half of the body.

Furry howled in his boy's voice when he turned back to glare at the man, "You left my brother for dead! You had this comin'."

This time Arron did reach over when they both were out of site and smacked him upside the head.

Daryl turned his glare onto his Pa, trying to ignore the hurt and betrayal from the smack. "t'is true!" the kid snarled at the traitor.

"You realize we got stuck in the middle of it too, right?" Arron stated aloofly, like it wasn't a big deal. Honestly, every time Daryl glared at him, Arron kept getting flash backs to when the boy was 10 and trying to glare him down for a cookie of all things. It made him laugh.

"So?" Daryl snapped at the man, "We are just as at fault. We should have been with him."

Arron frowned at that statement. While, yes, it was true, they should have been with Merle, at least as back up, Merle would always be Merle. The man was very talented in what he does. "Oh, love," Arron reached out, sliding a hand along the back of Daryl's neck, "Merle will be alright. Merle is always going to do what Merle does best." Arron's glaze soften at the glassy look in Daryl's eyes, a small whine escaping the boy as he leaned into Arron, allowing himself to seek the comfort the boy knew Arron would always give him. "He will come back," Arron promised, "He always does." The stubborn bastard, Arron snarled mentally. Daryl made a noise that sounded suspiciously like sniffling to Arron, and the man found himself pulling the boy into his embrace, holding the shaking body tightly in his arms. Once again, Arron found himself cursing at Merle in his mind. Fuck that man for doing this, again!, to his babe. Daryl had very few he could trust in his life. Arron shuttered a little when shaking hands slid along his front to grip his shirt. Daryl was going to be the death of him, Arron thought as he tried to shift the front part of his body away from the child in his arms. Just what he didn't need at the moment, a raging hard on- thank you, Daryl. Fucking Arron, he scolded himself, don't even think about it! However, to be honest, it was too late. Arron's mind was already so deep in the gutter that it took everything in him to keep from pushing Daryl into the nearest… well, anything, and ravishing him. Fuck.

Then there was Daryl, genuinely upset, thinking of nothing else but how his older brother, once again, abandoned him to the mercy of the world. At this point in his life, you would think he would learn that the only one he could really count on was his Pa, whom was always right where he needed the man to be, when he needed the man to be. "Don' leave Pa!" he found himself whispering in quiet panic when he felt the man shift slightly, making him think Arron was going to break away from him. He clung, pressing more into the man, burying his head into Arron's neck. "Please, don' leave me. I'll be good." It was almost like he had reverted back to that abused child his Pa was constantly trying to save from the man Merle swore was his real father. "I'll be good, Pa. Just don't leave me too." A hand made its way into his hair, like it always did, when Daryl was too worked up and oblivious to everything. "I'll be a good boy."

PTSD was a thing for abused children, and, as hard as Arron tried to help Daryl through it, somethings still set the boy off. Like, Arron glared into a space over Daryl's shoulder, Merle leaving Daryl without a second thought to the mercy of the man who spawn them both. Arron did what he always did in these moments. "My love," he whispered in the younger's ear, "I'm right here." Arron reassured the boy as best as he could, struggle through the lusty haze that always tried to cloud his judgement when it came to touching the boy. He couldn't help that part of him that was constantly craving to take Daryl and make him officially his. It was really annoying, Arron thought bitterly even as he tried to pull Daryl back into the land of reality. Poor kid was going to be both extremely embarrassed when he pulled himself together and tired as hell. "I'm not going anywhere."