New Meanings To Old Words: Love

So believe it or not…I had trouble with this one. I could have sat and edited this forever and probably still not have been completely happy with what I got on the page. I mean honestly, how do you rewrite perfection? SO with that in mind I know that a lot of you are going to recognize the dialogue here, because it was just so well done that I felt a need to preserve a good bit of it. But as usual, I've added a few of my own twists and turns and fun to the awesomeness.

As always read, review and most of all enjoy !

~michelle

Disclaimer: I own nothing, except Callie and the crew of misfits (Danny, Miles, Jenna, Mike, Nina, Ben and Gracie).

River Styx

Will you lay me down; Will you lay me down,

Will you lay me down inside heaven's walls,

Where every soul is a setting sun

He'd passed out. Again.

Had to have. Because she was there now. Her hands slipping over his face, her breath tickling at his neck as her lips slipped from his jaw down to his neck. Sweet little kisses pressed to his pulse point as she slowly worked her way back up to his ear. He couldn't see her, 'cause it was dark in the confines of his head, none of that light of the bright shinin' day that he knew he was layin' in-that he could fuckin' feel on his body-

Or was that her body? The heat of her pressed up to him as her lips slipped over his ear where the blood had stained the side of his head.

I'm bleedin'. Don't.

He hadn't said the words, but he felt her chuckle against him in response to them as if he had. Heard that laugh, her laugh, the one that he couldn't get enough of, echo in his ears and push away some of that rush of blood that was drowning out the sounds around him. Her lips continued on their heated path along his blood soaked skin, her hot breath blowin' in his ear. He swore he heard her say "I don't care," and he felt himself shakin' his head idly at her.

Course she didn't.

He wanted to say her name, but couldn't get his mouth to work it out. His attempt was stopped cold as her breath again puffed in his ear and he just fell into the wonder of her softness settled around him. Her body lay over his, the warming presence so comforting and so-God he didn't even have the fuckin' words for it. Those hands, the ones that had touched every part of his scarred body more than once and never faltered, continued into his hair. Slender, delicate fingers slipping along his scalp a bit, as her voice continued to echo low in his ear. "I don't care," she said again and this time there were more words that following it.

Three words mumbled so low that he wasn't positive she said them at all.

Wasn't sure if she'd said 'em, or if he'd just been hopin' for so long to hear 'em from her-He strained against the pressure building in his head, against the rush of blood in his ears. He wanted to hear those words. Wanted to hear them in her voice. In his ear.

Wanted it so bad he could fuckin' taste it.

Her fingers slipped further into his hair, pulling his heavy head up from the ground-that ground that felt like a million pointy rocks settled at the back of his head and shoulders. He felt his brow furrow at that, the delicate sensation of her hands slipping into his hair changing to a more forceful sort of yank.

Pain.

Excruciating and deep pain exploded behind his eyes as her fingers dug into his head hard and pulled him up a bit. His eyes shot open, bright blinding sunlight haloing the head of the Walker as it leaned down. Mouth open wide, decaying teeth and putrid breath spilling out over him as it moved in for a bite.

His arm was moving, grabbing the knife that had been pokin' him in the side. He pulled it off his belt, sheathe and all and rammed it into the head of the Walker. He watched as that spark in its dead eyes, that fuckin' spark that Jenner had showed them on that big screen in the CDC, went out.

Daryl howled in pain, his body protesting the movements it had just made. His world swam around and pitched over, and his heavy head fell hard back down to that jagged bed of rocks he was laying on. His eyes closed and again everything began to ebb away.

But in the background there was a sound, a sound that was so familiar it had his head turning in an effort to find him. The chuckle, Merle's fuckin' chuckle, rolled over him like a comforting blanket as his consciousness drifted away again.

"Fuckin' pussy," Merle's voice slipped out, that raspy voice from too many hard nights and way too many cigarettes, floating out and touching on Daryl's mind just before it slipped off. "Layin' there havin' a fuckin' wet dream while some sum'bitch is tryin' to take a bite outta your ass. What I tell you 'bout thinking with that fuckin' head below your belt, dumbass?" Merle smacked the side of his head in an effort to get the point across sending another wave of pain through him and pushing Daryl further towards that bit of darkness waiting for him. "Huh, boy? What I say to you every fuckin' day? That shit's gonna get you killed, little brother."

That low rumbling chuckle followed him into the dark abyss of unconsciousness again, and settled in for the long haul.

Will you take my hand; Will you take my hand

Will you take my hand down to the water's edge

Where every sin has been washed away

"Here pussy, pussy," Merle's rasping voice called out on the edge of Daryl's consciousness. The sound of it had Daryl's head again rolling from side to side, that shadowy shape bobbing back into view as his eyes slowly opened. "Here pussy, pussy. Wakey, wakey," Merle's chuckled, and that fuckin' chuckle ebbed along Daryl's senses and had him blinking a few times to try and clear the black blob that was makin' up his brother. The blob moved in time with Daryl's head as it rolled, workin' to get itself right into his line of sight. Workin' to take its place as the only thing he could see. Merle's smirkin' face finally came into view, sharp and focused and fuckin' close as hell. Daryl tried to pull back a bit but his head was already as pushed up into the ground as it was gonna get. Merle smirked a bit more and leaned closer. "What's this then? You takin' a siesta?"

Daryl's tongue worked in his mouth, again tryin' to scrounge up a bit of saliva so that he could respond. Because he needed to. Needed to talk to his brother.

"Shitty day, bro," he heard his voice and his face contorted at the sound of it. He didn't sound like himself. He coughed, the dryness of his throat fighting against his using his voice at all. Again his head was lolling around on the ground.

"Aww," Merle said mockingly his eyes slipping over Daryl's prone form as he squatted down. "Ya need me to get you a pillow?" Merle said sneering as Daryl shook his head slowly. "Maybe rub your feet?"

"Screw you, fucker," Daryl said back, a bit of a chuckle riding his voice. He couldn't help it. Merle was good for that shit.

"From what I see, you're the fucker that's screwed, baby brother." Merle said back, his lips tiltin' in a sneer as he shot his gaze down Daryl's body and then back up to his face. "All them years spent tryin' to make a man of you, and this is what I get." Merle shook his head and leaned back a bit settling his hands on his knees. "Look at ya," Merle waved his hand at Daryl, and Daryl's eyes followed it almost in a trance. "Lyin' in the dirt like a used rubber. Fuck. You gonna die out here, bro. And for what?"

"Girl," the muscles in Daryl's neck constricted and pulled, that single word burning through the dry confines of his throat and mouth. "Sophia. She's lost."

"So-phi-a," Merle stretched the name, rolled it in his mouth sarcastically and smirked down at Daryl. "Sophia." He let out a huff at that and shook his head. "You got a thing for little girls now? Hmm?" Merle poked at him and Daryl's head rolled side to side again. "Always wondered what the fuckin' appeal of that woman and her babies was."

"Shut up," Daryl spat tiredly, the mention of 'that woman' sparking some kind of new movement in his body. He worked to get his head off the ground only to be floored again by the searing pain behind his eyes.

"Can't help but notice ya ain't lookin' for ol' Merle no more," Merle said, his voice takin' on that tone that told Daryl that nothing good was coming for him. Daryl snarled a bit, watching Merle stare at the dirty nails on his hand. His right hand. Daryl squinted and tried to focus more sharply on the hazy figure of his brother, but couldn't seem to get it any clearer than it was. "Moved the fuck on from that, didn't ya?"

"Tried like hell to find you, brother." Daryl said quietly, his brows lifting as he nodded his head just a bit. Raking the back of his head along that jagged bed of rocks he was layin' on. Daryl half-heard Merle's response of 'Like hell', but he was too busy nodding and workin' at what he wanted to say to let it register. He'd been wantin' to say this to that man since he found that fuckin' hand of his on that roof. And now that he had him, Daryl was gonna make him listen. "Did you really think I wouldn't come for you? Did you?" Daryl took a breath and blinked a few times. "All you had to do was wait. We went back for you. Callie, Rick and I." He nodded his head more fervently now and watched Merle just stare at him blankly. "We did right by you. Callie almost died-"

"Yeah," Merle's voice was a deep rasping guttural growl as it fell onto Daryl's ears. It had Daryl's eyes popping a bit more open and his head again rolling and following the moving figure of his brother as he shifted in his crouched position. Merle's face was close now, his eyes boring holes into Daryl's as he spoke and the smell of his putrid breath had Daryl's eyes watering. "Yeah, Callie almost died for me." The sound of her name in Merle's voice was odd; Daryl hadn't ever heard him say it before. "She almost died," Merle let out a scoffing sort of sound and Daryl stared hard at his face as it wavered in his vision slightly. "While you and Rick, that fuck that handcuffed me to the roof in the first place, sat pretty with them fuckin' Mexican bangers and that nigger, holdin' hands and hidin'." Daryl frowned at that and tried to shake his head. Merle backed off and let his hard gaze rake down Daryl again. "Look at ya," Merle said tossing out his hand before slamming it into Daryl's hip. The hit pressed that gold badge pinned to his pants hard into his bone and muscle and had Daryl slammin' his head back in pain. "You his bitch now? Hmm? Deputy Daryl." Merle sneered pressing that badge hard into Daryl's leg. "That what this is?"

"Ain't nobody's bitch," Daryl said angrily his eyes staring hard into his brother's as he tried to move away from the pain he was inflicting. Merle pressed one more time against that badge, twisting his hand this way and that so that it dug deep down into Daryl's flesh.

"You're a joke, boy, s'what you are. Playin' errand boy to a bunch a pansies and bitches that ain't fit to survive this shit world we livin' in." Merle moved a bit away, his hand falling from its painful presence at Daryl's hip. "Playin' daddy to a buncha babies that ain't yours. Playin' house with a woman who wouldna given your ass time of day 'fore all this shit happened." Merle leaned close and whispered his next words. "She's usin' ya, bro. They all are. They're laughin' at ya behind your back. Callie and Rick," Merle scoffed again his head shakin' this way and that, the bitterness in his voice obviously leavin' a foul taste in his mouth. "One of these days, they gonna wake up and remember that you ain't nothin' but useless redneck white trash. One of these days-"

"Ain't like that," Daryl heard himself sayin' as his head rolled side to side. "Ain't-"

"Fuck boy," Merle said slappin' at him and makin' those bright specs flare to life and that blackness edging round his vision to close in just a bit more. "Wake the fuck up. They ain't your kin." Merle said quietly and forcefully, his hand reaching out and grippin' Daryl's jaw to stop his head from makin' that rollin' negative motion it seemed to be stuck in. "No matter how much you want 'em to be. They ain't. So you do me a favor." Merle gripped tighter into Daryl's jaw and leaned in close. "You wake up and you do your real kin, your only kin a favor." Merle paused makin' sure his eyes were glued to Daryl's as he spoke the next words. "You go back, an' you shoot your friend Rick in the face for ol' Merle."

"No man, ain't like that," Daryl was shakin' his head, magically freed it of Merle's grasp and for a second felt a wave of somethin' crawl over his skin. Some horrid sensation that he needed to wake up; hear what Merle was sayin' and wake up. But he couldn't, 'cause Merle was still talkin', grabbin' his face and pullin' his attention back to him.

"You listen, boy," Merle said real low and Daryl recognized that tone and opened his eyes a bit more. "Ain't no one gonna care 'bout you but me. No one. That woman, you think she loves you cares 'bout you? Why can't she say it, huh?" Merle slapped him when he was 'bout to respond and Daryl groaned. "Ain't no one gonna love you, or care 'bout you but me, little brother."

Daryl closed his eyes and shook his head. No. She couldn't say it 'cause he couldn't say it. They were both too damn smart to let that sorta shit happen. Too damn smart, and too damn shut off. 'Specially now, durin' a fuckin' apocalypse. She cared 'bout him. She did.

"Don't you close your eyes and ignore me, boy," Merle slapped at him and stood up. "Don't you ignore me. You brought me here." Merle's voice had Daryl's head shaking again and his eyes slipping open and shut, tryin' desperately to blink back into true awareness. "You brought ol' Merle here in your fuckin' time of need, little brother. Not Callie. Not Rick. You brought ol' Merle, 'cause you know. You know ain't no one gonna get your ass through this fucked up existence we livin' in but ol' Merle." Merle was standing now, staring down at Daryl and kickin' at him. "You know that ain't no one got your back but me. Whether you wanna admit it or not, you know it. You brought ol' Merle here to wake your ass up." Merle kicked at him a bit harder and Daryl felt his body shift with it painfully. "Now wake up." Merle bent down and grabbed at his leg shakin' him hard. "Wake the fuck up boy, 'fore I have to kick your teeth in."

Merle shook him again, his hardened gaze settled hard on Daryl as he did it. Daryl's vision went black again, but he realized slowly that it wasn't unconsciousness that had taken over, he'd just closed his eyes. Closed out Merle. But he could still feel the fucker, yankin' and grabbin' at his foot and leg. Rockin' Daryl's body along that jagged ground roughly. He could hear him too, breathin'-

No, he wasn't breathin', he was growlin'.

Groanin'. Moanin'. Low guttural moans that registered and clicked in that fog of Daryl's concussed head and had his eyes finally popping open.

Really fuckin' poppin' open this time. The bright sunlight overhead that had been warming his body as he lay there unconscious, fuckin' jawin' with his imaginary brother, blinded him for only a moment. Then he registered the weight settled on his chest, the smell of decay filled his nostrils reminding him of how horrid Merle's breath had smelt when he got close and spoke right into Daryl's face.

The body of the Walker, the one he'd half-convinced himself was a part of some weird ass dream, lay over him. His knife, still sheathed, was sticking outta the fucker's head. He lifted his head a bit, seething in a long breath through his clenched teeth and looked down the length of him as his leg gave another violent jolt. Something was at his foot. Something was grabbing at his foot and he felt a distinct sort of pressure along the steel toe of his boots.

The Walker's head lifted then, apparently sensing his movement and smelling the fresh blood that was still gushin' from that wound in the side of his head. Idly he realized that the only reason that the fucker wasn't gnawin' at the fresh cut meat of his midsection was because the dead Walker layin' on top of him had buffered the smell.

The Walker at his feet finally let go of his boot, and hissed wildly at him. Daryl's eyes went wide and adrenaline fueled his movements and sparked him into full awareness. He pushed wildly at the body on top of him, grateful in a sick sort of way that it was only the upper half of a man and not a full bodied Walker. The Walker rolled and he grabbed at the knife still sticking out of its head, using the momentum of its fall to unsheathe the weapon. The other Walker that had been tryin' to get through his boots lunged and fell on top of him. Daryl swung his fist connecting with its disintegrating jaw and used his legs to push the Walker onto its back .

Moving in a way that Daryl didn't think he could in his fuckin' condition, lettin' those waves of adrenaline move his body in a quick and precise motion, he mounted that fuckin' Walker and drove his knife into its face. Twisting his hand he felt the gore and puss settle over his fingers as the thing went dead beneath him.

Another growlin' hissin' sound had his wide, finally fully open, eyes shifting across the water. Another two fuckin' Walkers were makin' their way towards him. Daryl fell back onto his ass, crab crawling towards the ridge as his breath left him in fear-fueled pants.

"Over here," Merle's sing-song voice entered his brain and Daryl's eyes went wide. His head turned and he saw the weapon, settled right at the feet of his imaginary fuckin' brother. He looked up at Merle and the fucker smiled down on him. "But what ya gonna use to shoot him with, eh, Deputy Daryl."

Daryl's hand went to his side, feelin' the arrow piercing his side. It took one second, exactly one, to make the decision. And three and a half torturous seconds to pull the thing through his body. He cringed and sucked in a harsh breath as he felt the feathered ends tearing into his body and through that already sore and pierced oblique. His brain didn't register the pain though, all he registered was how fuckin' close those geeks were gettin'.

Settling the crossbow between his feet he pulled hard to get the thing set. His hands were shakin' with the amount of adrenaline pouring and poundin' through his battered body. His vision was sharp, focused, and intent when he looked up after placing that bolt into place. He took stock of the situation, figured which shambling fuck he needed to line up and fired. The bolt sliced through the geek in front and sent it sprawling into the water, right in the path of the second.

Daryl used the moment of disorientation to his advantage and shoved hard to his feet. Swinging his crossbow 'round in his hands he lifted it up high and smashed the butt end of it into that second geek's face. The resounding whoosh of air that left Daryl's lungs mixed in with the sound of that geek's head snappin' to the side. Daryl went down with the fucker and smashed his crossbow twice more into its face, obliterating that bastard's head until all that was left was soft squishin' insides spattered over that rocky edge he'd been layin' on.

"That's my fuckin' boy!" Merle's voice rang out and Daryl fell to his hands and knees over the now dead Walker. The rush of adrenaline began to ebb, and Daryl watched the world tilt and spin around him. He tried not to, he really fuckin' did, but he tipped to the side and rolled back onto his back.

His eyes again closing tight against that bright fuckin' sunlight overhead. Daryl lifted his right hand and dragged it over his body to where his side had been torn to fuck by the pull of that bolt. Coughing out against the horror that was his dry fuckin' throat he tossed his head to the side and squinted up at the sun. Sun that was immediately blocked out by the now distinct shape of his brother as he sneered down at him.

"Pussy," Merle rasped out, his foot shooting out and kicking Daryl right in his bleedin' side. Daryl groaned at the impact and pain that shot through the entire left side of his body and let his eyes close again.

But I can't run if I can't walk,

And I won't love if I can't stop,

Every minute the pressure drops

From your first breath 'til your heart stops

Birds were chirppin' when Daryl woke again, this time his head feelin' less like a dead weight. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted at the light, but it didn't blind him. The birds were chirppin' and the wind was rustlin' and the smell, fuck that smell was waftin' into his nostrils and wakin' him up the rest of the way.

Daryl lifted his head and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the dead Walkers layin' on the ground next to him. Letting his head fall back to the ground he took in three deep fuckin' breaths and used his right hand to push himself up, while his left remained plastered to his bleeding side.

Blinking past the pain in his head and thinking twice before shakin' his head against it, he lifted his left arm and tested his mobility a bit. The pain seared through him, and he winced but pushed past it. Grabbing his crossbow he pushed at the ground and got his knees under him.

That's when he heard it, the strange whistling noise that wasn't birds chirppin'. Not unless they was some fuckin' trained pet birds that knew The Hag. His eyes skipped up and sure enough there was Merle sittin' his ass on a fallen tree, cleanin' his dirty nails with his knife. Both hands sittin' in the sun as he whistled that same fuckin' tune he'd been whistlin' the day they left the trailer behind and hit the road away from home when this shit-storm all began.

That same fuckin' tune he always whistled.

The one he knew Daryl fuckin' hated.

Daryl snarled as he got to his feet, staring hard at the imaginary man settled upon that fallen tree. He knew it had to have something to do with the multiple fuckin' hits he took to the head the two times he tumbled down that fuckin' ridge. Knew that it wasn't really Merle sittin' there. Knew it, yet it didn't stop him from talkin' to him.

'Cause it was Merle.

And he wanted to talk to Merle again.

"Hate that song," Daryl said idly to the imaginary man settled upon the log. Merle didn't respond, merely started whistling louder. Daryl turned as he grabbed his knife from the ground and watched Merle smile widely at him as he continued to clean his nails and whistle. Daryl turned away from him and shuffled his ass over towards the ridge.

"I'd like to hold my head up," Merle sang in a low and rumbling voice, his eyes following Daryl as he sat upon the rocks and worked to unbutton his shirt. "An' be proud of who I am." Daryl was snarling as he slid his shirt off, the movements hurting more than he'd care to admit. He glared over at Merle as he balled up his dirty shirt and pressed it into his wound. Merle stopped singing after that last line and resumed his oddly melodic whistling of the song.

"Why don't you fuckin' go away?" Daryl seethed as he slipped the shirt under his tied sleeves around his midsection. He untied the sleeves and then tied them again tight around the ball of fabric at his suckin' in a harsh breath through his teeth. His breath left him in a hiss when he lowered his arms again and he looked up and over at the now quiet Merle sitting on the rock, just fuckin' smilin' at him.

"You're the one thinkin' 'bout me, little brother." Merle said lowering his knife and putting his hands to his knees where he sat. That smile on his face was gettin' bigger and Daryl couldn't help but sneer at him. "Make me."

"Fuckin' asshole," Daryl huffed out as he pushed to his feet. He looked down at his wounded side, marveling at how much better it actually felt and he shook his head. "Fucker was right."

"Like there was a doubt," Merle's voice sounded this time from right beside him. "Ol' Merle ain't never steered you wrong 'fore. Wouldn't do it now, bro."

"Get the fuck outta here," Daryl said quietly as he swatted at the imaginary man near him and forced himself to turn towards the geeks on the ground.

"Time to man up, brother." Merle said as Daryl stared at those Walkers. The fuckin' sum'bitches that almost got him. He stared hard at 'em. "Time to get back to your roots, boy. Remember where you came from. Ain't no one gonna come help your ass outta here. Ain't no one gonna come searchin' for you." Merle pushed into Daryl's shoulder, rocketing his world into a spin and causing Daryl to slip a bit in his footing. "Need nourishment, idiot. Lost too much blood. C'mon. Think, boy." Merle flicked the wounded side of his head and Daryl's vision sparked.

Swattin' his arms around like a fuckin' fool at the man that wasn't there, Daryl stumbled towards the banks. He'd caught some squirrel. He remembered doin' it, just didn't know where the fuck it was. It took a bit, but he found the string of carcasses settled in the water.

Daryl moved his eyes around the area as he stabbed into the gut of the squirrel and cut it open. Merle was gone. Disappeared in the sun like some fuckin' bad dream. Daryl plunged his fingers into the squirrel's belly and pulled out some offal. He didn't think twice before shoving it into his mouth and savoring the tangy taste and the immediate response of his clenching stomach. He ate a few more bites, and continued to search the area.

Merle might have been gone, but his words lingered on. "Time to man up. Ain't no one gonna come help your ass outta here."

"Don't need them fuckers anyway," Daryl said glaring at the world around him. His eyes slipped to the bodies of the Walkers on the ground and as he popped another piece of offal into his watering mouth. "Get back to my fuckin' roots. I'll show you back to my fuckin' roots." Daryl pushed off of his seat on the log and walked his ass over to the first of the Walkers.

Bending down, fighting against the pull of the concussion makin' his vision blur a bit around the edges, he grabbed the fucker's shoe and pulled out the lace. Nodding his head and snarling a bit he used his new found resolve to kick the sum'bitch onto it's back. He unsheathed his knife and began cut that ugly bastard's ears off.

The whistle that filled the air this time was followed quickly by the low rumbling chuckle that he knew so well. And Daryl didn't even need to look up to see the grin that was probably roarin' to life on his brother's face as he hooked that ear onto his lace and moved on to the next. Six ears settled upon that thin little brown shoelace.

Six ears settled upon his neck.

Laughter that was as annoying as it was comforting rollin' in his mind as he slipped his eyes up that ridge. He didn't need any of them fuckers. The laughter got a bit louder, and before Daryl could open his mouth to shout out for Merle to shut the fuck up his ears picked up another sound.

Another bit of rustling and shuffling that killed the vestiges of Merle's laughter. It was behind him. Splashing slow through the shallow water, staggered strained steps and low hissin' moans. Daryl's lip curled as he gripped the handle of his knife tight.

He waited. Waited for the thing to get close. Givin' it that illusion that it was gonna get what it wanted, even though deep down Daryl knew the thing didn't feel that sense of elation that he imagined it would if it were alive, he still relished the feel of stealin' the things meal. He waited, until its dead fingers touched to the back of his shoulder. Then he spun, fast and sure, his knife flyin' straight on target and into the side of that fuckin' dead sum'bitch's head.

It wasn't until he twisted the blade, and watched the spark flicker out in those dead eyes, that his slightly pain-blurred vision cleared. His eyes focused so sharply and so quickly that it stole the pain right out of his head leavin' nothing. Absolutely fuckin' nothin' but raw disbelief and a whole different kind of pain shooting through his body. The world around faded and all he was left with was her face and her hair; those bright red strands that had tangled into the fingers of the hand he'd used to plunge his knife deep into her skull.

Her dead eyes were staring at him, his face reflected back in the milky depths. Her lips were cracked and pale, pulled back and parted in a growl of hunger that looked more like a silent scream of pain. A memory of her staring at him, hazel eyes dipped down and pink staining her cheeks as she handed him a lukewarm cup of shitty coffee flew into his mind. Thoughts of the way she laughed off his anger, takin' cues from Callie and realizing his bark was worse than his bite in certain circumstances.

Thoughts of her starin' at him in a rapt sort of grateful awe when he told her that her daddy had been a good man.

It was that point that her body started to fall, the dead weight of it being held up only by the blade of his knife. His hand moved the blade out slowly, feeling those red strands of her hair tickling at his hand as it slipped away from her. Her body fell to the water and Daryl followed with it, his knees buckling under him and sending him crashing down onto them in the shallow water.

Daryl's breathing had stopped at some point, and the pain in his chest from holding it in was starting to become too much to handle.

"Now that's a damn shame there, brother." Merle's voice, his hot breath fanning right into Daryl's ear as he leaned over his shoulder and stared down at Jenna's dead body more unwelcome than ever. "Always liked, Red."

Daryl's breath rushed out and he fell forward, his hands crashing down into the water in front of his knees as every pain, every bump, everything crashed down around him. He felt that bubble, the one he'd built up 'round his heart months ago, felt it swell under the pressure. And then without warning it burst into a million tiny pieces and sliced through his insides shredding them until they were as raw as the wounds on his outside.

Merle's chuckle filled is ears as Daryl sat there in the water, his head bobbin' under the insane pressure that had built there. Daryl felt the sting of the tears welling in his eyes, the pain of holdin' them back so intense he found himself snarlin'. Merle came into focus again, this time kneeling beside Jenna's body in the water and lookin' down on her with a sick sort of smile. Daryl 's eyes stayed on Jenna, black gore pouring out into the water from the place in the side of her head where he'd driven his knife.

"C'mon now," Merle said that damn chuckle lingering in the air around them. "Get your prize there, brother mine. C'mon," Merle said smacking his leg with his hand. "Got yourself 'nother set of ears for your pretty little necklace there." Merle chuckled and Daryl shifted his eyes to his brother. "Maybe you can give 'em to Jail-bird. Little 'sorry for offin' your kid' present, hmmm."

Daryl felt the growlin' hate burnin' up inside of him, felt it rippin' through his chest and tearin' out of his throat. But he'd be damned if he knew exactly what the hate was aimed at. Coulda been Merle and his laughin' ass. Coulda been Jenna. Coulda been the world at fuckin' large. Coulda been at himself.

Whatever it was, it tore outta him with a fierce sort of howl that shot his head back and thrashed his arms out of the water and out around his body. That howl echoed long and loud in that ravine and drowned out the lingering sound of Merle's laughter, and drove that fucker outta his mind.

Will you let them pass; Will you let them pass

Will you let them pass across this killing floor

Where every shadow is cast in stone

But I can't run if I can't walk

And I won't love if I can't stop

Every minute the pressure drops

From your first breath 'til your heart stops

Daryl didn't know how long he'd been sittin' in that water, just starin' at Jenna's lifeless body glitterin' in the sun. Didn't know how long, but knew it had been too long when his legs started feelin' stiff and pinpricks of that needly sensation started ridin' his thighs and numbin' his toes.

His hands were settled on his thighs, his right still clenched tight around the hilt of his knife. The pain of his wounds and the poundin' in his head was throbbin' more powerfully now, slowly comin' back to the forefront of his mind. His eyes roved over the girl's body, the water she was layin' in helpin' to wash away some of the dirt, mud and blood from her body. Her bare feet shone bright in the sunlight, the scratches and gouged out flesh lookin' so painful he wondered how she'd managed to get 'round at all. Her abdomen was blown out below where her ribcage was, most likely the exit wound of the bullet that had torn through her.

Fucker shot her in the back.

Daryl's hands clenched tight on his thighs as he continued to stare at that horrid wound. All he could think about was how much pain that girl had to have been in when she passed. How scared she musta been layin' in that grass bleedin' out. His eyes caught on the bits of white bone, her broken and shattered ribs exploding out and catching in the dark green fabric of her shirt. A shirt he immediately recognized as Callie's; the one he'd stripped off of her that night at the box truck and subsequently hid in his back pocket. Their first night together.

His stomach rolled a bit and he snarled as his jaw clenched tight.

Daryl's eyes slipped up to her face, and he immediately looked away. Closing his eyes he took a deep shuddering breath in and as he let it out he looked back to her face. The wound on the side of her head was a large gaping gash. The bullet tore through breaking the bones but not hittin' the brain.

Just another fuckin' pain that girl had to endure alone.

"You gonna just sit there and stare at her for the resta your life," Merle's voice slipped over him and Daryl growled as his chin lowered to his chest. Merle's feet came into view right by Jenna's head, her red hair fannin' out around her in the water and brushin' off of Merle's dirty boots.

Daryl lifted his right hand at that point, using the back of it to wipe at his own blood stained mouth. His eyes slipped over Jenna's body again, and he began to nod his head idly as he pushed to his feet. His legs protested, the pins and needles flyin' painfully through them as he stood to his full height. Daryl sheathed his knife and wiped the back of his left hand hard over his eyes and then under his nose. This time he did shake his head, shook it hard. Hopin' that the nausea and dizziness of his concussion would wipe away the vision of that girl layin' dead in the water.

But it didn't.

And then Merle was fuckin' hummin' that damn song again and Daryl was growlin' low in the back of his throat again. Daryl stalked up to where Jenna's body was, and knelt down in the water beside her. His wound was flarin' back to life, the pain marchin' through his body in droves as he lifted his hands and worked them towards her. They were shakin' like leaves as they reached out towards her, and he flinched back the second his fingers touched her. His eyes skipped up to her face and he snarled as Merle kept on hummin' in the background.

With a flourish of movement Daryl reached out and slapped his hand over her eyes, his rough palm workin' to pull those lids down over the dead milky used-to-be-hazel orbs. He snatched his hand back quick, feelin' the burn of a fire that wasn't there and pressed the back of that hand into his mouth again.

"When they let me outta prison," Merle's voice sang low somewhere behind him and Daryl stared hard at the girl as he tried to drown him out. "I held my head up high. Determined I would rise above the shame."

Daryl shook his head again, scramblin' up all those fuckin' black and white flecks until the image of Jenna blurred to the point of bein' unrecognizable. He reached out then, as the sound of Merle shiftin' in the water somewhere behind him reached his ears. His hands pulled at Jenna's dead body, workin' hard to lift her out of the shallow water. He pushed up on his left knee, feelin' the harsh pull of his torn side screamin' at him. He pushed and groaned under the weight, heftin' her body up into his arms.

He staggered under her weight, but worked to keep his footin'. The pain in his body was throbbin' a hundred times worse than it had been before, his arms shakin' like twigs that were 'bout to fuckin' snap. He didn't care.

He couldn't leave her there.

He had to take her back.

"But no matter where I'd travelled," Merle's voice continued to sing low in the background as Daryl staggered and fell to his knees with Jenna's lifeless corpse falling from his arms and splashing back into the water. Daryl fell to his hands and knees in the water again, his breath comin' out in painful gasps and puffs as he stared at that mucked up water. "The black mark follows me," Merle continued on in that same low singing voice. "I'm branded, with a number on my name."

"I can't," Daryl said to the water. To Merle. To Jenna. To Callie. "I can't," he breathed out a few rushed pants and lifted his head to stare at Jenna, now settled on her side. Her face was half in the water, her red hair tangled about her head.

"What's that little brother?" Merle asked from somewhere behind him. Daryl's head shook from side to side and he glared at the water.

"I can't," Daryl panted out his head shakin' from side to side. "I can't carry her."

Merle chuckled, and his hand fell hard down on Daryl's already heavy shoulders.

"Now that's the first smart thing you said all day, brother." Merle smacked his hand against his shoulders and nearly sent Daryl face first into the water. Two more hard thwaps and Merle's hand was gone, leavin' Daryl to shift and settle back onto his heels in the water again. "You can't carry them. It's 'bout damn time you figured that shit out."

Daryl stared at Jenna's lifeless body for a few seconds more before pushing back up to his feet. He continued to steal glances at her body as he made his way around collectin' his scattered shit from the ground. His crossbow was in place on his back, his knife back at his belt. Sophia's doll was tucked back into the space between his belt and his pants and he was ready to go.

His eyes remained on the form of Jenna, her red hair wavin' in the water and he felt the distaste growin' in his mouth as he got further from her. Shakin' his head he looked away and blinked those fuckin' tears away. Snarlin' he spun on his heel and staggered over towards her, his hands reachin' out quick and steady and he flipped her onto her back. He tried not to think about it as draggin' her, but that's what he was doin'. He was draggin' her through that water, each step sending a wave of pain through him that he pushed past.

He wasn't leavin' her face down in the fuckin' water.

He settled Jenna's body up on the bank of the water, and fixed her arms over her wounded abdomen. He stared at her face for a minute, his finger hookin' on a strand of that red hair of hers and pullin' it off of her face.

She'd always been a pretty girl. Now she wasn't nothin' but an ugly shell. A stark reminder of what this world was now, and what they'd all eventually become.

Daryl sneered at her and stood up, his head dipped down as he trudged over to that ridge and the he looked up. Determination fueled his muscles and his body, clouded his mind and made him forget about the pain of his wounds as he climbed. He kept his mind on one thing, and one thing only, the simple task of gettin' his ass up that ridge.

He was so fuckin' close.

Once he did that he could get to the farm. Get to Rick and tell him he'd found Sophia's trail. Give Carol that doll. Then he could rest up, and come back for her. Come back and get her so that she wasn't alone out here for long. He'd get her and bring her back for Callie.

His steps faltered bit, his arms holdin' tight to the branches he was grabbin' on to. He felt himself swingin' out a bit and snarled. He wasn't fallin' again.

"C'mon now Darylena," Merle's voice rang out from the top of the ridge and Daryl snarled up at him as he readjusted his stance. Merle chuckled and slipped to the side so that he stayed in Daryl's blurry field of vision. "That all ya got in ya? C'mon, throw me that purse an' climb, boy."

"I liked you better when you was missin'," Daryl seethed out through his clenched teeth as he worked around, his hands searching for a good hold to help him up.

"Now don't be like that," Merle said laughing as he tisked him. "I'm on your side."

"Yeah, since when?" Daryl snapped back, his breaths coming in sharp pants as he felt his feet slipping in the dirt. He held tight, and pushed through the pain.

He was not fallin' again

"Since the day you were born, baby brother." Merle said in a matter-of-fact tone that had Daryl shifting to look up at him. "Someone had to look out for your worthless ass."

"You talk big game," Daryl said workin' harder to get to the top. Once he got to the top, he was gonna beat the shit outta that laughin' motherfucker. "You talk big game, brother. But you weren't there. You didn't do jack shit for me."

"I made a man of you," Merle snapped back. "Made you the man you are."

"Nah, I did that," Daryl said grabbin' hold of a branch. "I'm my own man."

"Oh really? And what type a man is that, brother mine?" Merle sneered out at him and Daryl felt his lips twist in an angry snarl. Merle scoffed at Daryl and leaned over the ridge a bit starin' hard at Daryl as he struggled to find a good foothold. "You ain't nothin'. You ain't no better than me."

"I ain't you," Daryl shot back his voice cracking as his fingers yet again slipped off of the branch he was reaching for. "I ain't," Daryl looked up at the smirking face of his brother just starin' down at him in hateful spite. "I ain't no meth-head. I ain't a murderer."

"And what you call what you did down there?" Merle said before he sucked in a bit of air through his teeth. He spit at the ground right in front of Daryl and glowered at him for a moment before a sick sort of smile twisted his features. "What you gonna tell our little Jail-bird? You gonna tell her you put her girl down; put her down like some rabid dog without a twinge of regret."

"Shut up," Daryl spat angrily his hands grabbin' frantically for a hold as he began to shake his head and mutter to himself. "She'll understand. She's had to do it. She'll understand." Merle was laughing now, standing up right, arms out at his sides just beggin' Daryl to come on up there and try to take him down a peg.

"You know, you're right, brother." Merle was leaning further down and Daryl was starin' up at him as he sneered down. "You ain't me. You ain't nothin' but a pussy bein' led 'round by your dick, and lovin' every minute of it."

"You best shut up," Daryl snarled up at him, reachin' and grabbin' and draggin' himself up along that loose dirt towards the top of the ridge.

"Or what?" Merle said shakin' his hands out at his sides and laughin'. "You gonna come an' shut my mouth for me?" Merle got down low, and Daryl glared at him. "Or you gonna get your boy Rick to do it for you again?" Merle said harshly, his lips moving up in a snarl as he wiggled his fingers at Daryl. "C'mon boy, show me what kinda man you really are." Merle said as Daryl worked at grasping up towards him. "C'mon! Reach out and grab your friend Rick's hand."

Daryl's hand flew up towards Merle's and slammed hard down into the dry dirt at the top of the ridge. Using what was left of his strength Daryl pulled his aching body up to the top and staggered onto his feet. Breathing hard he let his eyes slide around the area searching for any sign of his brother. His world tilted a bit, hazed around the edges and he almost staggered back a step before realizing he was still at the edge of the cliff.

Stumbling forward a few paces he turned and stared down that ridge. He glared down at those branches, picking his way through the slats of sunlight until his eyes landed on the dark shape layin' at the bottom.

Wiping the back of his hand along his blood stained mouth he nodded at that ridge a few times before tuning and scanning the woods around him. He was alone again. The blood pounding through his head, and the pain searing through the wounds in his flesh his only companion. Just like every other fuckin' day of his life. Taking in three deep breaths he staggered forward a few steps, his hand comin' to rest on a tree as he worked to catch his breath.

Daryl pushed off the tree and staggered a few more steps, picking up a bit of speed and assurance with each bit of distance he put between himself and that fuckin' ridge.

He'd show him.

He'd show Merle what type of man he was. If it was the last thing he ever fuckin' did; his brother would see what type of man he'd become.

Carry me, carry me

But you take

Take

It's never enough

You just take

Take

It's never enough

You just take

Take

Every part of me

All of me

~River Styx / BRMC (Black Rebel Motorcycle Club)

AN: Well, there you go. I know a lot of you out there were really looking forward to this, so I can only hope it didn't disappoint. The entire thing was so perfect in the series, that I felt almost 'wrong' for trying to take it on. But here it is. In reality, this is the first time that I've had the opportunity to sit and write out a conversation between Daryl and Merle (a real honest to God one that's just the two of them). I put a lot of the original dialogue in there because I really wanted to stay true to the characters for this. I'd love to hear what you thought of my take here. :-D

For those interested: The song Merle is singing (the one that Daryl hates) is Branded Man by Merle Haggard (AKA The Hag). Kinda fun that y'all got two songs for this chapter… but I guess it makes sense ('cause you got two Dixons!)

For those keeping score, I know I've used quite a few songs from BRMC. The sound and the words man, they really have the sound that I'm going for and the words are just haunting in respect to the flow of the story. If you aren't familiar I'd recommend you checkin' them out. It may not be your cup of tea, but for me it just fits.

A'right, so now that I got that part of this story out there. It's time to get Daryl back…and see how that all plays out

See ya next chapter!