A.N: Another gap that I had to fill so once again slightly off script. I always wondered what Daryl did with Merle's body and it didn't sit right with me that he would just leave him. I ran with that thought here...


So much had happened in recent days, the meeting with the Governor, the arguments in the cell block, the emotional upheaval that he and Rick had waded through when they wrestled with the difficult decisions, but none of it mattered, not in comparison to the one thing that Daryl's mind just could not process. Merle. Merle was dead, real death this time, not the death that he had dragged himself through the last time his brother disappeared, but the kind that came with a tombstone and tears and the feeling that Daryl just couldn't draw a full breath into his lungs. The truth had been there, right before his eyes this time, there was no avoiding it. Merle was gone and Daryl was the sole survivor of the Dixon clan, a family who had once believed that they could survive anything and everything the world threw at them.

His return to the prison was not something he had been able to think about but his brain had made the journey without a need for conscious reasoning. He hadn't stopped to consider how the others would react when they saw an unfamiliar car approaching the fence or how the others might feel about him bringing his brother home, he'd just acted. He hadn't been able to see for the tears in his eyes but his heart had led him home. They would know when he returned without his brother in tow that his mission to track him down hadn't ended well, Michonne would have filled them in on the fact that his brother had released her and headed off to take on the Governor on his own.

They were waiting for him when he got back, anxious faces behind the wire fence that kept them safe. The tears had stopped by then but they were still there, ready to fall at a moments notice, balanced on the razor-thin edge of his control. He could see the shapes but not the individual features as he approached. He saw the moment that they recognised him behind the wheel and the moment when they realised who wasn't sitting beside him in the passenger seat. Paying no attention to the flurry of movement as the gates opened and he passed through them, he drove to the furthest edge of the yard and stopped the car. Unable to face them all, he threw back his head against the head rest and tried to try to rein in the emotions.

When he finally climbed out of the vehicle, legs shaking beneath him, the air was silent. Turning his head, he found the yard empty apart from one solitary figure who stood near to the cell block entrance unwilling to intrude on his precarious self-control. She was unsure of her welcome, arms wrapped around her middle as she waited for a sign for him. She was the only person he wanted to see, the only person that could possibly understand the depth of his feelings.

As he slumped against the side of the car, legs just refusing to hold him upright any longer, she ran to him, closing the distance faster than he would have thought possible. Expression changing as she got close enough to read his own, Carol skidded to a stop, hand raised to her mouth. She knew just by looking at him why he had returned alone and in that moment his pain became hers. Her empathy was his undoing, the tidal wave of emotion crashing through all of his defences and sweeping him away. He pushed himself up from the side of the car and she caught him as his legs gave way under him, arms wrapping around his waist to stop him from hitting the concrete, gently lowering him to the ground. Unable to hold back the tide, Daryl collapsed emotionally and physically in her embrace, face buried in her shoulder, tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt.

She stayed with him, letting him cry himself out without comment. No words were needed, she understood what the emotion represented, facts were irrelevant. Like an animal caught in a trap, he waited for the next wave of pain to finish him off, eased only by her presence and the tears that she shed for Merle and for him. Her voice was soft, murmured words of sorrow and condolence that didn't do nearly as much to ease the pain in his chest as the touch of her skin on his. With Carol as his only audience, Daryl let it all go, allowing himself to grieve openly and honestly for what he had lost.

"Never thought I'd have to ..." he managed to say when the tears had finally stopped and he could draw a shallow breath.

Carol's hand stilled on his shoulder as she absorbed his meaning. A heartbeat later her hand found his, fingers curling around his own and providing him a lifeline in the storm. Daryl hung onto her, knowing that his grip was too tight. She didn't complain. "I'm sorry Daryl," she told him softly. "What can I do?"

So simple. Four words that made him love her even more than he did already. Love, that was what it was, the feeling that he felt whenever she was around, whenever she looked at him in that way that made his heart speed up and slow down all at once. She didn't try to take the pain away by offering words that would mean nothing, she just sat with him, cried with him and asked him what she could do to help him bear the burden.

"I don't want the others to see him the way he is now ..." he admitted. It was the first acknowledgement that he had brought Merle home with him and she was the only person he would share it with. Turning his face up to look at her, he found her looking out across the field to their little graveyard and the empty grave that had been dug for her when they thought she was lost. There was no way that they could get out there to bury Merle with the others, too many walkers to run the risk.

"We could bury him in the woods," she said finally, "nothing fancy, just you and me, that way nobody else would see him."

She returned to the cell block briefly but only to confirm Merle's passing to the others and ask that they respect Daryl's need to be alone, then they headed to the edge of the woods, shovels in hand. Daryl threw himself into the task of digging the grave, channelling the anger into something physical, every bruise and splinter becoming a tribute to the brother he had always idolised. Merle had given his life for the group and Daryl would bleed for his brother while he buried him. The small sacrifices were all he could offer him now. Carol helped with the digging but he wouldn't let her help with the body. Alone, he carried his brother from the trunk of the car to the grave site, glad of the blanket that he had found in the car and wrapped the body in.

Side by side they stood by the freshly turned earth, heads bowed. It felt as natural as breathing to reach for her and she placed her hand in his without hesitation. Daryl didn't believe in God, he never had really, but he was thankful for whatever prayers Carol might be throwing out there for Merle, more thankful than she would ever know. They marked his brothers resting place with a simple cross made from sticks, his grief spilling over like a wash of fresh blood when she produced a Cherokee rose that she had found while he had gone back to collect the body and placed it beneath the wooden memorial.

If she was impatient to move on she didn't show it, standing vigil with him until he was ready to leave. As they fell into step beside one another, she slipped an arm around his waist. He accepted all that she offered and drank it in, needing the touch to anchor him, needing her proximity to remind him that there was something to live for. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, holding her even closer. They stayed out in the yard, sitting on one of the tables and looking out at the amber hues of the failing sunset and eventually up at the stars that became visible in the sky. The quiet soothed him; the warmth of her at his side soothed him more.

"We'll go back in when you're ready," she told him, staring in wonder at the expanse above her, "stay out here all night if that's what you want but I'm staying until you tell me to go."

When they did eventually go back inside he was relieved to find the others had retreated to their cells for the night. He didn't want questions, could barely cope with the nod of acknowledgement that Rick gave him as they passed by. Alone he would crumble, he knew it as sure as he knew that he would take his breath. Alone he would revisit every memory of his brother, good and bad, from the earliest when he was a kid and Merle was already leaving, to the last in which his brother's lifeless eyes had stared up at him, he would see them all.

To his surprise she didn't turn into her own cell, so close to his and yet so far away, but guided him into his. He didn't fight her when she helped him out of his jacket and boots, too numb to protest that he could do it himself. Her hands were gentle but firm as she pushed him back to the mattress and covered him with the blanket, watching him with steady eyes as he curled up small and alone.

After a moment of indecision she surprised the hell out of him, kicking off her boots and slipping off her shirt and the belt from her jeans before lying down beside him. Automatically he lifted the blanket to cover her, noticing for the first time how cool her skin was after their time out in the yard. Though she didn't do anything but lie at his side, he felt the comfort of having her close. "This okay?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper in the still air.

Wordlessly he nodded, dangerously close to crying again in the face of her selfless kindness. Carol exhaled a sigh, placing a hand against his cheek and wiping away the evidence of his tears. Her touch was gentle, familiar and oh so welcome. He hadn't wanted to be alone, now he wouldn't be. Tonight he needed her and she was there, her arms around him in the dark; he wouldn't look further than that, a simple kindness that spoke directly to his soul and spoke volumes about hers. Though sleep took a long time in coming to him that night, it found him in Carol's arms.