Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

a/n: Writers block is a purely evil curse!

...

Low voices reached across to him as Merle padded softly across the prison floor. He paused briefly, his eyes low and quickly scanning the room, before pushing his back to the wall, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down the corridor. They hadn't seen or heard him, but he heard them all to well-he'd heard the determination in that asshole sheriffs voice.

He huffed quietly to himself as he heard Rick tell Daryl in a low conspiratorial voice to keep an eye on him, as if Merle actually needed to be fuckin' watched over, and least of all by his own goddamned baby brother. Indignation clawed through him as he heard Daryl agree...as he heard his own blood say; 'I got him'.

He leaned further back into the wall. Huh. So Rick was going on a supply run, and taking the black bitch and his boy with him. It mildly surprised him that Rick would feel comfortable to let his guard down enough to trust her around his precious boy. Even though the kid seemed capable Merle mused, the little shit could handle a gun and a knife well enough. Rick wasn't reckonin' on Michonne though, she was sneaky, he'd seen that back at Woodbury. He pursed his lips, wondering what Rick would think if he'd actually seen her and her damned pets, and hell...even that biter-gram as inspired as it was, that she'd left as a message back in the woods.

Lifting his right arm, he cradled his prosthesis against his chest, his fingers running smoothly down the knife, before closing and grasping firmly about the blade. He listened warily to Rick's heavy precise booted tread, heard the soft rubber heeled thump of Hershel's crutches move away before he pushed himself off the wall and stepped out into the corridor. He barely glanced as Daryl looked across, instead focusing on just moving towards the heavy prison outer door.

"Merle," Daryl called out, "Wait up." He watched as Daryl jogged up to him, concern on his face. "What's up, man?"

"Ain't nothin' up," Merle turned and pasted a grin on his face as he met his brothers confused gaze.

"Yeah, sure." Daryl looked him up and down, his hand twiddling at the strap of his crossbow. " 'M going hunting, ya still coming?"

Merle roughly draped his good arm across Daryl's shoulder, pulling him closer, "Wouldn't miss it for the world, little brother."

...

They pushed their way stealthily through the undergrowth, and Merle studied Daryl closely. There was a confidence that he could see, and it hadn't been there before, he was damned sure of it, and Merle felt a pang that the time he had been away from him-his brother had changed.

He wondered just what Daryl had gone through, what exactly had brought these changes, but he half guessed at the answer. It was being with them and not him that had done this. He was now something that Merle couldn't be. He wondered if had the circumstances been different- could he have changed as much. He hurriedly bit the thought down-wasn't nobody that would ever gave the likes of him a chance, and if he was totally honest with himself, he didn't really think he deserved any, anyway. He'd done too many shitty things, and now it was just too late. The only person he'd ever cared for, ever gave a single damn about was his baby brother. He didn't want to fuck up that up again-but fucking things up now was far too ingrained. He'd lose Daryl, he always did.

"Merle," Daryl hissed quietly, gesturing up at the trees.

His voice startled him, and Merle glanced up quickly, nodding his head when he saw the small furry little critter sitting without a care on a large thick branch above their heads. He smiled at Daryl when he saw the bolt swoosh from his brothers crossbow, as the small body fell solidly to the ground, impaled with the dart.

Daryl picked the squirrel up, tugging the bolt from its small body, before stringing it at his waist.

"Old times, baby brother, old times," Merle chuckled suddenly.

Daryl twisted his head and grinned back at him, and Merle felt some small pride well up inside of himself. Little brother always had been a damned good shot. He watched as Daryl fixed another bolt to his crossbow. "Ya know one furry little fuck ain't gonna fix dinner. Hell, that ain't nothin' but a bite!" he cajoled.

Daryl huffed at him, but the small grin was still there for Merle to see.

Pretty soon there were five squirrels strung at his brothers waist, and Daryl let out a sigh of impatience. "Lil fucks are all gone hiding."

"Reckon they gone crying to their mammas," Merle said. "Right now, I bet'cha their warning their furry lil brethren 'bout that big ole fearless squirrel hunter, Darlina Dixon."

The smirk on Daryl's face widened, "Shut the fuck up, man." He glanced behind, indicating with his head, "Got a few snares, rabbits, 'ave to check them 'fore we go-"

Merle spun on his heel as a low moan reached them. "I got this," he called out as he pushed past Daryl, shoving his way heavily through low branches that flipped back at him, stinging and smacking at his legs. His face twisted into a small grimace as he watched the undead asshole trip over the undergrowth in its sudden haste to reach them. He quickly reached his arm out and impaled the biter on his blade, his foot kicking out and knocking it to the ground. He stepped over it, pushing the knife of his prosthesis quickly through its skull.

"'Nother one, Merle," Daryl warned, the bolt singing through the air and landing swiftly and solidly through its forehead with a squishy thump, and Merle conceded it was a damn fine shot as he watched the body tumble heavily to the ground. He stepped forward and with his good hand he tugged the bolt free, wiping it quickly on the leaf debris that littered the ground before handing it back.

Merle watched as Daryl paced through the undergrowth, before finding a fallen tree, and sat on it heavily. He set the crossbow on the ground beside his legs, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Merle went across and sat next to him, watching as Daryl tugged a water bottle from his bag, taking it from him when he was offered, and chugging down a few mouthfuls. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and proffered the bottle back. Daryl took a few swigs before he returned the bottle to the depths of his bag.

They sat a while in silence, and Merle glanced about them, listening to the sounds of birds in the distance, the sounds of their boots digging into the soft ground, the slight breeze whispering and rustling leaves in its wake.

Daryl glanced at him through the curtains of his hair, and Merle saw the intense scrutiny his brother awarded him, and he steeled himself against it. "Somethin' eatin' at ya?" Daryl shifted restlessly next to him, and Merle could see the little nervous ticks that his brother would make when he was feeling ill at ease. "You know they're all making a mistake, dont'cha little brother?"

Daryl glanced away, his feet scuffling in the dirt. "Rick's done well by the group so far."

Merle huffed at that. Yeah, ain't that right-shit yeah...Rick always did well by others. Shame he didn't show any damned consideration when he'd been on that fuckin' rooftop hacking his own damn hand off before biters would've bust their way through that thin fuckin' chain that had barred the door. "He ain't always shown consideration, Daryl. Jus' ya remember that. Left me to die, lost my hand. Not gonna lose my brother to him. Hmm, nope. I've lost enough already."

"You're not losing me," Daryl said quietly. "You just need to make this work Merle. Ya just need ta stop being such a fuckin' ass."

Merle huffed, fuckin' ass. "Ain't looking that way to me, Sheriff Rick's got ya tightly by the balls. Leading ya round an' round by them."

Daryl pushed himself of his seat, barely contained anger shimmering, and Merle again wondered at the change in him. "It ain't like that, and ya know it Merle!" he spat. "If it weren't for Rick, I don't reckon half of us would've made it."

"An' I'm telling you, you don't know what the hell yer dealin' with," Merle hissed angrily. "That Governor? Y'all clueless little headless pussy assed chickens where he's concerned. Should make a strike against him now, when he least expects it."

"We're gonna go see him tomorrow, Andrea arranged that meeting, ya know?" Daryl said quietly, "Rick knows what he's doing..."

"Jesus," Merle glanced at him, then shook his head in defeat. Wasn't nobody that was gonna listen to him. "Jus' ya watch your back Daryl. That man's as slippery as a snake. Don't ya never take no chances with him."

"Ain't stupid, Merle," Daryl grunted as he got to his feet. He stood looking at him, before picking his crossbow up off the ground. "Need'a check them snares, c'mon."

"Lead the way, little brother," he said rising stiffly to his feet. "Hope 'em rabbits ain't as reluctant as yer damn squirrels."

"Got five of those little dumb fucks," Daryl smirked, "They weren't so reluctant."

...

They were walking quietly through the woods when Daryl said suddenly, "I seen ya looking at Carol." His voice was low and quiet when he added, "An' I seen her looking back."

"Huh?" Merle felt the air in his lungs suddenly whoosh up and freeze, choking him and he coughed a little trying to free up some air, hoping that Daryl wouldn't notice, that he wouldn't dare look back at him. It didn't help none that his heart had suddenly decided to do an odd little double thump. Shit if the mention of that damned fuckin' woman's name wasn't making him feel flustered and undecided. "What the hell's that supposed to mean 'xactly?" he growled heatedly.

"Just saying is all."

Daryl didn't look at him, just carried on walking in front, and Merle found himself watching his brother with narrowed eyes. He huffed irritably and he couldn't help the childish retort escape him, "Shit...ye want me to look at Rick instead? At that ole man, Hershel? Man, I ain't no fuckin' pansy."

"That ain't what I'm saying, Merle, and ya fuckin' know it." Daryl didn't so much as break a step, although Merle saw that the hand gripping the strap of his bow tightened alarmingly enough that his knuckles glowed white through his tanned and dirt grimed hand.

"Hell, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, little brother. Imagining all sorts of shit," Merle spat.

His brothers voice was firm and unrelenting. "I won't let her get hurt. I know what your like."

"Aint nobody gonna get hurt. Fuck, Daryl, what ya take me for?" He couldn't help but feel a little indignant at that.

"Keep it that way," Daryl glanced over his shoulder at him, and shook his head.

They walked a little further in an uneasy silence, and Merle noticed that now they weren't that far from the prison. He supposed that the snares had been set closer to home so that they'd be easier to keep a check on. He couldn't help but feel a rising panic and a little surprise wash over him at what his brother had said. He needed more time to think... He sighed tiredly, feeling half angry at himself as he couldn't stop the pathetic little swell of hope rise in his chest. For Christ's sake he thought angrily. He needed to avoid her, and he decided that from now on, every opportunity, he would show her exactly what he was. That should push her away, keep her away from him. He didn't need this crap, women were just objects to be used whenever the mutual desire took-it always used to be that way. Was always easier that way. No strings attached and better still, no-one ever really ever got hurt. Who the fuck exactly needed feelings and fuckin' shit like that anyways?

But...what if she'd been looking at him like that...what if-

"Shit!" Daryl hissed, and Merle felt startled for the second time in one day. What the hell was wrong with him?

Daryl was stooped down, his hands pawing through the dirt. He held up a piece of looped wire and dropped it back down in disgust. "Snares empty. Second one now, goddamn it." He got back to his feet, pushing his knife back into his belt. "Squirrel gonna have to do."

"Should get back to the prison Darlina, the lights gettin' against us," Merle said glancing at the darkening skyline.

Daryl rubbed his arm against his forehead, leaving a grimy trail across his damp skin. He sighed heavily, "When we get back...you know what ya gotta do Merle. You need ta apologize to Maggie, to Glenn-ya need ta make things right with them. If ya wanna stay with us at the prison, you need'a make an effort, brother."

"An' what the hell do ya think I been doin'?" Merle hissed, "I'll tell ya somethin', I don't owe Maggie and that chink kid nothin'...least of all a goddamned fuckin' apology."

Daryl sighed again softly, and Merle wasn't so stupid that he couldn't help but hear the hurt in his voice. "I just want my brother back, Merle."

…

It was dark when they got back, and as they got to the gate, Merle saw with some sourness that Maggie was there. She gave him a quick snort and a dismissive glance, turning instead to Daryl and offering him a small smile, and Merle felt a surge of resentment. No matter what the fuck he did, it never seemed to make a difference. He thought on his brothers words, apologize to Maggie and Glenn...and instantly rejected it. Like fuck. All Kim Chi had to do was just tell him where his brother was, instead he'd had to drag their sorry asses back to Woodbury, 'cause of orders of that asshole Philip. Shit-he couldn't change what had happened even if he'd wanted too.

Merle stood stock still as he saw that Daryl had walked a few paces ahead of him, and he couldn't help but feel desperation settle uneasily in himself. He watched his brother as he paused, glancing over his shoulder back at him. Merle felt something twist in his gut at the pained look on his brothers face."Daryl," he rasped quietly.

Daryl turned to face him and warily edged a few paces nearer, watching him with all seeing eyes that didn't seem to so much as blink. "What?" he said tersely.

Merle looked at him for a while, then hung his head, "I'm trying brother, I'm tryin'," he answered softly.

Daryl nodded, glancing quickly at him and then back at the ground. He gave a soft little grunt of understanding. "I know, man." Then he turned away from Merle, and walked steadily back to the prison, back to C-block and to the others.

...