"You did WHAT?" Merle slammed his palms down onto Daryl's desk, disrupting every single paper he'd been filing through.

Daryl swallowed and continued to try to shuffle through the papers. "You heard me."

He'd thought, when he told Merle about Beth, it'd be easier to say something casually. His brother had sat down across from Daryl and started talking away, and when he gave Daryl the few moments he got every ten minutes to say something back, he told Merle the blonde was moving in with him; then, almost immediately changed the subject. Merle, surprisingly, caught on to it and had given Daryl a look. In his mind, Daryl had imagined he'd either receive an undeserved (or rather, misinterpreted) slap on the back or an over sexualized comment from the idiot. However, it was then that Merle decided to try to be the big brother.

"This, this is how you actually get arrested."

Ok, maybe there was no easy to tell his brother about the Beth coming to live with him. He was just helping her out in the only way he knew how. But it wasn't like they were together, in any way, shape or form. That would be out of the question.

In all honesty, it was safe to say that Daryl had never been in a relationship, let alone lived with a woman. He wasn't sure what he was getting himself into or how one even dealt with a woman's crazy on a regular basis. Any knowledge he had was very limited, and more on the physical side of things.

Of course, he'd been with women; by his age, it was half expected of him to have been with at least one or more women. In his brother's book, it was supposed to be or more. So, on the nights he still walked to the beat of Merle's drum, he proved himself. There were times he was dragged back to some dingy apartment, and in the dark he'd feel flesh against flesh; which left a lingering scent of sweat and perfume. But, there was always a disconnect. It was passion fuelled by alcohol and the goading of his brother, nothing more. It wasn't as though it were to ever be like that with Beth...as always, their agreement was strictly business.

On paper, it seemed like a good idea. She'd have enough money by the time the engine came, and then she'd be home. She got paid a fair wage by Carol and wasn't stupidly giving it away anymore and cleaned up the house in return for the room; which he assumed she's use as much as Merle. As far as he could tell, she hardly ever left the damn diner.

Which, he guessed, was supposed to be a plus. They practically had opposite schedules, and once the engine came in he'd be working as hard as he could go get her on the road again, as promised. They would be like two passing ships in the night. Hell, aside from the cleanliness, he probably wouldn't even know she was there.

"Look, I don't know what in hell's name gave you this saviour complex..." Merle started in again before Daryl got a chance to respond. "But you need to get the fuck over it. That lady and her kid...Blondie...they ain't your problem."

God, Merle knew exactly how to poke a bear in all the right places. "You sure and shit wouldn't know. Being in and out of jail for most of your life. Leaching off the system instead of getting your shit together."

"Oh, this again?" Merle's face scrunched up and got all red as he clenched his fists. "You really wanna start this again, Darylina?"

Daryl knew Merle wouldn't actually hit him, they gotten their punches in on each other a long time ago. However, Merle's favourite thing was to cause a scene. He expected Merle would just bang up the desk a bit or throw a lamp across the room, but he really wasn't in the damn mood.

"Look." Daryl stood up, face to face with Merle. "I ain't gonna get arrested, she's eighteen. Not that it even matters because I ain't interested."

"Well, don't be expecting me to have money to get you out, when you get locked up. You're gonna be on your own then."

"I'm used to it." Daryl scoffed before he turned and walked away. He refused to turn back around even when he heard the first big crash of Merle's hissy fit.

If they were both being honest, they both knew exactly what gave Daryl his, so called, saviour complex; and it was the same thing that made Merle the drug abusing mess he was. It would always start and end with daddy dearest: Will Dixon. He was the one that gave the brothers their tempers; he was the one with the devil behind his eyes and a belt in his hands.

Every single memory Daryl had of their father was a carbon copy. There was nothing Will Dixon loved more than drinking and smoking and being a mean son of a bitch. He especially liked to hit things, and the boys' mother happened to be his favourite punching bag for a long time; that is, until Merle got big enough and got mouthy. Daryl avoided it all until Merle's first stent in juvie. But it couldn't be avoided forever; and neither could the tiny wails of pain from his mother's lips.

Maybe he was too hard on his brother. But, Merle didn't know the first thing about him until Daryl was well into his twenties. He'd faced a lot of the same stuff Daryl had with Will, but different wounds were always left on different people. Like the wound of his mothers ashy, utterly broken voice and the smell of smoke burning down the only thing he'd ever tried to call home. Or, the wound of only seeing your brother again after ten years at your old man's funeral - just so he could spit on his grave.

Everyone that was supposed to be there for him disappeared over and over again. His mother, she never really left, but she was never fully there; she had no light behind her black and blue eyes. She couldn't protect herself, let alone Daryl. Merle fought for a while, then worried about nothing but his next bag and avoiding their so called family when it got too much. It was always left to Daryl to feed the pain so that they didn't have to.

There was a lot of things Daryl would never understand in the world, but pain was one he'd always know the ins and outs to. He saw it in Carol and her daughter, Sophia, the moment they were dragged into town by her – now ex – husband. Then, when he actually opened his eyes, he saw it again in Beth, in almost every breath she breathed. How could he not help?

"Where the fuck are you going!?" Merle called after him, followed by another crash.

"To the damn diner and to the damn bar." Daryl finally turned around. "Where someone damn well isn't whining for no damn reason."

Damn.