DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Walking Dead. The characters just like to torment my every waking moment with their escapades. Even when I'm working. *sigh*

This was not happening.

Daryl fought to process the scene in front of him but found no reasonable explanation for the fact that his brother was alive, cozied up to the campfire and Carol (Carol!) like he'd just been gone a few days and his presence wasn't a big deal.

Rick's hand on his arm and a nod back towards the trees from which he had just emerged finally brought him out of his daze.

"A word, brother?" Rick whispered gruffly.

Daryl nodded imperceptibly, and followed the ex-sheriff back into the woods.

Carol shivered from anything but the chill that still dwelled in the air, despite the fire and the fact that she had retrieved Daryl's leather jacket from the tent to keep her warm. Rick and Daryl had been gone for a good fifteen minutes, and Merle wasn't dealing with the delay politely.

"What the fuck is going on with Officer Friendly and my baby bro, sugar tits?" he sneered at her, holding his coffee mug out for a refill.

"Nothin' you need to be frettin' over, Merle," Carol replied, only filling the mug halfway. Daryl had yet to get his fair share of the "peace offering" his brother had made good on, and she would be damned if the man didn't get the chance to enjoy the first cup of coffee that had graced their fire in months. If Merle noticed the fact that she had short changed him, he didn't mention it.

"So, this community you are talking about," Hershel began, trying to draw Merle into a new conversation. Carol shot him a grateful look and placed the percolator back next to the fire. "How many people?"

"Eighty or so," Merle drawled. "Men, women, an' children. Ain't much, gramps, but we take care of our own. And the Governor, he's a good man, so long as ya don't cross him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Glenn asked, not taking his gun from the man Merle had called Martinez, who now sat tight lipped, nursing his own cup of coffee.

"Means he rules with an iron fist, China Man," Merle smirked.

"Jesus Christ! I'm Korean, asshole! How many times do you have to be told?" Glenn stood up and turned away.

Carol shook her head and looked at Maggie, who was obviously struggling to bite her tongue. What Carol couldn't figure out was if it was annoyance or amusement that colored the young woman's features. Carol offered her a small smile and a shrug. Merle obviously hadn't changed in the time that he'd gone missing. No sense in trying to hide the fact from members of the group who had never had the pleasure of meeting the eldest Dixon brother.

"Where ya been, Merle?" Carol asked, voicing the question that Glenn hadn't asked.

"Around," Merle quipped. "Ya woulda found me if ya'all'd been lookin' hard enough."

"Been too busy tryin' not to get killed," Lori finally entered the conversation, leveling Merle with a glare. "No thanks to you, but there woulda been a lot more of us if you hadn't been actin' the ass up on that roof in Atlanta. If your brother hadn't talked my husband into going back to look for your sorry ass, that is."

"Your husband handcuffed me to a pipe and left me for the Biters, sister. What happened after the fact isn't my concern," Merle replied, eyeing a very pregnant Lori Grimes.

Carol's blood froze in her veins. The look on Merle's face was positively predatory. Something told her that there might be a lot more to the current situation than met the eye. Merle had been far too accommodating once the tables had been turned against him and his men, and it was plain to see that something about the Grimes woman had piqued his interest.

"Who's brat ya got bakin' in that oven of yers? Seems ta me ya and that other cop were gettin' pretty hot and heavy back at the quarry," he cut to the chase. Carol had to give him that.

"It's Rick's," Lori spat. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Right," he smiled slowly, and turned his attention back towards Carol. "So what happened ta that asshole husband of yers, Mrs. Pelletier? Or is it Mrs. Dixon now?"

"Walkers," Carol muttered, choosing not to answer the second question.

"An' yer daughter?" he pressed.

"Walkers," she muttered again, almost wishing she'd shot him when she had the chance.

"M'truly sorry fer that," Merle actually looked concerned. "That wouldn't'a happened if ya'all'd been back in Woodbury. Like I said, we take care of our own."

"What makes you think we'd want to associate with any group that took you in, Merle Dixon?" Lori seethed at him from across the campfire circle.

"We got doctors, for one," he nodded towards her. "Ya might wanna be thinkin' on that, considerin' yer delicate condition, an' all."

Another point for Merle. Carol was impressed at the sparring match taking place between Daryl's brother and the unofficial "First Lady" of the original Atlanta group. None of them had been keen on the idea of "joining forces" as Merle had first proposed, but she had to admit that the idea of a protected community, complete with doctors, was a tempting offer. If it meant that Daryl got his brother back, more or less in one piece, she was grudgingly starting to warm up to the idea. She trusted Merle about as far as she could throw him, but that didn't mean they couldn't at least look into the claims he was making.

Carol kept these thoughts to herself, not forgetting the way that Merle had looked at Lori's pregnant stomach only moments ago. Something wasn't completely kosher there. Of that, she was certain.

"He's wantin' us to come back to this Woodbury place with him," Rick finished filling Daryl in on the events that had played out in the camp in his absence. "Says that it's a protected community. Man there that calls himself the Governor - he's in charge."

Daryl hadn't said a word. He looked at Rick, nodded, and bit into his thumbnail.

Rick watched the tracker warily, and Daryl sighed. He knew that the cop was analyzing his every reaction, looking for whatever it was that he thought he could get out of him.

For his part, Daryl still couldn't believe that this was happening. Had it only been moments ago that he was planning on confronting Carol with his thoughts on what was happening between them? Had it been just minutes beforehand that he had heard his brother's voice in his head, taunting him and calling him a pussy?

And now he was sitting at their camp, real as life, offering up a safe haven. Something that the group had been searching for since the farm fell.

Daryl's first instinct was to head back into the woods and not look back. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at full attention. Merle didn't just come back from the way he'd been left and not have an ulterior motive. He knew his brother well enough to know that there was trouble brewing in this situation somewhere.

"Don't like it," Daryl finally grumbled. "We can check it out, if'in ya want, but I don't trust it."

Rick expelled a frustrated breath and nodded. "I was figurin' you was gonna say somethin' like that. Doesn't make my job any easier."

"Well, if ya was lookin' for a yellow brick road, ya came to the wrong person, Dorothy," the hunter smirked. "Let's get back to camp. My brother and I got some catchin' up ta do."