It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden bright light in front of her. She knew they were getting closer to the Quarry, but as she entered the clearing, she realised she didn't know how close.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl exclaimed as he stepped over to their hunt, a deer they had been tracking since the previous morning. "That's my deer! Look at it, all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-baring, motherless poxy bastard!" He began to kick at the dead who had found their deer before them and had made a meal out it.

"Calm down son, that's not helping," Dale piped up, causing Tristan to roll her eyes as she stepped further into the clearing and looked around.

"What do you know about it, old man? Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond?" Daryl was clearly worked up, he always hated losing a kill. Tristan stepped over, pushing herself between the younger Dixon and the elderly man. Daryl stepped away, moving over to the deer and retrieving his arrows. "Been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook up some venison. Do you think we could cut around this chewed up part here?"

"I would not risk that," Shane told him, holding his shotgun behind his neck as he shook his head.

"That's a damn shame," Tristan muttered, moving over to the deer with a heavy sigh.

"Well, I got some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so. That'll have to do," Daryl said, looking around at the men that surrounded them. The deceased's head reanimated from the ground, it's mouth snapping open and closed as it tried to find a meal.

"C'mon people, what the hell?" Daryl scolded, taking aim at the head and shooting a bolt into the eye, killing it for the final time before yanking it free. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?"

He started stalking back to camp, Tristan following closely behind him as she adjusted her string of squirrel over her shoulder.

"Merle!" Daryl called out, walking through the camp and avoiding the obstacles that were placed. "Merle!"

"C'mon Merle! We're having squirrel for dinner!" Tristan called out, a small grin on her lips as she followed the younger Dixon.

"Get your ugly ass out here," Daryl continued, setting down his crossbow as he moved to pull the squirrel string over his head.

"Daryl, Tristan. Just slow up a bit, I need to talk to you," Shane said from behind them, causing them to both turn around as Tristan's fingers slowly wrapped around the knife on her hip.

"About what?" Daryl asked, the confusion in his voice as he glanced over at the tent.

"About Merle."

Those words caused Tristan's heart to stop, her fingers already tightening on her knife as she looked over at the darker haired male.

"There was a... there was a problem in Atlanta," Shane attempted to explain.

Both Daryl and Tristan took a moment to look around, seeing that everyone else from the Atlanta group had returned. Except for Merle.

"He dead?" Daryl asked, cutting straight to the chase as he started to pace around the area.

"We're not sure."

"Well, either he is or he ain't!"

"Look, there's no easy way to say this, so, I'll just say it," a new, unrecognisable voice piped up. Tristan took a moment to glare at the newcomer.

"Who are you?" Tristan snapped, she was getting worked up - which wasn't for the best because so was Daryl, and they both tended to have a temper on them.

"Rick Grimes," the newcomer said softly, his eyes looking over at the brunette female who had been following the younger Dixon around since they returned to camp.

"Rick Grimes," Daryl repeated, his voice mocking as he stepped closer to the newcomer - Rick. "You got something you want to tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so, I handcuffed him on the roof, hooked to a piece of metal. He's still there."

Tristan tightened her jaw as she heard the story, her eyes fixating on the dirt at her feet as Daryl turned away.

"Hold on, let me process this. You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof, and you left him there?" Daryl turned back to Rick, now yelling at him as his anger began to get the better of him.

"Yeah," Rick answered shortly, his eyes drifting for a moment before refocusing on Daryl's body.

Daryl grunted, throwing his squirrel string and lunging at the newcomer. Shane blocked his lunge, pushing him to the ground. At the same time, Tristan and Daryl unsheathed their knifes and went to attack Rick. Rick blocked Daryl's movements and Jim caught Tristan, locking her arms from movement and holding her against his body. She struggled against hold, her eyes watching Daryl. Shane caught Daryl in a headlock, slowly bringing him to the ground in an attempt to calm him down.

"Daryl!" Tristan called out, still fighting against Jim's hold as she tried to get to her friend.

"I'd like to have a calm conversation on this topic," Rick said to Daryl, almost mockingly as he knelt down to the floor. "Do you think we could manage that?" His eyes moved over to Tristan who was still fighting the hold on her. "Do you think we could manage that?" He repeated, this time aimed at her.

Both of them stopped fighting the holds on them, and slowly they were released to the floor. Tristan crawled over to Daryl, his arms instinctively wrapped around her.

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick told them, kneeling down beside them as Daryl checked on Tristan and made sure she was okay. "Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," another voice piped up, their eyes now snapped over to them. T-Dog. "I had the key. I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?"

"Well, I dropped it down a drain," T-Dog explained, and Tristan scoffed, shaking her head as she curled her fingers around Daryl's neck and in his hair.

Slowly the pair got to their feet, Daryl's eyes skimming over Tristan one final time to make sure she was okay before stepped towards T-Dog.

"If it's supposed to make me feel better, it don't," Daryl snapped at the darker skinned male.

"Maybe this will. Look, I chained the door to the roof, so the geeks couldn't get at him, with a padlock."

"It's gotta count for something," Rick told them, causing the female to turn and glare at the newcomer, spitting at his shoes.

"Hell with all y'all!" Daryl said, getting emotional as his anger faded. "Just tell me where he is, so's we can go get him."

"He'll show you," a female voice was now speaking, causing the friends to turn to look at her. Lori's eyes were trained on the newcomer, as they shared a look. "Isn't that right?"

"I'm going back," Rick agreed, looking at the pair.

Daryl had decided he'd had enough, moving around the male to retrieve his crossbow before walking over to Tristan and taking her hand, yanking her back over to the tent.

Tristan had changed her clothes and was packing up a bag of things Merle would need when they got to him. Food, water, even a little bit of a pick-me-up for one of his highs. When she was happy with what she had packed, she stepped out of her tent to be greeted by Lori.

"Don't you dare think about telling Rick about what you saw," the older woman told the younger, in an attempt to intimidate her.

"And what am I not telling Rick, Lori?" She asked softly, an eyebrow raised as she tugged her backpack over her shoulder.

"You know what," Lori replied, her eyes narrowing as her hands sat on her hips.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have been hooking up with your husbands best friend," Tristan told her, nodding her head as she moved to step around the older woman. A hand wrapped around her upper arm, causing her to turn and glare at the woman. "Sorry, did I say something that offended you, slut?"

"Everythin' okay here?" Daryl's voice sounded in Tristan's ears as she turned to look at him, a smile on her lips as she tugged her arm free from the other woman's grasp and walked over to her friend.

"Everything's perfect. Are we ready to go? I need to have a serious word with your brother," she told him, her arm wrapping around his as they walked over to the box truck.

"Almost, they're still packing," he muttered to her as he adjusted his hold on his crossbow as his eyes fell on the group. "What was that back there?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, D," she told him softly, with a smile as she squeezed his arm and climbed into the box truck.

Finally they had reached Atlanta, Tristan's bum was beginning to go numb from where she was sat in the box truck next to Daryl, tucked into his side with his arm around her shoulders as he glared at T-Dog who was sitting opposite them. The female wasn't paying attention to any conversation that was happening around her, just focusing on what she would do when they found Merle. He was in huge trouble for breaking his promise to her, but she also planned to give him a huge hug for the pain he must have gone through in the time he had been handcuffed to the roof in the baking Atlanta sun.

"C'mon, Tris," Daryl muttered to her, gently tugging her up by her hands and moving to jump out of the box truck.

The brunette followed him out, jogging along the train tracks with the rest of the group. Her eyes were trained on Daryl if she wasn't looking around them for any undead, she refused to look at the traitors that had left her friend behind, knowing that it would only work her up.

They reached the department store, Daryl took out the lone walker that was inside before they raced to the roof of the store. T-Dog cut the chain and they ran out onto the roof, Tristan gasping at the sight they found as Daryl began to cry. There, in a pool of blood, was a hand. Merle's hand.

"No, No! No, no, no," Daryl sobbed, shaking his head as he dropped his crossbow, running his hands against his face.

Tristan's step faltered as she looked at the sight that welcomed them, her hand raising to cover her mouth. She knew the man was insane, but she thought he knew that they would come for him. Just like they had her.

"Is Merle okay?" Tristan breathed out, shaking her head as she stared at the hand.

Daryl's mood suddenly changed, and he picked up his crossbow once more before aiming it at T-Dog's head. Rick was quick on the reflex and his python was now aiming at Daryl's.

"No, don't you dare!" Tristan shouted, moving over to them.

"I won't hesitate, I don't care if every walker in the city hears it," Rick told Daryl, causing the younger Dixon to rethink as he slowly lowered his crossbow.

Daryl stepped back slowly, his eyes shifting over to Tristan and he instantly saw how this was affecting her.

"You got a do-rag or something?" He gestured to T-Dog, who handed him a cloth before the young Dixon moved over to the already decaying hand of his brother and wrapped it up. "I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs. Ain't that a bitch," he muttered as he moved over to Glenn, tucking the hand in the Asian's backpack.

"He must have used a tourniquet, maybe his belt... there would be a lot more blood if he didn't," Tristan said softly as she inspected the blood pool.

Daryl had wandered a little further up, noticing a blood trail as he glanced at the ground to where they had found Merle's hand. Tristan notices where he is heading, standing up and following him over as T-Dog went to go retrieve the tools they had promised Dale.

"Merle? You in here?" Daryl called out as they found another stairway, Tristan following him in with Glenn and Rick just behind them.

"C'mon, Merle!" Tristan yelled out, following behind Daryl down the staircase.

They came across an office, and Daryl shot a bolt into the lone walker in there. The rest of them checked that they were clear as Tristan looked around for any sign of Merle.

"Had enough in him to take out these two sumbitches. One handed. Toughest asshole I ever met, my brother. Feed him a hammer, he'd crap out nails," Daryl said, as they found two dead walkers on the ground.

"Any man can pass out from blood loss, no matter how tough he is," Rick told him, which caused Tristan to roll her eyes.

"Merle isn't just anyone. But I bet you just said that to make yourself feel better," Tristan muttered, gesturing with her knife to the officer's wounded side.

The group of five continued on their search for Merle, either Daryl or Tristan yelling out his name as they went further into the office block.

"We're not alone here, remember?" Rick reminded the pair of them, which caused Daryl to click his tongue and Tristan to scoff.

"Screw that! Ya said so yaself, he could be bleeding out," Daryl told Rick, shaking his head.

The group found a kitchen, where a stove was lit and a belt was led on the counter beside it. Merle's belt.

"What's that burnt stuff?" Glenn asked, as Rick inspected something by the stove while Tristan and Daryl looked around for any sign of the elder Dixon.

"Skin, he cauterized the stump," Rick answered, glancing at the young Asian.

"Told ya he was tough, nobody can kill Merle but Merle."

"Don't take that on faith. He's lost a lot of blood," Rick reminded him.

"Only Dixon's can kill Dixon's. And Merle ain't dying now, not because of you," Tristan snapped, a glare being directed to Rick as she watched him from the other side of the room.

"Didn't stop 'im fro busting out of this death trap," Daryl piped up from where he was, by a window. Tristan walked over, glancing out onto the street below as she let out a low sigh.

"He left the building? Why would he do that?" Glenn asked, a concerned yet panicked look on his face.

"Why wouldn't he?" Daryl asked, his eyebrow raised as he shared a look with Tristan.

"He's doing what he does best, surviving. Against the odds, on his own," she mumbled, nodding her head as she glanced back at the group.

"You call that surviving? Just wandering out on the streets, maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?" T-Dog asked.

"No worse than being handcuffed and left ta rot by you sorry pricks," Daryl snapped at the darker skinned male. "Ya couldn't kill him, ain't so worried about some dumb dead bastard."

"What about a thousand dead dumb bastards? Different story?"

Tristan squared her jaw, stepping over to Rick and getting level with him. He copied, his hand resting on his colt python while she gripped her knife.

"We wouldn't be out here if it wasn't for you," she muttered to him, her teeth grinding into each other.

"That may be true-"

"No, it is true. They would have got home safe. All of them. You ruined that. This is on you. If Merle dies, that's on you. And I'll make you suffer, the way you made us suffer."

"C'mon Tris, forget these bastards. We're gonna go get him," Daryl said, his voice soft as his hand cupped around her shoulder while pulling her away from the officer.

"Daryl, Tristan. Wait."

Rick's hand was curled into Daryl's vest as he tried to keep them still.

"Getcha hands off me! And don't even think about touching her. Ya can't stop us."

"I don't blame you, he's family. I get that. I went through hell to find mine. I know exactly how you feel, he can't get far with that injury. We could help you check a few blocks around but only if we keep a level head," Rick said, directly his last sentence to the female brunette who was currently cuddled into Daryl's side.

"We can do that," Daryl muttered sharply, his fingers rubbing Tristan's shoulder.

"Only if we get those guns first," T-Dog piped in, stepping over with a slight shrug. "I'm not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?"

Tristan rolled her eyes before shrugging her shoulders, and together they started to work out a plan for them to safely get the guns.