When Rick Grimes asked if they were going after Merle or the guns first, Daryl was ready to knock him on his ass. Cop number one back at the camp had been a self-important jackass and this one was shaping up to be just as bad. Didn't they know what the Georgia heat could do to a person?!

At least Rick was owning up to it and helping. It wasn't cause to forgive him yet, but it was a start.

With Glenn as their guide, the four would-be rescuers moved quickly and quietly through the city, but it was still well into the afternoon by the time they made it to the department store and Daryl was getting anxious. As he figured it, his brother was trapped on a roof for well over a day now with no shade, and no water. He relieved his tension a little by mocking a geek as he put an arrow in her head. He forced himself to keep calm and level-headed while they crept through the silent building. Glenn was in front again, peaking into the open stairwell door. He put his hand up and then his fingers to his lips.

The others didn't need to ask what the problem was. They could hear it.

"How many?" Rick mouthed.

Glenn's eyes were wide as he whispered, "At least a dozen."

Rick nodded and signalled for the others to backtrack down the hall.

Once they were a good distance away, Daryl hissed, "What the Hell're we going back for? We ain't got time to waste."

"We need to do this quiet... smart," answered Rick. He turned to Glenn. "Is there anything here we can use to club, or stab those things?"

"Wait here." Glenn ran off and came back minutes later carting a couple of baseball bats and a long, thin metal rod meant for getting clothes off high racks. He handed the bats to Rick and T-Dog and broke the end of the rod over his knee. The resulting jagged point looked wicked.

"Good," said Rick. "Now all we need is a plan."

Daryl rolled his eyes impatiently. "We go up there and kill 'em. Ain't hard."

"Sounds pretty hard to me," said T-Dog.

Daryl ignored the fact that the much larger black man now had a bat in one hand and heavy bolt cutters in the other. He got into T-Dog's face. "I wasn't talking to you."

T-Dog sighed and moved his face away from Daryl's angry gaze. "Easy, man; if the Walkers are still up there, then so's your brother, but we won't be doing him any favours if we all get bit."

Daryl swallowed and turned his eyes to the floor. Dammit, the big idiot had a point.

It was Glenn who piped up with a plan. "It's like you said back at the camp, T. That stairwell's narrow. If we get them to come to us, all we have to do is take out a couple in the front and the rest'll be tripping over them. We pick them off one... two at a time."

The four of them all nodded and Rick said, "Okay. We can do this."

They were back at the door looking up at the Walkers. Their presence did nothing to divert the dead's attention from the roof and T-Dog asked, "So... how do we get them down?"

Daryl huffed, filled his lungs, and hollered, "Y'ALL COME GET SOME FRESH MEAT, YOU SMELLY SONS OF BITCHES!"

The others stared at him, startled by the sudden volume in the tight space. Daryl shrugged and tilted an ear to the crowd that was now shuffling down the stairs. "It worked," he said simply.

He raised his crossbow. The geeks were a good few seconds from reaching the bottom of the stairs, so Daryl took that time to steady himself. He fired. The Walker in the lead went down, the body crumpling and rolling to a stop on the landing. The next two tripped over the corpse and he plunged his knife into the head of the one on his right.

Rick was on the left with his new bat. Three down.

Daryl grabbed his arrow and backed out of the way, letting T-Dog and Glenn take over. He readied his crossbow again and took another shot, then another. It only took a couple of minutes for the last geek to go down.

While Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog stood around panting, Daryl moved the corpses to clear a path. He took off up the stairs, screaming his brother's name. At the top he found that the chain had held fast, so at least there was that. He cut it, dropped the tool, raised his crossbow, and kicked the door open.

No Walkers.

Swiftly, but cautiously he stepped out onto the roof. It was sweltering up there; a hot, humid day at its worst with not a damn breeze in sight.

He didn't see his brother anywhere. His pulse now racing with worry, he made his way along the catwalk, his weapon still at the ready. As he came down the steps, his heart stopped dead.

There was his brother, curled up under the pipe in the only shade he could get. Merle's right arm was stuck out, his wrist caught at an awkward angle by the cuffs. The metal had chewed right into his inflamed skin and was caked with blood.

"Merle!" Daryl shouldered his crossbow and rushed to his brother.

No movement. No sign of life.

He slid over on his knees and reached for Merle's neck. He found a pulse, thank God, but it was weak and rapid. Growing frantic, he started to drag his unresponsive brother out from the pitiful shelter.

"Stop!"

Daryl tensed and looked up. Rick and the other were walking towards him and Rick raised the cutters Daryl had dropped. "It'll be better if we get the cuffs off first."

He was right, of course. Merle had done enough damage to his wrist already, and moving him around now would only make it worse.

Daryl nodded and said, "You best hurry up. He's alive, but he's burning hot."

He watched anxiously as his brother was freed by the very people who stuck him there in the first place. They snipped the chain and Merle's limp arm fell to the ground. Rick shot Daryl a warning look before carefully cutting the cuff itself. As soon as it was done, Daryl resumed his struggle to move his brother out into the open.

"Goddammit Merle," he grunted. "When'd your ass get so heavy?"

He snarled when the others stepped in to help, but held himself back from snapping at them.

He really did need the help.

Together they got Merle out and laying flat on his back. Then all except Daryl stood back and watched silently as he examined his brother's sorry state.

T-Dog was wide eyed and pale. He whispered, "It was only one day. I didn't think... I didn't think he'd be that bad."

Rick nodded. He could see Merle's chest rising and falling, but the man wasn't responding at all to Daryl's attempts to rouse him.

"Daryl?" said Rick.

Daryl shook his head. "His wrist's all infected," he said. "Probably gave him a fever to start, and with all this heat and humidity..." He bit his lip. Merle had a stash of meds in his motorcycle, which was back at camp; if they could get him there alive, he'd be okay... only Daryl couldn't say as much. There was Meth and shit mixed in there and the others didn't know about any of it. They'd probably be rightly pissed. Instead, he said, "We need to cool him down, get a ton of water in him."

"I have water!" Glenn slipped his backpack from his shoulders and took out two plastic bottles. He helped Daryl sit Merle up, and handed over the first bottle.

While Daryl tried to get his brother to drink, Glenn uncapped the second bottle and poured it over Merle's head.

The result was the last thing any of them expected: the nearly comatose man spluttered to life with a moan of, "Son of a bitch..." His fevered blue eyes fell on Glenn, and he lunged for the young man like a rabid dog.

Luckily Daryl's instincts were top notch. He grabbed his brother around the middle and held him back. "Merle! Calm down!"

"Little shit's still got in it for me!" he wheezed. He tried to claw his way out of Daryl's grip and crawl towards Glenn, who was watching all of this in horror. "Did that on purpose! I'll kill 'em!"

Rick and T-Dog joined in, and together the three of them managed to pin Merle against the pipe. His reaction was to try and kick Rick and frantically yell, "Let me go! Don't cuff me again, man. Please, no... please you can't leave me up here! Not again... not again..."

Rick kept his face impassive, but it was like a punch to the gut. He looked to T-Dog, who looked like he actually had been punched.

Daryl shouldered both of them out of the way, put a hand on his brother's neck, and forced Merle's brow against his own. "No one's leaving you, brother," he said softly. "You gotta calm down. You ain't well."

Merle's heart was fluttering like a bird and his breathing was rapid, but he seemed to relax at Daryl's words. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he muttered. He was saying other stuff too, but Daryl would be damned if he could understand any of it. He was seriously worried. Never in his years of dealing with Merle's shit had he seen his brother like this.

He released Merle and gestured for the half full water bottle Glenn was still clutching. "Please tell me y'all got more of that," he said as the Asian handed it over.

"Yeah," Glenn answered weakly.

Daryl snorted. This kid seemed to have everything. "Think you can rustle up a shit ton of ice, too?" he asked half jokingly and half hopefully.

Glenn smiled and looked a bit more at ease. "No, sorry. Fresh out."

"Damn. 'Cause that's about what this asshole needs."

He tipped some water into Merle's mouth and that's all it took for the dehydrated man to grab the bottle and guzzle it down.

Rick frowned. Daryl was right. The best way to treat a heatstroke victim was to get them into a tub of ice water, and they didn't even have cold water.

At least what they did have seemed to do the trick for the moment. Merle peered around at the four of them with more lucid eyes and said, "Y'all took your sweet fucking time."

Daryl half grimaced and half smirked. "'Least we came back for you. Almost didn't bother," he joked. This was normal. They were getting back to normal.

But Merle didn't bite back like he was supposed to. "Shut up, Daryl. You shut up..." His words lacked their edge and he turned a shade paler under his sunburns, like the thought that his brother might have left him terrified him.

Daryl didn't know what to say. This wasn't Merle. It was like his brother was broken, but that was impossible. Nothing... nothing could break Merle.

Rick interrupted his thoughts by saying, "We need to get inside, out of the sun." He turned to Glenn and pointed to the other access door. "What's down there?"

Glenn shrugged. "Offices mostly, some kitchens."

"Is it secure?"

"There's Walkers down there, but there's no giant, busted out windows."

Rick looked between Daryl and T-Dog. The latter was the physically stronger of the two, but the former was the one with the crossbow. Deciding their next course in his mind, Rick said, "I'll grab Dale's tools. Glenn, you take one of the bats and stay up front with Daryl. T-Dog, you help Merle."

T-Dog looked willing, but Merle said, "Oh hell no! King Klutz, here? I'll fucking walk on my own."

Daryl didn't like the idea either. "He's my brother. I am the only one here I trust to keep him alive, 'specially considering how y'all handled that before."

"I said I'll walk on my own." Merle attempted to prove his point, but between his dizziness and the fact that he hadn't used his legs in over twenty-four hours, he immediately fell back onto his ass. He leaned his head on the pipe and sighed. "Damn..."

Daryl was about to say something, but Rick was on him. "I understand," said the cop. "Really I do, but your crossbow is the only ranged weapon we have that won't draw every Walker for miles."

Daryl's eyes narrowed and he sneered. "Man, fuck my crossbow."

At this Merle cracked a wicked grin and started cackling. Even Glenn and T-Dog had to struggle no to laugh.

With the tension effectively broken, Daryl rolled his eyes and gave his brother a gentle kick in the leg. "Shut up, you filthy minded old pervert."

A little more at ease, Rick said, "Daryl? We don't have a lot of time here."

"Fine! Whatever!" Daryl pointed at T-Dog and growled, "You drop my brother, I drop you."

T-Dog put his hands up. "I'm not dropping anybody."

Merle complained loudly the instant T-Dog had an arm under his shoulder and kept it up the whole way down the stairwell, mostly about the man's clumsiness. He shut up when Daryl threatened to use him as Walker bait. He saw flashes of a car, of the Dead pawing at it, of all the times he nearly got bit and all the times he watched other people get eaten alive. He hadn't been afraid of them in a long time, but in his current state...

T-Dog noticed the sudden silence and felt Merle shudder. He looked down at the man, concerned. "You okay?"

Merle snapped out of it and glared back, daring his glorified walking stick to say anything else.

With a sigh, T-Dog shifted his weight and concentrated on keeping close to the others.

Merle stayed quiet after that.

When he was finally laid down in one of the more secure offices, his eyes were glazed and he was breathing rapidly.

Daryl was on him in an instant. He put a hand on either side of Merle's face and choked down a curse of frustration. "His temperature's right back up again." At this rate his brother was going to slip into a coma.

Glenn offered up the last of his water bottles, and Rick said, "You and T-Dog stay here and do what you can. Glenn and I'll scout ahead, see if we can't find more water."

Daryl barely registered this, and barely noticed them leave. He started removing Merle's vest and tank top, ignoring his brother's weak protests and attempts to swat him off. He went to work undoing his brother's belt.

T-Dog locked the door to the office and turned to watch him. "What are you doing?"

"It'll be easier to cool 'em down with his clothes off," Daryl answered simply. "Come help me with his pants."

When T-Dog hesitated, Daryl rolled his eyes. "He's got fucking underwear on. Now come 'ere."

"I got a list of things I never wanna see, and Merle Dixon's undies are damn near the top." Even as T-Dog said it, he moved to help.

Together they got Merle's boots and pants off and sat the half-conscious man up so he could drink.

T-Dog froze when he got a good look at Merle's back and the old scars that criss-crossed it. He looked to Daryl, whose face was scrunched up with suppressed rage, and wisely chose not to say anything. Instead he uncapped the last bottle and handed it to the furious hunter.

"Thanks," said Daryl. He wouldn't meet T-Dogs eyes. He'd seen the scars before (which Merle didn't know), but it was easy to forget that his loud, overconfident brother had been through the same shit he had. Now he'd gone and let out the secret to a complete stranger.

He distracted himself by pouring a small amount of water over Merle's head and shoulders, and couldn't help a smile. Just like before, Merle started cursing.

"Fucking hell, Daryl? Why am I naked?!"

With a smirk, Daryl shoved the bottle in his face and said, "Drink." It was an order.

Merle eyed his little brother warily, and did as he was told. He was feeling a little betrayed and a lot exposed.

No one needed to say it... everyone in that room was extremely uncomfortable.

All three of them jumped at the knock at the door. "I got it," said T-Dog as he stood and unlocked it, letting Glenn in.

The Asian stopped and stared at the sight waiting for him. "Whoa... It got weird in here." He got over it quickly and grinned as he strained to lift up a full 5-gallon jug from a water cooler. "Look what I found." He proudly hauled it into the room and set it next to the brothers.

Merle frowned at it and up at Glenn. "You try and dump that on me and I'll wring your little chow mien noodle neck."

"Wow... you really work hard at that," Glenn shot back. "And it's more like ramyun, seeing as I'm Korean."

"Whatever." Merle wasn't going to admit he didn't know what the hell ramyun was.

Sure enough, as soon as the cap was off the jug, a generous portion of it was poured over Merle by Daryl and T-Dog. Glenn stayed out of it. He picked up that Merle was being extra hostile to him for some reason and he didn't want to piss off the violent redneck any further.

Merle was wetter, but he wasn't any colder. Still, he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. He was trying to hold it together and hide it down like he always did, but he kept slipping.

What the hell was he doing here? What was going on? It was like someone had hit the reset button, and now here he was with a T-Dog who wasn't dead, a Rick who wasn't out of his gourd, a Glenn who didn't hate him, and a Daryl who wasn't ashamed to be his brother.

...And he had his hand. He clutched at it, stared at it, his mind travelling far away to his other life where he was supposed to be. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop; to wake up and discover he was hallucinating as he bled out on the floor of that shack. Or... was all that a delusion brought on by heatstroke?

He snapped out of it and found his brother's concerned eyes boring into his own. "Merle? You with me?"

"Yeah..." He looked up, and there was Rick standing there holding a first aid kit.

"We need to take care of your wrist," said the cop.

But damn did this feel real, the nausea, the burn of the water on his reddened skin, the sting of antiseptic. His eyes grew wet with unshed tears as his brother dressed his wrist.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do or believe... but he prayed to God this was real.