'There ain't nothing out here bu' mosquitoes an' ants.' Daryl growled, stalking along behind his brother.

'Patience, little brother.' Merle told him, 'Sooner or later, a squirrel is bound to scurry across your path.'

'Even so, that ain't much food.' Daryl grunted.

'More than nothing.' Merle said.

'I'd 'ave better luck goin' through one o' them houses we passed back on th' turnoff.' Daryl said, kicking a log out of his way.

'Is that what your new friends taught you? Hmm? How to loot for booty?' Merle said, rounding on him.

'We've been at it for hours.' Daryl said darkly. 'Why don't we find a stream, try to look f'some fish?'

'I think you're just trying to lead me back to the road, man.' Merle said, looking his brother up and down, 'Get me over to that prison.'

'They got shelter.' Daryl shrugged. 'Food. A pot t' piss in. Might not be a bad idea.'

'For you, maybe.' Merle said bitterly, 'Ain't gonna be no damn party for me.'

'Everyone will get used t' each other.' Daryl insisted.

'They're all dead. Makes no difference.' Merle shrugged.

'How can you be so sure?'

'Right about now he's probably hosting a housewarming party where's he gonna bury what's left of your pals.' Merle said, walking away from his brother. 'Let's hook some fish. Come on.'

'Right.'

Daryl carried on behind his brother, his boots crunching over the fallen. His head hurt. He couldn't have left his brother, he just couldn't. It had always been them, the two of them against the world, the way it had been when this all kicked off. It should have stayed that way, he should have never given up looking for him. But even as he thought it, he felt uneasy.

'My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison.' Glen had told him.

'And you're part of that family.' Rick had implored.

Was he? He scowled as he walked along. He didn't remember ever feeling so conflicted.

'What do you want us to tell Carol?' Glen had asked.

'She'll understand.' Daryl had said.

He was sure she would, too. She knew him better than anyone else at that prison, and if he had to leave, she would accept that. She was a smart woman, and Daryl respected her. But it was Beth he was thinking of as he followed Merle. She wouldn't understand, she was too young, too naïve. And he had promised her he would bring Maggie back himself. Well, Maggie had gotten back safe and sound – he assumed – so his job was done. So long as Beth had her sister, she wouldn't care Daryl had taken off. Would she?

Of course not you idiot his mind told him.

They had spent some time together recently, had opened up to one another a little, but it was nothing substantial. Yet he cared about her, he knew he did, the niggling guilt which was slowly growing the further away from the prison he walked told him that.

'Hmm smells to me like the Sawhatchee Creek.' Merle said, breaking through Daryl's thoughts.

'We didn't go west enough.' He said. 'There's a river down there, it's got to be the Yellow Jacket.'

'You have a stroke, boy? We ain't never even come close to Yellow Jacket.' Merle spat.

'We didn't go west. Just a little bit south. That's what I think.' Daryl said sourly.

'Know what I think? I may have lost my hand, but you lost your sense of direction.' Merle growled.

'Yeah, we'll see.' Daryl said.

'What do you want to bet?' Merle grinned back at him.

'I don't want to bet nothing,' Daryl shrugged, 'It's just a body of water. Why's everything got to be a competition with you?'

'Whoa, whoa. Take it easy, little brother' Merle said, shaking his head. 'Just trying to have a little fun here. No need to get your panties all in a bundle.'

'You hear that?' Daryl said, stopping where he was and cutting off Merle.

'Yeah, wild animals getting wild.' Merle said with glee.

'No, it's a baby.' Daryl grunted.

'Oh, come on.' Merle sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, 'Why don't you just piss in my ear and tell me it's raining, too? That there's the sound of a couple of coons making love, sweet love. Know what I mean?' He looked pointedly at Daryl, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl hurried through the underbrush towards the sound, his brother reluctantly following. As he emerged from the tree line he saw a car surrounded by both walkers and humans, two men were trying to fight them off. Daryl could see two walkers desperately trying to get into the passenger side where a woman was holding a baby to her chest, sobbing.

'Hey, man, I ain't wasting my bullets on a couple of strangers that ain't never cooked me a meal or felicitated my piece.' Merle said from behind Daryl. 'That's my policy. You'd be wise to adopt it, brother.'

Daryl opted to ignore him, heading out to the scene, raising his crossbow to his face. He shot two walkers dead, plunging a bolt into another ones head by hand. Merle hung back, watching. A walker had crawled its way into the back of the car, through the boot, and was reaching forward to the mother and baby in the car. Daryl paused for a moment, assessing the situation; walkers were closing in on them.

'Daryl! I got ya! Go!' Merle called to him, firing his gun straight into the head of the closest walker.

Daryl ran around to the back of the car, grabbing the back of the walker and yanking it backwards with force, until its head lay on the boot. He then forcefully slammed the boot door down onto its head, a mixture of repulsion and satisfaction overcoming him and the head caved in on itself, the blood and brains splattering everywhere.

Daryl ran to help the man struggling beside the bridge with the last walker. Daryl plunged his knife into the head, then kicked it over the edge of the bridge, looking over as it fell down into the stream below.

He stood back and took a deep breath, looking at the man beside him. He nodded, then moved back into the road.

'If you touch my wife, I kill you.'

'Speak English.' Merle spat. He was standing by the car door, his gun raised. 'Slow down, beaner.' He said venomously. 'That ain't no way to say thank you.'

'We don't have anything,' the man said, looking desperately at Daryl's brother.

'They wanna take the car? The tank is empty.' The other man said.

'Let 'em go.' Daryl growled from the other side of the car, glaring across at his brother.

'The least they can do is give us an enchilada or something, huh?' Merle said, his small eyes looking dangerously across at the man, before slowly opening the back door to the car, 'Easy does it, senorita.
Everything's gonna be fine.'

Daryl slowly walked around the back of the car, towards his brother. He kept his eyes on the two Spanish men who were loitering before the car, nervously looking at Merle and his wife in the car. Daryl stood back for a while, watching the men, reading the fear in their eyes. He stepped around to Merle, pulling up his crossbow.

'Get out of the car.' He said quietly.

'I know you're not talking to me, brother.' Merle growled slowly from inside the car.

'Get in your car an' get the hell out'a here.' Daryl said to the men, 'Go! Get in your car! Go!'

Daryl kept his crossbow trained on his brother, glaring him down from behind it. Merle stood there, looking at him, his eyes glaring into him, his hands raised. Eventually he patted it away, and Daryl let him, before turning away and stalking off.

Once they were back in the shade of the forest, Merle rounded on him.

'The shit you doing, pointing that thing at me?' He growled.

'They were scared, man.' Daryl sighed, walking ahead of him.

'They were rude is what they were,' Merle said 'Rude and they owed us a token of gratitude.'

'They didn' owe us nothin'.' Daryl sighed again.

'You helping people out of the goodness of your heart? Even though you might die doing it? - Is that something your Sheriff Rick taught you?' Merle growled.

'There was a baby!' Daryl snapped, turning around and advancing on his brother.

'Oh, otherwise you would have just left them to the biters, then?' Merle asked in mock surprise.

'Man, I went back for you.' Daryl snapped, swinging his crossbow down around his shins in anger. 'You weren't there. I didn' cut off your hand, neither. You did tha'. Way before they locked you up on that roof.
You asked for it.'

'You know- you know what's funny to me?' Merle growled, grinning menacingly at Daryl. It was the grin of a mad mad, a caged animal backed into a corner, about to get vicious. 'You and Sheriff Rick are like this now. Right?' He raised his remaining hand and twisted his two fingers together n front of Daryl's face. 'I bet you a penny and a fiddle of gold that you never told him that we were planning on robbing that camp blind.'

'It didn't happen.' Daryl said.

'Yeah, it didn't 'cause I wasn't there to help you.' Merle spat.

'What, like when we were kids, huh? Who left who then?' Daryl growled, advancing.

'What?' Merle growled.'Huh? Is that why I lost my hand?'

'You lost your hand 'cause you're a simpleminded piece of shit.' Daryl snapped, jabbing his finger into his brother's chest.

'Yeah!?' Merle yelled, aggressively grabbing his younger brother's backpack, causing him to fall to the floor. The knife attached to the end of the metal glove of his amputated hand tore through the back of his shirt, revealing the multitude of long, deep scars which covered his back. Merle stepped back, backing off.

'I- I didn't know he was-' Merle stammered.

'Yeah, he did-' Daryl said, picking himself up, 'He did the same to you. That's why y'left first.'

'I had to, man. I would have killed him otherwise.' Merle said.

Daryl pulled himself together, gathering his things and standing up.

'Where you going?' Merle spat after him.

'Back where I belong.' Daryl spat back.

'I can't go with you.' Merle said, almost sounding desperate. 'I tried to kill that black bitch. Damn near killed the Chinese kid.'

'He's Korean.' Daryl sighed.

'Whatever.' Merle said, looking desperately at his brother, 'Doesn't matter, man. I just can't go with you.' He shook his head, his face pleading.

'You know, I may be the one walking away but you're the one that's leaving' Daryl said, turning away from him 'again.'

Daryl stormed off, making his way through the bushes and tress surrounding him, fed up. He should have never left the prison, he knew that now. The loyalties to his brother were still strong, but things had changed since they had been separated. He belonged back in that prison.

. . .

Daryl stalked through the underbrush, his crossbow over his shoulder, keeping his eyes alert. He could hear Merle walking behind him, but he appreciated the silence he kept up.

Suddenly, the sound of gunshots echoed over the forest, causing the birds to fly from the trees above.

He stopped, looking back at Merle, who looked back at him. In that moment they seemed to come to an understanding, then both broke into a run.

The gunfire continued as they ran, shoving branches out of their way, jumping across the rocks and fallen logs. Before they had made it back to the prison, all went quiet. Some how that made Daryl feel worse, the silence. All sorts of thoughts raced through his mind.

Eventually he broke through, coming out to the prison. To his dismay, the place was overrun with walkers. Searching the grounds furiously, he saw Rick struggling just a little off, two walkers closing in on him. He ran over, training his crossbow on the back of the walker's head. He fired, hitting his target, and the walker fell from Rick's face. Rick saw Daryl, who looked back at him intently. Rick nodded, before turning to see Merle. Merle chuckled, looking from Rick to Daryl.

Daryl swallowed.