AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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"You helpin'?" Daryl asked. "You got it? You got your side?"

Sophia grunted at him and he stifled a laugh.

"'Cause I don't think I'ma be able to get it, Soph—if you ain't pullin' your weight. You got it?"

"I got it, Daddy," Sophia finally declared.

In reality, she was supporting next to nothing of the bucket's weight. In order for the bucket not to drag the ground, Daryl had to hold it up to a height that required Sophia to hold her arm well above her head. It would have been impossible for most people—no matter their strength—to carry something that was such a large percentage of their body weight in such an awkward position for any length of time.

But, holding onto the water bucket's handle and keeping pace with Daryl, Sophia believed she was helping to carry the bucket and that was really all that mattered at the end of the day.

The natural underground wells fed the creeks and streams in the area. Many of them ran close to the prison and were easy to reach once they'd been located and paths to them had been cleared. They'd made their own well system that allowed them to pump water inside the fences though, from time to time, they had to spend some time cleaning out the lines.

If they had a little help with plumbing, and if they had some help with restoring electricity, they could easily supply their makeshift family with running water. Running water and electricity wouldn't take away all of their problems, but they would certainly go a long way toward simplifying their lives.

They were supposed to be meeting with some of the people from Woodbury about possibly gaining some help with such endeavors in exchange for some of the things that they could help them accomplish, but they were waiting for the citizens of Woodbury to tell them that they were ready to talk about things. Woodbury was abruptly without its leader, and it had some major regrouping to do while it worked out how things would move forward in the little city. When everything was in order, those who chose to come already had a standing invitation to visit the prison.

For the time being, they would keep going as they had been going. It might not be the easiest way they could do things, but it still got things done.

Daryl liked the idea, as well, of his children learning to do things in the most old-fashioned ways possible. At least that knowledge would mean that they would be prepared to handle the world if something should take away their modern luxuries, and they wouldn't suffer as much as some seemed to have suffered with the way that the world had changed in the past several years.

"You really gotta help me," Daryl said. "Your Ma ain't gonna be happy at all if I drop her washin' water all over the ground."

Sophia laughed to herself as she walked along, several times nearly stumbling over her own feet, and held to the bucket handle as though she were really doing the majority if the heavy lifting.

"I help you, Daddy!" She declared, teeth shining at him as she flashed him a toothy grin.

Daryl liked that confidence. He liked building that confidence up in her. He knew that she wasn't carrying the majority of the weight, and he knew that he was fully capable of carrying the bucket all the way to where Carol was waiting without her assistance, but she didn't know that. She believed that she was being helpful and, not just that, she believed that her help was indispensable. Daryl wanted her to believe those things about herself. He wanted her to believe all good things about herself.

He and Carol, both, knew what it was to believe bad things about yourself, and they wanted more for their children. They wanted to teach them how they deserved to be treated so that nobody else could ever convince them otherwise.

"You look like you strugglin' there, brother!" Merle called out, coming down the hill that Daryl and Sophia were headed up.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"Let's put this down a minute, Soph," Daryl said.

Sophia let him lower the bucket to rest on the ground between them, but she didn't let go of it in case he might need her help to make sure that it didn't somehow topple and roll backward down the hill.

"Bucket's heavy, Merle," Daryl said as Merle reached them. "You know how it is. Gettin' Soph here to help me get it up the hill for the next time Carol needs some more water for the washin' up."

"That right?" Merle mused. He hummed and eyed the small girl that was looking up at him and offering him a clear view of all the teeth that she'd grown in her few years of life. "You help carry that big ole bucket?"

"Mmmm hmmmm," Sophia hummed. "I help! It's water!"

Merle laughed to himself.

"Damn sure is," Merle said. "You need me to give you a hand with it, brother?"

"I think me an' Sophia got it," Daryl said. "Unless—you come down here for somethin' else."

"Just to bounce a couple ideas off you," Merle said. "Talk to you a minute."

"Come with us to get rid of this water an' I'm all ears," Daryl said.

"Would be a lil' faster if—I was to help you, Daryl," Merle mused.

Daryl smiled at him.

"But it wouldn't be half as fun, Merle," Daryl said with a wink.

Merle didn't look like he was too sure about what Daryl said, but he humored him and followed Daryl as he and Sophia made their way up the hill with the bucket. Carol wasn't in desperate need for the water since she still had a few buckets left to empty, but she thanked Daryl with a kiss just the same and she gave Sophia an enthusiastic hug and kiss to thank her for her efforts.

As they started back down the hill so that Daryl and Merle could talk about whatever was on Merle's mind, Sophia ran after them and practically weaved between their legs.

Daryl didn't say anything when she did her best to convince her Uncle Merle—whose name was just as garbled as most of the things that she tried to say—to pick her up. He did smile to himself, though, when Merle finally gave in and heaved her up.

Daryl noticed her staring at the metal cuff that covered the lower part of Merle's arm—the one which had missing the hand he'd removed with a hacksaw in Atlanta to free himself from Rick's handcuffs—but Merle didn't notice Sophia's staring and Sophia wasn't ready to ask what had happened. Eventually, Daryl knew, Sophia would quiz Merle on the injury. Daryl would let Merle handle his own story, but he hoped that he had the ability to do so without hurting the little girl's feelings in any way. Her curiosity, after all, was just that. She was the least judgmental creature in the world.

"They gonna want help with crops in Woodbury," Merle said. "They ain't hardly growin' shit there. Relyin' on what they can scavenge only."

"That works for a while," Daryl said. "But sooner or later…"

"Sooner or later it all runs out," Merle said. "They already learnin' that. Goin' further an' further out to find shit. The Governor put on a big show like we weren't runnin' outta damn near everything 'cause he ain't wanted nobody to panic, but things was rough. Once the cans run out, there's a good chance they won't see much in the way of fruits and vegetables. You got a good thing goin' here, though."

"I like fruit," Sophia announced, picking up on what she found interesting from their conversation.

"You do, huh?" Merle asked.

"Mmmm hmmm," Sophia said. "I like—red berries an' blueberries an' black berries."

"Soph'll eat any kinda fruit you give her," Daryl said. "But we got some berry bushes not far from here an' when they makin' berries, she'll 'bout eat 'em dry on her own. We've transplanted some. Hard to say yet if they gonna really take inside the fences. Blackberries oughta since they damn near scrub anyway."

"Woodbury ain't gonna have nothin' but berry bushes to live off of if they don't get 'em some kinda system like you got here," Merle mused.

"Hope to have good, reliable greenhouses by the time next spring rolls around," Daryl said. "Lookin' for some plans or somethin' somewhere, though. Maybe we find a library or—or something. We wanna do it right."

"Got a carpenter there," Merle said. "Don't know him too personally, but he's supposed to be someone's done some building before all this started. Maybe he knows somethin'. Got people that know about solar panels. Got the water runnin' in Woodbury. Damn near wouldn't realize that there was any kinda crazy shit happenin' outside of the walls if you weren't one of us that was in on the secret that the place is runnin' dry 'cause they can't find enough of what they need to keep livin' the way they livin'."

"Sounds like they need to learn about rationing while they learnin' about growin' their own food," Daryl said. "You hunt for 'em?"

Merle hummed in the negative and shook his head.

"My Daddy hunts!" Sophia announced quickly. She squirmed around and Daryl saw Merle adjust his hold to be sure that he didn't drop her. She might have felt the shift in position, because she wrapped her arms around his neck to secure herself.

"He a good hunter?" Merle asked. He winked at Daryl and laughed to himself.

"Him gets—him brings home the biggest foods," Sophia offered. Merle snorted in response.

"He tell you to say that?" Merle asked.

Sophia looked to Daryl like she wasn't sure how to respond and he shook his head. She looked back at Merle and shook her head.

"You hunt?" Merle asked.

"I'm too little," Sophia pointed out.

Merle laughed heartily, then.

"Yeah—kickback on a rifle would lay you out an' it'd take a bit to get a bow cut down to size for you. One day—maybe your Uncle Merle can show you how to hunt. Better'n your ole man, here."

Sophia frowned at him, but she didn't fully understand what he was saying. Daryl was sure of that. If she'd understood the implications of everything he was saying, she'd be equal parts excited about hunting and argumentative about his questioning Daryl's abilities to be the best at everything. Because she couldn't fully understand him, she chose not to respond to him. Merle took her silence as an opportunity to move on with what was on his mind.

"Governor had me huntin' other things," Merle said. "You understand. Didn't have time for me to go runnin' after somethin' like food when he thought they was more important things to be hunted down."

"Like Michonne?" Daryl asked with a snort.

The woman still hadn't fully adjusted to the prison. Maybe she was still dealing with all the changes that the end of the world brought. Maybe she was dealing with being behind the fences. Maybe she was dealing with something else, entirely, that she wasn't ready to discuss. She caged, sometimes, almost like some kind of large cat. She paced the lengths of the fences like she was checking them for weaknesses.

Maybe she'd find some. Maybe she'd have some ideas for repairing them.

For the time being, they let her work things out her way. They'd handle it if it looked like she needed a hand or like things were getting away from her.

"He wanted any damn body that knew about the place hunted down," Merle said. "Weren't my idea, but livin' is livin' after Officer Friendly leaves your ass for dead."

Daryl nodded. He frowned to himself.

"I could tell you every day how damn sorry I am, brother, that'cha got left like that," Daryl said.

"And it wouldn't buy me back a single day or grow me back even one finger," Merle said. "So don't waste your damned breath. Officer Friendly ain't sorry."

"Maybe he's damn sorry about a lot of things," Daryl said. "Things ain't turned out for him like he woulda wanted, I'm sure of that."

Merle laughed to himself.

"I'll remember to cry a few tears for him later tonight," Merle said. "But that weren't what the hell we was talkin' about. Was sayin' that they ain't got no huntin' goin' on neither. The people that lived there—most of 'em ain't knowed they were running outta food so quick."

Daryl looked at Sophia. She wasn't following along with anything they were saying. She rested with one arm wrapped around Merle's neck and the other hung at her side. She was watching the animal pens some distance away. Carl was just about to start doing something with the horses. She wouldn't stay with Merle much longer. Before Daryl could even point out that her interest was shifting, Sophia turned around pushed at Merle.

"Down," she said.

"Huh?" He asked.

"Down, please," Sophia said. "Down."

"She wants to get down," Daryl pointed out. "Where you headin', Soph?" She pointed out toward the pens. "Tell me with words, please."

"Horsies," Sophia said with some urgency. She usually seemed to think that there was a very precarious window during which things must be done. If she missed that window, nothing would ever be right again. If Carl was mucking out the horse pen or feeding the animals, he'd let her in as long as it was safe—no matter when she got down there. Likewise, if he felt it wasn't safe, he'd force her to stay outside the fences no matter how long she stood there and wailed about her predicament.

"Just—don't'cha run. They ain't goin' nowhere."

Daryl had barely said the words, though, before Sophia took off at the only speed she really seemed to find comfortable—as fast as she could go. He watched her until she reached the pens and he watched as Carl picked her up and carried her with him to do his chores. When she was settled, Daryl turned his attention back to the conversation that he was having with his brother.

"I built them smokehouses," Daryl said. He gestured to the two that they had. "Wanna build more. Maybe they ain't the nicest ones, but they stocked full of meat. That don't even count what we workin' on raisin' here ourselves. We ain't goin' hungry, not if I can help it. Saw what it was like to get hungry on the road. Worried about it. Worried about Carol and Sophia. Now I'm just thinkin' about that lil' one that Carol's growin' and—brother, I won't let her go hungry. Not even if I gotta track down the last damn deer in Georgia."

"Doubt that'cha would have to," Merle said. "This area's crawlin' with deer. They too fast for the Walkers and there ain't a ton of people huntin' 'em out. The smokehouses are nice, though. Figure you could trade some of what'cha know—some of what all of us know—in exchange for what'cha need to get this place even nicer than it is."

"That was the plan, weren't it?" Daryl asked. "Or did I hear wrong when we decided that the good people of Woodbury would be comin' to the prison for a table meeting on what we could exchange as we become somethin' like sister communities?"

"Your Officer Friendly run this place?" Merle asked, dropping all pretext.

Daryl glanced down toward the area where he knew that Rick was working with Hershel in their crops. Rick was doing everything he could, these days, to escape his wife. He'd come up with any odd job that he could concoct—even when there was relatively little to do—to avoid Lori's company. He spent a great deal of time with the animals and crops.

"Sometimes I guess he thinks he does," Daryl said.

"That means you don't think he does?" Merle asked.

Daryl laughed to himself.

"He had a temporary sort of break from himself," Daryl said. "Went on this whole thing of thinkin' he was gonna—rule over us like some kinda king. It was short lived. Needless to say, he can't hardly keep his own life together. He ain't fit to be lordin' over nobody."

"Can't none of us hardly keep our lives together," Merle offered.

"I reckon he thinks he's in charge some odd days," Daryl said. "But the truth of the matter is that we do a lot more by council these days than we do by just followin' what one person says. Most of the decisions made is decisions that we all agree on."

Merle nodded his head.

"I know the people of Woodbury," Merle said. "Whether or not they think I'm a son of a bitch, I'm a familiar son of a bitch. It'd be a good idea to let me do some of the talkin' with 'em."

"I'd agree with that," Daryl said. "They was happy to listen to you when we was tellin' 'em about the loss of the Governor."

"Lettin' me deal with 'em a lil' bit is way on better than lettin' him start throwin' his damn weight around as a stranger," Merle said. "Sittin' down to tell 'em what they will and won't do an' shit."

"I agree with that, too, brother," Daryl said.

"Good," Merle said. "So—how about you make sure he knows about it? Just so we clear."

"You could talk to him yourself, Merle," Daryl pointed out.

Merle laughed to himself.

"Let's just say—I'm still workin' on some things. Not ready to talk to him just yet. Not more'n I absolutely gotta to keep the damned peace in this here penal paradise."

Daryl laughed.

"Yeah," he said. "I get it. Look—if you need to blow of some steam or whatever, I been watchin' Michonne an' it seems like runnin' the length of these fences a hundred or more times a day will set you up for feelin' better. Just an idea—if you feel up to it."

Merle hummed.

"Might," he said. "But she's still got that sword, an' I done stopped wearin' my blade—on account of your kid an' all. So—I'll do my best not to run up on Midnight until she's had a chance to cool down some."