AN: This is really just a filler chapter, but it moves us forward for more exciting things next chapter. At any rate, I hope you enjoy! :)

Carol couldn't concentrate. The mending she'd been attempting lay pointlessly in her lap, a basket full of clothes sat untouched on the floor next to her. It'd been early morning when she'd taken over Michonne's post at Daryl's side, now it was late afternoon. She didn't mind keeping vigil over her dear friend, really there was no other place she'd rather be, but that didn't keep her from feeling like she was sitting still in time. It didn't keep her mind from running wild with worry. Worry for the group that'd set out earlier. Would they find the medical supplies they so desperately needed? Would they be ok? Would they run into trouble, whether in the form of walkers or humans, maybe even the very same people that had done this to Daryl? And Daryl. How she worried about him. Body broken, lost, trapped in his own mind. Was it a silent sleep? Was he dreaming? Was he in a place of peace and comfort, or was he scared and hurting? He looked calm and relaxed, peaceful even. Deceptively so, she worried.

Gazing at his still form, she drew the planes of his face with her eyes committing every feature to memory; the scruffy beard, the mole on the corner of his mouth, feathery lashes attached to closed lids, concealing what she knew to be, eyes intensely blue and ever observant. His appearance was already changed from just a week ago. The trauma he'd endured manifesting in a visible way, beyond the sickly pallor his skin had taken on or the deep, dark bruising under his eyes. His cheeks were beginning to take on a hollow look and his face had thinned even more than it had already during their time on the road, the group had only just begun to attempt at putting some meat back on their bones. If he didn't wake up soon…

She ached to do something for him. Give him some anchor to fight his way back from wherever he was stranded now. Reaching out, she took his cold and limp hand in her own. "Please come back to us, Daryl." She whispered, earnestly. "Come back."

"How's our patient doing?"

Carol jumped, ashamed at having let her guard down. Hershel shouldn't have been able to sneak up on her, especially with the crutches echoing around the concrete walls announcing his presence long before he was ever seen. Although, she supposed if she was going to let her guard down anywhere, this would be the place.

"He's the same." She replied, standing so Hershel could sit down.

He sighed before shuffling over and handing Carol his crutches once he'd sat. "I admit I was hoping there'd been some change, but seeing as no one sent for me, well, it didn't seem likely."

Hershel set about checking Daryl's vitals and changing his bandages, Carol handing him the supplies he needed, neither speaking. When Hershel removed the bandage on Daryl's torso, he took a harsh intake of breath.

"Shit." He cursed unhappily, almost angrily, but there was too much sadness woven into his tone to be true anger.

"What?" Carol asked alarmed, fear coursing through her. "What is it?"

"He's developed a slight fever, and look here," Hershel pointed to the wound in Daryl's side. "See this, the redness and minor swelling, points to the beginnings of infection."

Carol gasped in dismay. She'd had a bad feeling all day. Despite all the worrying she'd been doing, she'd been praying it'd been for nothing. But she'd known, could feel it in her bones, no matter how much she tried to deny it; something dreadful was going to happen today. Now that 'something' had presented itself, she could only hope it'd stay at that, and not be compounded by anything else terrible. Their luck had to turn at some point, right?

She eyed the wound in Daryl's side grimly, failing in her attempt not to dwell on all of the implications an infected wound may mean for him. Closing her eyes to block it out, she shifted her scrutiny of Daryl's injury to the cell door, as if she could conjure the others' return by sheer force of will.

"They've been gone awhile now. They'll be back with the medicine soon. Everything will be fine." She couldn't tell who she was trying to reassure more, Hershel or herself.

"M-merle?" Daryl cringed at himself as he stuttered pathetically, but it didn't stop him from doing it again. "W-what are…? H-how?"

"Well I'm here ain't I?" Merle shrugged nonchalantly. "What's it matter how?"

Daryl stepped closer to the cell, feeling almost removed from his body, like he was fighting a current. It was all he could do to keep from trembling. He couldn't do that. Not in front of Merle. Dixon's don't feel weakness, and they sure as shit don't show it when they do. How was this even possible? This was all so surreal. All of it. Beth and her goddamn potatoes, Carol and her stupid ass bleeding floor, Glenn and Maggie with bloody tears, Rick made of fucking blood. All of them pleading with him to go back, wherever the fuck 'back' was. And now Merle was here. His dead brother. Dead, but somehow here, beckoning him forward.

What is happening to me?

I'm losing my damn mind.

The weight of it all was pressing down on him, threatening to crush him, grind him into dust. Slowly and painfully. He could barely breathe. He could barely move. Yet he forced himself to continue forward, closing the short distance between him and his brother. But when he was just a step away and Merle reached out to him through the bars he stopped abruptly, suddenly afraid of his brother's touch. Afraid it'd shatter the illusion. Because no matter how much he wanted it to be true, how could Merle really be here?

"Ooohhheeee boy!" Merle crowed. "Where's your balls at Darylina? Let me guess. Your sweetheart, Rick's holding on to 'em for ya."

Daryl glowered at him. Reminded himself that he missed his brother. Merle just cackled at him like a lunatic from inside his cell, like it was the funniest shit ever. All it did was aggravate him, his nerves and his increasing headache.

"This ain't real." Daryl muttered to himself. "I'm dreaming."

"Awwww. Ain't that touching. You dreaming of me? Well now, don't that just give me the warm fuzzies." Merle teased sarcastically before turning vile. "Hey! What makes you think you're dreaming, huh boy? Maybe you're just crazy. Yeah, I bet you finally took a swan dive right into the deep end."

"Would you let up, Merle!" Daryl shouted in annoyance. "What the hell is going on around here?"

Merle looked at him seriously. "Well, if you haven't figured that out yet, baby bro, then you're in for a sight of trouble."