Warning: Merle being a jerk.

Three Days

Over the winter, the group had collected so many maps, stuffing them all in an old, dusty, fraying duffel bag that once held a stash of guns. Maggie had been in charge of these maps, having a good eye for navigating most of these rural areas. From the warden's office, they even managed to dig up a map of Coweta County, the area surrounding the prison. They laid out multiple maps on the tables in the common room, wanting to have as many bases covered as they could.

This was day two. It was time to start looking.

Michonne picked up a pencil. She drew a circle around the area of some stores. "That's where Layla left the formula," she explained.

Maggie nodded. "And she went on foot. No wonder it took 'til morning for you to find us. That's a full day's walk."

"I don't get it," Michonne said. "You have cars. Why wouldn't she just take one? She might've been able to…avoid the mess she's in, and get back here quickly." Other than for the location of the shops, she had yet to tell all of them anything else, trying to maintain secrecy for Layla as much as she could.

"She tries not to use cars when she can," Glenn answered. He was sitting on the steps, readying a few days worth of supplies, with T-Dog's help. "Sometimes it makes her all-"

"It's Layla's business, Glenn," Daryl snapped from where he was hovering over the table.

He winced. "Right, yeah. My bad."

"She was also gonna do some hunting," T-Dog added. "And she prefers going on foot anyway."

Michonne raised a brow. "How can this girl be smart and impractical at the same time?"

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled. "You don't know shit about her."

The room fell quiet for a bit, knowing that Daryl's nerves were beyond frayed. He promised Rick that he'd get some rest, which he had. He also promised that he'd get his emotions under control, which he was…sort of accomplishing. It was like how he was at the quarry. Closed off, clipped tone, and sarcasm that almost bordered on insulting. But believe it or not, he was staying focused.

He gave orders to a select few people, mostly to find maps and to take inventory in order to plan for a trip that could last a few days. Rick stepped back to let him, not only because Daryl needed to be the one to do all of that, but also because Rick was still a little out of it. He refused to openly admit it, but he was exhausted. Exhausted about too many things. Daryl needed to take the helm, for both of their sakes.

Daryl was going to take Maggie and Glenn with him. Rick wasn't able to convince him to bring Michonne, not with that leg injury of hers. Daryl didn't want to risk a friend of Layla's being killed. So, it was a small party while the rest of the group stayed behind to look after things. The three of them intended to head out by noon today.

"We wanna help."

Everyone looked up at Tyreese and Sasha, who were entering the block, with Carl leading them. They had made their way into the prison sometime last night through a glaring breach in the tombs. It was great that they now knew where to start patching things up down there. However, Tyreese, Sasha, and the two others in their group were complete strangers.

They seemed nice enough, but Rick was on edge. He shoved away from the wall, firmly took Carl by the shoulder, and pulled him aside. "They need to stay in their own block," he hissed to him. "We talked about this-"

"We'll pitch in," Tyreese interrupted as politely as he could. "We pull our weight. We always do."

Rick frowned at him. "You need to rest up. Stick to your own block, and then we'll decide what to do with y'all."

Daryl tuned them out, trying to get back to work. Many months ago, before the winter, when talking about the prison, Layla had mentioned a Tyreese, and how he and Glenn led her to the prison during her first 'go-round', as she calls it. Daryl didn't precisely know how important this guy was to her, but he couldn't think of a reason for them not to stay, provided they keep an eye on them. He'd leave it up to Layla as to whether these new people stayed permanently.

He stared down at the map, as if her exact location, where she was right now, would jump out at him. She'd come back. Either that, or they'd find her. He had to find her. He needed her back. Between Rick being close to yet another mental breakdown, all the new people suddenly joining their group, and him just not knowing whether she was even safe or not…!

He ran his hands down his face, nails scraping his skin as he struggled to rein it in. But he would, for her sake. Not only did they need Layla to help keep everything together, but he needed Layla to keep himself together.

He heard the main entrance to the cell block open, but he didn't look up, not wanting anyone else to tell him that they'd yet to see Layla come through the gates.

There was a pause, and then boots stomping down the steps. "Where the hell's my red carpet? My feet are achin' somethin' fierce here!"

Every head in the room popped up at that loud, obnoxious, too-familiar voice.

Merle stood there, arms spread wide, with a shit-eating grin. "Honey, I'm home!"

Daryl finally tore his eyes away from the map, and ran. His brother met him at the bottom step, and they threw their arms around each other. Merle chuckled loudly, almost a relieved sound.

The rest of the room slowly got to their feet, eyes wide as they gathered around the siblings cautiously. It wasn't Daryl they were worried about. Those that knew Merle knew to keep a distance, and those that didn't followed everyone else's lead, sensing that things were a little off.

After a couple claps to each other's backs and shoulders, the brothers let go. Just because he could, Merle shoved Daryl's shoulder, causing him to roll his eyes. Merle looked around at everyone else and spread his arms again, the sarcastic smile coming back. "Well, no need to be unceremonious. Come on! Line up! Keep the hugs rollin'!"

Everyone stayed where they were.

He scoffed. "Pfft. Some welcoming committee y'all are."

Glenn was the first to speak up. "You actually made it."

"Damn right I did," he said. "You think some shitty little handcuffs can keep me? Naw. Just ask any cop." He looked at Rick. "Ain't that right, Officer?"

Rick was expressionless, staring Merle down from where he stood. His eyes flickered to the prosthetic, specifically the blade that was attached to it.

Merle chuckled wickedly, waving it in the air a little. "Oh, you like that, huh? Wouldn't be the end of the world without a little grit, now would it?"

"How did you find us," Rick asked.

"A little birdie told me." He brought out a set of prison keys and tossed them to his brother.

Daryl caught them. When it sunk in, he clutched them tightly until his knuckles turned white. "You saw her out there," he asked hopefully. "Where is she?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I saw her, alright. And we got work to do, but, uh…" He waltzed over to one of the tables, glossing over the maps. "What y'all got goin' on here?"

T-Dog stepped forward, his hand on his gun holster. "Why don'tcha tells us where Layla is, first?"

Merle stepped back from the table, palm and prosthetic raised, and smiling amusedly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, homie. I ain't here to cause trouble. For you, that is. Naw, I'm savin' that for someone else."

T-Dog was glowering. "You somehow found where we live, are surrounded by people who left you on that roof…and you don't wanna cause trouble?"

"He's right," Glenn added. "I don't… You shouldn't be here."

"Yeah, well, he's here now," Daryl snapped. "So suck it up." Turning his attention back to his brother, he jangled the keys, a frantic sound. "Where is she, Merle? She safe?"

"Glenn and T are right," Rick said, taking out his own set of keys. "Merle, you can say whatever you need to say, especially if it'll help us find Layla, but it's gonna be behind bars."

"Hey, hey, hold up now," Merle said. "I'm just followin' orders. And 'sides, I ain't gonna waste my energy bein' pissy at y'all. Those walkers I took down escapin' Atlanta? They're the ones who got the receivin' end of it." He leaned over a table. "I don't hold grudges, 'specially ones that could last a whole goddamn winter. I got bigger fish to fry." He looked down and scowled. "Like gettin' these outa the way for a start. We don't need 'em." He started rolling up the maps.

Rick leaned over the table and put his hand flat on a map to stop him. Once again, to everyone's extreme confusion, Merle dropped what he was doing, held his arms up in a show of peace, and took a single step back. That arrogant grin was still plastered on his face, but there was no aggression.

Rick stared at him, analyzing him closely. "You haven't answered any of our questions."

Merle shrugged and lowered his arms. "Fire away, Officer."

"How did you find us? And where did you get those keys?"

His only response was, "Layla."

T-Dog was shaking his head. "Makes no sense. Why would Layla tell you where we are, and not even come with you?"

"'Cause she couldn't come with me. She's got her own problems. And this shit-" He gestured to the maps. "-ain't gonna help her none. Well…" He paused, thumbing the corner of a particular map. "…This one might come in handy. Dependin'."

"What do you mean," Daryl asked. "What's goin' on?"

"You ever hear of the Governor?" When Daryl straightened up and his eyes went wide with apprehension, Merle continued. "Looks like you have."

"Yeah, Layla knows who he is," he snarled, gripping his crossbow strap tightly. "She with this prick right now?"

Merle shook his head. "She escaped. I helped her."

"That means she's dead," Michonne spat from her side of the room.

Daryl pointed a finger at her, anger flaring in his eyes. "Shut up. She ain't!"

Merle laughed boisterously at her. "Well, look at this. The samurai lives! How'd you end up here?"

"None of your damn business!"

"Oh, come on, now," he said, his voice a mix of mockery and placating, if that was even possible. "I ain't got an issue with you no more. All water under the bridge. 'Sides, what's a little bullet wound between friends, huh?"

"Go fuck yourself," she snarled.

"You'll fit right in here," he commented, and nudged his brother's shoulder. "Won't she, Daryl?"

"Enough," Rick said, putting himself in front of Michonne. "What is going on? Who's the Governor?"

"Runs a town called Woodbury," Merle explained. "Large settlement of people."

"Negotiable on the outside," Daryl added. "Psychopathic on the inside. That's what Layla said. He's bad news."

Rick ran a hand down his face. "And now he's after her?"

"Like I said, she's dead."

Daryl almost stomped over to Michonne, but got cut off by Rick. "And I told you shut the hell up," he exclaimed.

Michonne shook her head slowly. There was still anger in her eyes at Merle being here, but she also managed to somehow exude sympathy. "Nobody leaves Woodbury and survives. If she's escaped, then they'll go after her. And they will gun…her…down."

Merle rolled his eyes. "I bet you're a peach at parties."

"Enough!" Rick's voice bellowed through the room. It was a command, for sure, but everyone heard the exhaustion in that single work. And that's what made them keep quiet. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "E…nough. All of you. We ain't gettin' anywhere. Not until you start talkin'." He pointed at Merle. "Now, what exactly are we up against here?"

"Can I sit?" Not waiting for an answer, Merle pulled up a stool, and all but sat in the center of the room. "Layla's currently up shit creek," he began. "But not without a paddle. Naw, she's got it under control, on her end. Now we just gotta figure out ours. You see, the Governor's a relentless bastard. Would do anything to keep his precious town afloat. He's killed other groups for supplies, shot people just for tryin' to leave, and the list goes on and on. If he finds this place, full of people, supplies for days, strong walls…" He trailed off to let his words sink in.

Another silence fell over the common room, filled with apprehension and concern.

"So where's Layla right now, then," Daryl asked. "And just…" He shook his head, brows knitted together. "…Don't make me ask it again."

Merle clasped his shoulder in a rare show of comfort. "She's alive, brother. Alive and annoying the shit outa some idiots." He smirked. "Ain't that what she does best?"

Rick tapped one of the tables, just to get his attention. "You said she's handling things on her end. What does that mean?"

"Wild goose chase," he answered. "She's got half the Governor's guards hightailin' it after her. Not only to get them away from the Governor, but also keepin' 'em away from this here prison."

"Kinda like what she did durin' the winter," Daryl commented, looking at Glenn, who nodded in response.

"So what does that mean for us," Rick asked, all strategy now. "Where do we come in? Does the Governor even know about the prison?"

"Not yet," Merle said. "And we wanna keep it that way. Layla's dealt with this guy before. If he ain't stopped, he'll unleash hell. She's buyin' us time to come up with somethin'." He held up three fingers. "She's givin' us three days before she gives those guards the slip."

Daryl could finally let out a breath, one that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, causing Merle to shake his shoulder again. Okay. Layla was alive, somewhere. And now that he knew the specifics of what was going on, and that she had a solid plan like she always did…They were getting somewhere. Now they could get to work, and eventually bring her home.

"Now I hate to say it," Merle suddenly said. "But Samurai's got a point. Nobody escapes the town in one piece. Those guards I sicced on her? They're dumber than a box o' rocks, but they know how to shoot. We need to get rid of the Governor so Layla's time ain't bein' wasted."

Daryl scoffed. "They won't ever catch her."

"No," Merle said. "But we still wanna think fast here."

"Wait a minute," Rick said, eyes narrowing. "You set them on her?"

"I been livin' in that town for months now," Merle grumbled. "It's like I told Layla. We gotta make things look believable. I'm expected to be back any hour now. Even more of a reason to make this quick."

"So what next," Daryl asked. "What does she need us to do?"

"Well now, all we gotta do is kill the son of a bitch. Get to him, before he gets to us. Otherwise, we'll never stop him and he'll start breakin' down these pretty walls. There are still guards on the inside, but they're the ones I trust. They'll back me up. They know exactly what the Governor's like and would rather see him dead anyway." Merle paused, straightening up in his chair. "Thing is? It's a town full of people. Women, children, even pets. Most of 'em good folks. The Governor's the only issue. With Layla takin' care of his loyal dogs, we now have our openin'."

Rick nodded slowly. Stepping back a little to look at everyone, he addressed the entire room. "Any questions so far?"

There were some incoherent murmurs, and the occasional glare being sent in Merle's direction. This wasn't indecisiveness, not if Layla was the one running the show. This was just apprehension, all directed at the guy who was delivering her message and instructions.

Tyreese spoke up. "How credible is this Layla exactly? Me and my group, we kill if we have to, but if it can be avoided…"

Sasha nodded. "You live in an actual prison. You could keep him prisoner."

Rick frowned deeply, almost glaring at them. "And then do what with him?"

Daryl looked at them, his face serious and almost somber. "You don't get it. Layla told me 'bout this guy. One of the worst people she's ever met. I ain't about to let some maniac take her home away from her." He shook his head slowly. "I ain't gonna let her go through that again. And god knows what else she even lost that day."

"In other words," Tyreese said slowly. "This is personal for her."

"Makes me wonder how clearly she's thinking," Sasha commented.

Daryl scowled harshly and was about to argue with them, but Rick interrupted that. "If Layla's sayin' this is what needs to be done, then I have no reason to doubt her," he said, mainly to Tyreese and Sasha. "She doesn't kill for sport. She prides herself on keeping it together. You can have whatever opinion you like, but just know this... There is no better person to plan this out. We're goin' with it."

There were murmurs around the room again, this time in agreement, with some of the tension dissipating. Sasha and Tyreese looked at each other, feeling more anxious by the second.

Merle snickered at them, and then looked at his brother. "Hey, did Layla ever mention this bastard keeps a little girl walker locked up in a closet?"

Daryl grimaced harshly. "Jesus," he muttered.

The rest of the group also had looks of disgust on their faces.

"You're kidding," Sasha demanded. "Why would he…That's just…all kinds of wrong."

Merle nodded. "Right? The guy's losin' his mind every day. Really puts this shit into perspective, huh?"

"Yeah," Tyreese nodded resolutely. "It really does. So…What's the next step?"

Now that everyone had their heads in the game, Rick turned his attention back to Merle. "What's Layla thinkin'?"

"She's leavin' the rest up to us. Not only did she want me to stop y'all from tryin' to find her, but she also wants your input." Then, Merle chuckled a little. "Except, uh…I don't really care about that part."

Rick glared harshly at him. "Might be news to you, but we don't really care for your opinion."

Merle tilted his head challengingly. "Oh? Well, look who's got sass again! Officer Friendly finally got a sense of humor. I don't care 'cause I already got it covered. Y'all don't even need to get your hands dirty." He nudged Daryl with his elbow. "Not even you, little brother."

Daryl's raised a brow at him. "What'cha got in mind?"

"I slit the Governor's throat," he said, as if it was the most obvious and easiest thing to do. "I report back to him this afternoon, let him know those guards won't stop 'til they find Layla. While he's distracted enough by all this bullshit goin' on in his own town, I find the right moment to move in on him."

He stood up, shoving the stool aside. He made a show of flexing and stretching his arms. "After that, I think I can make a pretty convincin' argument to the rest of the town on what happened. They'll listen to me." He pointed towards the ceiling. "This place you got? Bit of a fixer-upper, but it's got better defenses than Woodbury. Better place to live."

Rick frowned. "I don't know if I want an entire town full of strangers inside my walls."

"Layla vouched for 'em," he said. "She knows as well as I do that they're good people."

Rick didn't say much to that. "I'll take that into consideration. But I still don't get it."

Merle scowled. "Get what? I just spelled it all out for you!"

"Why you're doing this," Rick clarified. "Why help us? Why help Layla?"

He shrugged. "Told y'all, I don't hold grudges. Be a waste of my breath with people like you. And – Now wait a minute!" He suddenly held up a finger, a deep frown set on his face. "What the hell do you mean? Why wouldn't I help Layla? She's family."

Glenn spoke up, his tone dubious. "You…consider Layla to be family."

"I ain't buyin' that," T-Dog shook his head. "She's kicked your ass too many times."

Merle just laughed at that. "Well, she wouldn't be a Dixon if she weren't a good fighter, now would she?"

"Doesn't matter," Michonne spoke up. She had yet to take her eyes off Merle during all this, glaring daggers at him. "He can't be trusted. He's the Governor's lapdog."

Merle took a dangerous step forward. "Watch your mouth there, missy. Ain't nothin' more important to me than family. And I don't take orders from that prick no more."

"So who are you taking orders from, then," Rick asked.

"Jesus Christ," Merle suddenly exclaimed, turning towards Daryl. "Why the hell you with these people if they're still ridin' the short bus?"

Daryl glared a warning at him. "Shut up, man."

Merle looked at everyone else again. "I'm talkin' 'bout your esteemed leader."

Rick's brows came together. "I didn't give you any orders."

Merle paused, as if not hearing that correctly. He looked Rick up and down. Then, his shoulders started jolting as he chuckled, finding one hell of a joke somewhere. He pointed at Rick. "I ain't talkin' 'bout you. Naw. I'm talkin' 'bout Layla."

Rick wasn't amused. In fact, he was neutral if anything, not all that perturbed. "She ain't the leader, I am. She has no interest in the position. She's made that quite clear."

Merle shrugged. "Coulda fooled me. The way she walks and talks. The moment we got to Woodbury, I could already see them wheels in her head turnin'." He scoffed. "Anybody else able to come up with a plan this simple?" He didn't wait for a response to that question. "'Sides, friend," he said specifically to Rick, stalking closer to him. "You don't look too good."

As he spoke, Rick stared right back at him, hands slowly curling into fists at his sides.

Daryl straightened up, ready to get in between them if needed. "Shut the hell up, man," he growled at his brother.

"Naw, just look at him," Merle sneered. "Look at them eyes. How tired he looks. Whats-a-matter, sheriff? Thought you'd be sleepin' like a king inside these cozy walls. Nobody fluff your pillow this morning? That it?"

Trying to stop any fight before it could happen, Daryl's hand shot out to grab Merle's shoulder. "Will you quit for one goddamn second?"

Merle elbowed Daryl sharply in the ribs, making him stumble back and away.

When Rick refused to take the bait, Merle started chuckling again, his smile taking up his entire face. "Aw, what happened, son? Is it your wife? You finally find out she was knockin' boots with your best fr-"

The punch echoed through the room, and Merle tumbled to the ground, clutching the side of his face.

Some of the group got to their feet, but didn't move beyond that, unsure of what they should even do. They didn't know how to intervene with this. For those that had known the Dixons since the start, they knew not to get in between them. This was different, though. This wasn't just an annoyed brotherly scuffle.

Merle rubbed at his eye and jaw, and then he looked up. Daryl was looming over him, his hand still balled into a fist, with a little blood dripping from his knuckles. He glared down at Merle, keeping him on the ground with just a stare.

"What the hell, man," Merle demanded.

Daryl's lip curled into a sneer. "You gonna keep runnin' your mouth? Like you always do?"

"What's it to you?!"

"It ain't how we do things! That's what!"

Merle spat out some blood. "And who's fault is that"

Daryl all but snarled. "Who do you think? Now get your ass off the ground." Without waiting for Merle to react, he grabbed his brother's wrist and yanked him upright. Then, he clasped his brother's shoulder, hard enough to make him pay attention for once in his life. "You wanna keep losin' people?"

Merle only glared at him.

"Ain't that what you told Layla," Daryl continued. "It don't work bein' without people?"

"Shut up."

"No." He shook his head, his eyes harsh and boring into his brother's. "Because it don't work. Not anymore. We survived this long for a reason, Merle. Now figure your shit out, or I'ma figure it out for you!"

The air was still. No one even dared to breathe. Everyone watched from the sidelines. No one had ever heard Daryl talk like this to Merle. Neither had Merle himself, it seemed. He stared at Daryl, not once looking away and not blinking.

Much to everyone's dismay, the usual smile reappeared on Merle's face. But the laugh he made was something different. It wasn't arrogant or snarky, not even domineering or aggressive. It...almost sounded astonished.

Maybe even a little impressed.

Daryl's glare turned to that of annoyance as Merle slung an arm around his shoulders. "Boy, you ever talk to me like that again, I'll whoop your ass. But, uh…" He laughed again, the very same one, as if still processing what just happened. "…But I think we oughta get back to work here. Me and the Governor are due for a meetin'."

Merle looked at Rick, whose hands were still clenched at his sides. "Oh come on, sourpuss," he said with a sheepish grin that still managed to be arrogant. "You know me. I'm a shit-stirrer. Ain't mean nothin' by it. You wanna make this place a home, don't you?"

Without a word, Rick nodded tensely.

"Then we best get to it."

"You will," Rick clarified. "You're gonna bring the Governor's body back here when you're done. And when Layla comes back, I'm gonna have her confirm everything. Make sure it all went as it should."

Merle nodded. "You got it…boss."

"And that's another thing," Rick continued, walking towards him until they were inches apart. "Before you leave today…You and I are gonna have a nice long chat about how we run things around here." After a moment, he took a single step back. "We'll also prep a cell for you, too. Daryl said you've been to prison before, so it shouldn't be too unfamiliar to you."

Once again, another impressed laugh. "Well, look at that," Merle said. "Layla ain't the only one who's got a pair."

Noon rolled around. Daryl was out by the main gate, doing maintenance on the bike while Merle and Rick talked in private. Truthfully, he was just fidgeting right now, passing the time and thinking about what he told Merle, and about why he'd punched him so hard.

Layla once said, many months ago, that this group would become important him, that he would even need them. And she was right. Daryl now had people to take care of, all of which relied on him for so much. He wasn't about to let his brother compromise that.

Keeping his eyes locked on one of the pipes, he stayed underneath the motorcycle when he heard his brother approached. Merle stopped beside him, and judging by the direction his boots were pointing, he was staring out at the fields.

Silent. Not even a sarcastic cuss.

Daryl decided to break the silence. "What did Rick have to say?"

"Like I said," Merle answered vaguely. "He grew some balls."

Daryl listened to the tone in his voice, and decidedly shuffled out and stood up. He did this slowly, taking his time, until he stood beside him. Merle was expressionless. Neutral, but not anxious or tense.

Daryl scrutinized him. "You stayin' or what?"

"Plan to," he answered. "But he's got conditions."

"Well, I figured that much."

"The Governor for starters, but that's a given."

Daryl nodded, eyes narrowing. "So. You gonna play nice then? Or you just gonna keep bein' yourself?"

He chuckled, but with no hint of humor. "You and Layla need to get outa my business for once and let me handle shit." He halfheartedly swatted Daryl's shoulder. "Hey, you know your girl's somethin' else, right?"

Daryl looked out at the fences, trying to hide a smile. "Ain't gotta tell me that. She still finds ways to drive me crazy."

"Ain't what I mean." Merle made a vague twirling motion with his finger. "You see. The Governor needs to die. We all know that. I've seen him mow down lives like they were nothin'. Did you know Layla didn't even wanna kill him? Girl had a dozen plans, all with the same outcome, but she still wasn't happy 'bout any of it."

Daryl looked at him as if it were obvious. "She don't kill for pleasure. She kills when she's got to."

He nodded. "And she knew she would. Not like she was hesitatin' or nothin'. Ain't the first person she's ever had to kill, I see that much."

"So then why're you doin' it," Daryl asked.

"'Cause I can," he replied simply. "'Cause I wanna." He shrugged. "I'll do that much for her."

Another smile tugged at the corner of Daryl's lips. "Knew you cared about her."

Merle only patted his shoulder in response. Letting him go, he squatted next to the bike. "Ain't this lookin' beautiful." He waved his prosthetic. "Not like I can ride anymore. Can't even twist the damned throttle. Hey, lemme have a listen."

Daryl swung his leg over the bike, gave it a kick start, and the engine roared to life.

Merle grinned. "Listen to that. Sounds like you're takin' care of it."

"It was Layla this time," Daryl explained. "She did the most recent maintenance."

He flexed his jaw. "Bet'cha miss her."

As soon as he said that, Daryl turned the ignition off. He kept a tight grip on the handlebars, his knuckles almost white. He looked down the field towards the outer gate. The same one she'd left through to go on that damned run.

He dismounted the bike. "Been four days since I last seen her." He stood beside his brother again, letting his growing bangs hang in front of his eyes. "All I can think of is her runnin' around the woods with them assholes on her tail. With no back up."

Merle scoffed. "She don't need back up, brother. You and I both know she's fine. She's built to be out there, raisin' all hell."

Daryl didn't disagree, but he still shook his head. "Don't make me worry any less, though."

On that note, Merle walked away towards one of the vehicles. He opened the driver's side door and got in. "Three more days, little brother," he specified for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Three days."

Merle drove down the gravel driveway, while Daryl followed on foot, opening and closing gates as necessary. He stayed by the outer gate, long after his brother drove out of sight. His hands were in his pockets, his fingertips feeling the edges of Layla's iPod and the note she'd left.

Three days.

Three days to allow Layla to mess with those guards. Three days to give Merle his chance to kill the Governor. Three days until Daryl and Rick would go to Woodbury to greet all of the residents that lived there. In three days time…

…Things were going to change. Hopefully for the better. For everyone.

All because of a plan that his asshole brother and his eccentric girlfriend came up with.

After all, crazy was the only thing that worked nowadays.