A/N: Woo hoo! Finally got this chapter up. Let me know what y'all think :) I know that non-romance 'TWD' fanfics aren't particularly popular, but give this one a chance! As always thanks to my beta Calcifer179, and thank you to all who read this and take the time to follow, favourite and review. It means the world to me!

5.

Fontana had definitely been hit harder than the previous towns they had travelled through. The streets were almost entirely blocked by abandoned vehicles and rubbish, the shops windows were either broken or boarded up and Daryl could already see that it boasted a high population of undead. Bodies littered the road, all in various states of decomposition. Some were fresh corpses, with few visible wounds and reasonably clean skin. Others were essentially carcasses, unrecognisable from the people they had once been.
Logan stuck her head out of the window like an excitable dog and raised her hand in a 'stop' motion to Daryl, who slowed the truck in front of a particularly dense pile up of cars and twisted metal.
"I don't think we can drive through here man."
"Ya right, the jail is on the other side too."
"Of course it is," the girl laughed in reply, "It would be too easy otherwise."
Daryl let the Ford slide to a halt and cut off the engine before turning to his niece;
"You stay here. Be ready to make a quick exit. Ya still got that pistol…?" Logan raised the gun in a mock salute, "Good, I'm gonna try and find ya a knife too, that frying pan of yer's ain't gonna last forever."
"I'm not just going to sit here twiddling my thumbs Daryl."
"For once in ya life just listen to me okay? I'll be quieter by myself, quicker. Plus…" the man trailed off, unsure how to explain the second part of his reasoning to her, "I think it would be better if it's just me who Merle sees to start with."
"Aw what? You mean he isn't going to be pleased to see me?" Logan's hand fluttered to her mouth and her voice dripped sarcasm.
"Who knows what he'll do, probably been up on that roof for hours, sun stroked and all…"
"I'm not just going to sit on my arse man; I'll scavenge these shops okay? Look for more supplies and whatnot."
"Fine," Daryl conceded, "Stay out of trouble though; I can't be coming back to ya easily. If shit starts to go down ya gotta hightail it outta here."
"Thanks for that Captain Obvious."
"Ya watch yer mouth!" The redneck barked, jumping out of the truck and checking his weapons over to ensure they were ready to go. Logan followed suite, the long shirt she wore hanging loosely on her sticklike legs. She pulled a few strips of jerky from the cab of the truck and her backpack from where it had hastily shoved on the floor panel and swung one strap over her shoulder.
"I'm gonna go get dressed, stake out some of these buildings. If you aren't back in an hour I'll come looking."
Daryl grumbled at this, but didn't see the point in arguing with her. She was proving to be even more stubborn than him, maybe even worse than Merle, and it would only prolong finding his brother and getting the Hell out of there. He wasn't looking forward to what would happen when he had located the older Dixon, what Merle's reaction to being forced to interact with his long-lost daughter would be…
With a nod goodbye, Daryl began to weave his way as silently as he could through the wreckage, every now and then coming across a zombie that was shuffling amongst the cars. He grasped his hunting knife close to his chest and learned to take them out quickly, coming up from behind the groaning forms and stabbing them fluidly through the base of their skulls and upwards, ensuring he destroyed the brain just as Logan had instructed.
It was slow going, but seemed almost too easy and the road was becoming less blocked and more open the further he walked down the main street. That was good and bad, easier for him to move, but also easier for the undead to gather, and he could see larger numbers of them further down the street.
Daryl ducked into a nearby pharmacy, surveying it to ensure it was safe and empty and he took a moment to formulate a plan. The jail was, from memory, one block down and two streets over, meaning he had a fair bit of ground to cover and God knows how many zombies to take down before he even got close to his goal. He needed to find a back way; the alleys behind the buildings would likely be less overrun than the main streets, safer for him and Merle to travel back to the truck and then it was just a matter of making introductions. He certainly wasn't looking forward to the way his brother would react upon meeting Logan; it wasn't something he wanted to dwell on more than necessary. One thing at a time.
The road was reasonably clear when Daryl poked his head back out the pharmacy doorway, he stuck to the left side, knowing that that was where the jail was positioned and moved like a ghost past two other deserted shops before he entered the alleyway. It was narrow, and contained a solitary zombie who was feasting on the carcass of what appeared to be a cat. It didn't even notice him creep up from behind and plunge his knife up and under its skull, merely falling to the ground with a dull thud and a low gurgling sound.
The rest of the trip through the alleys was uneventful until the jail loomed in sight and then the sound of a gun cracked the air, making Daryl back hastily up against a wall for cover.
"Merle...," he hissed, raising his crossbow at the ready.
The ground surrounding the jail was packed with corpses, most of which appeared to be undead that had been taken out by well-placed bullets. His brother didn't have many positive qualities, but he had always been a damn good shot.
The area looked reasonably clear, so Daryl hesitantly stepped a little closer toward the jail, keeping to the shadows to avoid being caught in Merle's line of random fire. He arrived shortly at the front of the building and stalked up the steps and through the dimly lit officers and cells, stopping to loot the mangled bodies of two cops for the little ammo they had on them.
It was only a small county jail and walking down the lines of cells revealed them to all be empty, some busted open in hasty escapes. The roof access was up a flight of stairs and through a door marked with a neon 'exit' sign, two zombies blocked the way, but Daryl made short work of them, feeling his muscles growing used to the repetitive actions of lunge, stab, repeat. As he pulled open the metal door, a familiar voice swirled down from above, a low Southern drawl was yelling incomprehensible slurs.
Daryl took a deep breath and as quietly as he could made his way up the ladder attached to the side of the building, hearing the occasional gunshot ring out across the rooftop and the yells grow progressively louder as he reached the roof and pulled himself up over the side.
Merle was crouched across from him, his skin reddened by the sun and his stance visibly off balance. He gripped a large scoped rifle in his muscular arms and upon hearing the steps of a newcomer on the concrete roof he had turned to raise the gun in a threatening manner.
"Merle!" Daryl yelled, "Merle don't shoot, it's me. It's Daryl."
"You ain't Daryl!" Merle screamed, waving the shotgun crazily overhead, "Daryl's dead. Everyone's dead…"
"Merle, you need to calm down!" The younger Dixon brother made his way across the rooftop carefully, not willing to lower his crossbow, but not wanting to threaten the sun stroked redneck further. It was to no avail, however, as Merle aimed the gun and fired it aggressively, the bullet connecting with the concrete close to Daryl's feet as he dropped his own weapon and dove for his brother. The two men rolled in a death grip, locked onto each other, both throwing the odd punch that resulted in the other groaning in pain. Daryl eventually managed to overpower his larger sibling, using the man's fatigue against him and pinned Merle to the ground. His blue eyes were hazy with fear and uncertainty, but managed to focus on Daryl's face and recognition flashed across them;
"Daryl? Daryl you came to get me…"
"Well I wasn't about to leave ya to get eaten," he reasoned, loosening his grasp on Merle's wrists a fraction, but not releasing him entirely.
"I'm okay, you can get the Hell off me now," the older man grumbled, a touch of embarrassment in his gruff voice.
Daryl reluctantly moved off Merle, offering his hand to assist his brother in standing up. The sunburn was worse close up and he was very shaky on his feet, but he refused to lean against Daryl, brushing him off dismissively.
"Took yer bloody time to come and get me. What were you doing? Off picking flowers?"
Daryl grunted in response and ran his fingers through his short, dark hair;
"It took a while to get here, alright? There were a few delays…"
"Whatever, been having a bit of fun shooting those freaks anyway," Merle grinned and licked his dry lips.
"Ya shot more than that, we ran into some guy you managed to get too."
"Ha ha! Probably served the bastard right," he cackled as the pair made their way back across the roof to the ladder, "Wait…whose 'we'?"
Daryl sighed, he hadn't realised the slip up he had made, trust Merle to pick up on something like that.
"We have company, you don't know her…"
"Oh ho! A lady friend hey?" The grey haired man cackled, stumbling a little as he jumped off the ladder onto the platform below.
"It's definitely not like that man…You'll see," Daryl muttered, not wanting to reveal too much before he had to.
They made their way back through the jail; progress was slow as Merle had to support himself with one hand on the wall, his dehydration causing him to be extremely lightheaded.
Two zombies had gathered at the front entrance of the jail, but they reacted slowly when the Dixons rushed towards them. Merle succeeding in taking down the male undead efficiently despite his fatigued state, ramming the butt of his rifle into its skull multiple times in quick succession.
Weaving their way back through the pile up of vehicles, the Ford soon came into sight and Daryl saw Logan leaning casually against it. She was now dressed in black leggings tucked into a pair of knee high combat boots that the hunter hadn't seen before and a baggy grey shirt. She had tied her red hair into two scruffy looking pigtails and was inspecting a large knife that Daryl assumed she had looted during his absence.
"It's now or never," he murmured under his breath, pointing Merle in the direction of the truck, who was eyeing the young girl with a look of amusement and confusion.
"You're lucky man!" Logan hollered as greeting when she saw the two men approaching her, "I was just about to leave."
"Yeah yeah," Daryl replied, clapping a hand on her shoulder once he was near enough and standing next to her protectively, "Glad to see ya in one piece kid. Where'd ya get the boots?"
"Badass right?" She grinned, staring at them admiringly, "She won't be needing them anymore." Daryl nodded in understanding and breathed in sharply, preparing himself for the introduction that he now had to make. His brother was pulling a bottle of water from the truck bed, drinking it straight from its large plastic container and allowing the droplets to drip down his chin as he gulped heavily.
"Uh Merle," Daryl began, "This is Logan…" The older man merely grunted, not pausing from his drinking and tipping the remainder of the bottle over his red face and neck, "….Logan Lehane."
The bottle dropped to the ground with an almost inaudible 'thunk' and Merle turned to face them with a tortured expression, an array of emotions crossing his pale blue eyes.
"What did you just say?"
"Well hi there," the teenage announced, approaching her father confidently with no discernible emotion evident on her face, "I believe we share DNA." She extended her hand for him to shake, but Merle just stared at it in disgust, as if she had just offered him something offensive. She withdrew it quickly and shrugged, meeting Daryl's concerned gaze with a happy smile. Something in the older Dixon brother seemed to snap as he stepped around the girl and grabbed Daryl's arm roughly, yanking him away from the truck;
"What the fuck is this?!" He spat cruelly, flicking his head in Logan's direction as she went back to checking out her new weapon, showing no sign that she could hear the men talking.
"She was with me when all this went down, her mum asked me to watch her as a favour…What was I supposed to do, say no?"
"Yes! She ain't one of us! I know you've always had this little weakness for her and whatever. But you really want a kid tagging along with us? I'm not okay with that!"
"You've had seventeen years to get used to the idea she exists…"
"I've been pretty happy pretending that isn't the case. I mean, a fucking bastard girl? I've never wanted the kid in my life, and that ain't about to change now just because the world's gone to shit!" Merle's voice was layered with anger, but his defiance was weak compared to his normal standards, unable to put up a proper fight due to his poor health.
"First of all, that kid has already proved herself an asset more than once. And secondly, she's blood, whether ya like it or not. She's staying. Ya better get used to it." Daryl walked back to the truck and his niece, ending the conversation with Merle quickly, who stood shocked for a moment at his brother's refusal to back down. He grumbled a few times and reluctantly joined the pair again as Daryl ensured the truck was packed properly and Logan kept an eye out in case of an attack.
"Fine. The kid can stay, but we aren't playing happy families here! And I'm not sitting next to her in the truck," Merle muttered childishly.
"Guess she's driving then because yer not in any condition to." The hunter countered, loading his crossbow into the cab. Merle started to exclaim in protest, but a wave of nausea silenced him as he fell to his knees and retched, coughing up most of the water he had just consumed. Daryl sighed and helped him back up once he was done vomiting, his older brother accepting the support without comment.
Logan flashed them a grin and climbed into the driver's seat once the men had sat themselves on the bench seat, Daryl in the middle and Merle with his head pressed against the glass of the passenger side window, breathing heavily.
A few zombies wondered through the wreckage towards the truck at the sound of its spluttering engine and the young girl didn't hesitate in reversing into one who had made its way to the back of the vehicle, its skull making a sickening crunch when it was crushed under the weight of the back tyre. The driver giggled in delight and turned to the men next to her with a look of pure glee;
"Hold onto your hats boys, I drive fast," she cackled and soon Fontana was just a small reflection in the rear-view mirror as they sped back down the highway.

A/N: I know Merle seems a little OOC here, but it's only because he has sunstroke. Trust me, the Merle we all know and love (or hate depending haha) will be coming into the next chapter!