Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

Carol sat at the table, her hands flattened and resting loosely across each other. Quiet times at the prison were always a rarity, and she savored this small moment for what it truly was. Quiet, almost peaceful... but she knew that was a lie, there could never be any peace while the Governor threatened their lives and way of life. She hated the fact that people could be an even worse threat than what they had to face every single day. But again she reminded herself, human nature was an even bigger monster simply because there was always a conscious decision behind every action, unlike the mindlessness of walkers whose one single driven aim was purely to consume. She closed her eyes briefly, wondering if Andrea had done as she had suggested, but as time dragged on, she felt ever more doubtful.

The sound of boots shuffling on the dusty floor caught her attention, and raising her head she stared across at Michonne, who just sat there watching her quietly. Carol smiled at her, but the woman didn't return the gesture, only continued staring at her with those dark guarded eyes that seemed to observe everything with a quiet defiance.

The day before, Rick had gone on a run, and Carol had been curious at the fact that he had taken Michonne and Carl with him, although she supposed, it had more to do with Merle than anything. She shook her head, it seemed no matter what that man did, it always ended badly, always seemed to end in a fight.

Rick had come back with a substantial amount of fire power, and even more surprisingly, a new cot for the baby, as well as a good amount of loot. Carl had come back with an old photo in a dusty frame, and she had been teary-eyed when she had seen the youthful Lori in the picture, and at the thoughtfulness the young boy had for his baby sister. Michonne had come back with a gaudy brightly colored paper mache cat, which seemed incongruously at odds with the dark brooding woman.

Carol glanced up and felt her heart lurch suddenly in her chest as she watched as Merle stepped out of his cell, his eyes catching hers as he walked towards her. Mentally she rolled her eyes at herself, she was starting to feel ridiculous. But she couldn't help but feel the small heady thrill run through her as he stood near, his hand catching out and dragging a chair loudly, before falling heavily into the seat.

His shoulder brushed roughly against hers and she peeked up at him, catching him staring back at her, and she couldn't help the small smile form on her mouth. He didn't smile back, just stared right at her, then he dismissed her with a small curt nod.

Michonne was behind them, sitting on one of the tables, one foot now resting on a chair. Carol noticed Merle was deliberately ignoring the dark skinned woman, and she caught the slight narrowing of Michonne's eyes as she continued her silent vigil, her dark eyes flickering over the both of them.

"Michonne," Merle rasped suddenly, turning in his seat to face her. "You ain't never said how you an' blondie kept oh so warm on those long, long cold lonely nights in them woods. Did she snuggle up all tight an' close to yer soft warm ebony skin?" He tutted loudly,"Your holding out on me, Michonne. I bet she was a damn fine screw. Mhm. Or your heart too cold for some good ole fashion lovin'?"

Michonne pushed herself off the table and strode purposefully across the floor, her boots thudding dully. She paused, looking at Merle, her gloved hand resting on her katana, her fingers stroking and tapping the shiny blade. "You're a pig," she spat at him, before slowly pulling her eyes from his and walking out of the room.

Merle glanced at Carol and raised an eyebrow, "Got a way with words, ain't I?" he scowled.

"That wasn't necessary Merle," she admonished him, and she was surprised to see the sudden hot glare he shot back at her.

"Tell it to someone who gives a shit, sister. Yer preachin' to the unconverted," he retorted.

She looked at him in concern, seeing that he had turned from her, the sullen look harsh on his face, and she couldn't help but feel sad for him. He had been through so much that he would resort to crudeness and anger as a defense. She reached her hand out and placed it gently on his arm, feeling him flinch at the contact, and she was surprised that as annoyed as he seemed, he didn't pull away from her.

"Carol?" She glanced up as Beth stood before them, her wide blue eyes darting from her to Merle. "I've come to help with the laundry."

"Thank you Beth," she said, pushing herself from her seat, and stepping towards the young girl. She looked back at Merle, and was startled when he raised his eyes to hers and held her gaze firmly. His eyes flickered across her, then narrowed, and he hesitated before shoving himself out of his seat muttering 'got shit to do' before exiting hurriedly out of the room.

...

It wasn't for the first time that she thought with some irony, that they were sat here scrubbing dirty clothes in large buckets surrounded by the large industrial washing machines, that now in this new modern sense of the word, were totally obsolete. She wistfully thought back to all the things that they had taken for granted back before the turn. Simple things that didn't really merit much thought-it was there, you used it, you took it for granted, until you didn't have it anymore.

She was scrubbing hard at a particular stubborn stain in the knee of Daryl's pants, and she thought if she scrubbed it anymore, the material would practically dissolve in her hands. All their clothing was worn and getting badly threadbare, and the rough nature of having to wash everything by hand was taking its toll on all their clothing. She sighed, letting the pants slide out of her hands back into the bucket, and she brushed her hand over hear forehead, leaving a soapy smear.

Beth was sat next to her, one of Hershel's shirts soaking in the bucket at her feet, and as Carol looked at her, Beth gave her a small wistful smile. "Daddy always said idle hands are the devil's tools, but I don't think he reckoned on this."

Carol laughed and gazed across at the obsolete washers, "What I would give for one of those washers to actually work."

"Oh me too," Beth glanced across the dirty pile of laundry, "Maggie should be here, I mean, Glenn's stuff is worse that daddy's." She pushed her hand into the soapy water and pulled the shirt out, it was once recognizably white, but now had a more gray like hue. "If that's possible," she said raising an eyebrow at the shirt.

Carol snorted softly and shook her head, before thrusting her hands back into the bucket and scrubbing at the pants. She wondered just how Daryl's clothing always seemed to be that little bit more grubbier than everyone else, but she knew. He always put himself first, put himself to the front of any danger that faced the group as a whole, and not for the first time, she wondered if he knew just how invaluable he was too the group, how much he was cared for.

"I don't think he's as bad as they make out ya know. I mean he is Daryl's brother, and Daryl's always done well by us all," Beth said suddenly, breaking the reverie Carol had slipped into.

She glanced quickly at her, frowning, "Merle?"

Beth nodded, "Yeah. He's just rougher than Daryl is. I know what happened to Maggie and Glenn, and I can't accept what he did, but he had to have had a good reason to do it."

"I don't think the others see it that way." Carol sighed sadly, "All they remember is what he used to be. They can't see what he is trying to do now." She stood up stiffly, pacing over to where a pile of fresh folded clothing lay, wiping her wet hands on the legs of her pants. "I'm going to take these...god knows Daryl could do with a change of clothing, Merle too." She remembered just how filthy and blood grimed he had been at the shower room, and her heart pounded a little at the memory.

"Carol?" Beth called, getting to her feet and stepping hesitantly over to her. "I'm sure everythin' will be alright, I know you worry about us."

"I hope you're right Beth," Carol rested her hand on the girls shoulder and gave her a small squeeze of gratitude.

…

Carol lay on her bunk flicking through the paperback that Maggie had given what seemed so long ago. She couldn't concentrate on the words, her mind wouldn't switch off and it was frustrating her. She supposed the long wait for the others to come back from the arranged meeting with the Governor was taking its toll, the anxiousness that threatened to squeeze the very breath from her giving way to a numbing sense of hopelessness. She just wished that they were back, and then they'd know what they were dealing with. Bitterly she knew if Andrea hadn't been able to...to take care of business, then she didn't have much hope that Rick would be able to achieve anything either. Lately he seemed erratic-she had seen him a few times muttering to himself while staring blankly at empty space. Mentally she berated herself, feeling a little ashamed that she was even thinking it-but she couldn't help but wonder if Rick was even capable of dealing with things. But it seemed both Hershel and Daryl were firmly supporting him, and she guessed that was the very reason he had taken them both with him.

Loud voices reached up all the way across the hall and to her cell and she sat up quickly, the book sliding out of her hand and falling to the floor. Quickly she pushed herself off her bunk and raced out of the small room, her body prickling with alarm as she heard the high antagonized yelp of Glenn's voice and Maggie's shrill cry, and she could only guess at the cause of it all, Merle. She was absolutely damned if there was going to be another repeat of what had happened before.

Tables were strewn with all manner of weaponry-knives, bayonets, high powered rifles, shotguns, boxes and boxes of ammo, but that wasn't what caught her eye. Glenn was laying on the ground, his fists flying with Merle sitting astride him, while Maggie was draped awkwardly across Merle's back with her arm against his throat, his head yanked up high, holding him tight in a strangle hold.

Carol looked helplessly at Michonne, who just stood there watching, and she felt startled to see the start of a small smile grace the other woman's full lips.

Angrily she raced across, her hand grabbing at Maggie's arm, trying to pull her away, "Maggie, just you let him go," she cried.

"He started this," Maggie spat, "It's always him." She tightened her grip on Merle and glared at Carol over her shoulder angrily.

"Let me fuckin' go," Merle hissed, his breath whistling in his throat.

"This doesn't achieve anything," Carol said, anger starting to rise in herself. She reached down and grabbed firmly at the younger woman's clothing, pulling and eventually managing to tug her away with a strength and determination she was dimly aware that she had. She watched as Merle shoved at Glenn, before rising slowly to his feet. His hand rubbed at his neck, and he shot Maggie an intense little look of pure fury.

"Y'all missing this goddamned chance," he rasped, "Fuckin' fools."

Glenn pushed himself up, half sitting, half kneeling on the dirty floor. "I told you Merle, this was my call to make, not yours."

Merle shouted angrily, "In case y'all forgotten, it's my brother out there. I ain't sitting on no goddamned sidelines, doing nothin' while he is out there! What's the matter with y'all?"

"I'm not going to let you go and jeopardize anything, Merle. Not taking the risk that they could get caught in the crossfire. So yes, my call," Glenn answered heatedly.

"He isn't one of us," Maggie said abruptly, her hand on Glenn's arm as she helped him to his feet. Her eyes flashed passionately, "He don't belong here anyways, not with us, not with our group."

Carol froze, her eyes fixed firmly on Merle. She watched as his shoulders stiffened and saw his hand clench into a fist. Anger and hurt for him flowed through her as she watched him walk stiffly across to his cell. She felt the breath grow tight in her chest, and she turned around slowly, walking steadily towards the younger woman. "In case you have forgotten Maggie, he is Daryl's brother, so yes, he does belong here in this group. And while you may not be happy with this arrangement, Daryl is." She eyed Maggie and Glenn almost distastefully. "All of you...you should be ashamed of yourselves. There wasn't one of us that gave him any damn thought or consideration after he was left to die on that rooftop. Not one of us gave a thought to what he had to do to survive. Nobody gave any consideration to Daryl...his brother. So yes, he does belong here, he has every right..."

"He beat me and threw a walker at me," Glenn seethed, "He let a man almost brutalize Maggie. I don't care what happens to me, but I do care what happens to her!"

"Merle lost his hand, so do you think you are remotely even, Glenn, Maggie?" Carol questioned, shaking her head. "If you can't get along or accept him...or hell, even try and forgive what he has done, then don't do it for him, do it for Daryl."

"I don't know why you're wasting so much of your time on him anyway, Carol," Maggie said petulantly.

"People need people to survive in this world. Isn't that what we say? He only has his brother so it's about time somebody else gave a damn about him." Carol saw that Glenn's gaze was downcast, his eyes blinking rapidly, and she felt a grim little satisfaction at that.

Tiredly, she turned on her heel, not bothering to give them a second glance, before she paced across to Merle's cell. She stood leaning in at the doorway, watching him quietly as he sat on his bunk with his head hanging down. She wanted to reach out to him, but she felt wary of the anger that still simmered in him. Taking a deep breath, she said, "You heard that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. I heard enough."

"They were wrong..."

"Look...I don't want yer fuckin' pity, and I don't need ya to fight my goddamned battles for me," he said angrily, raising his head abruptly to look at her.

Carol crossed her arms and pursed her lips tightly. She met his gaze unblinkingly, "Daryl needs you, Merle," she said softly.

"No." He laughed bitterly, "Don't know that no more. They're right ya know. I don't fit here. Daryl does, I've seen how he is with them, who he is now. He's changed. He takes his orders off Rick, I've seen where his loyalties are."

"He's your brother, and he cares for you. He cares what happens to you."

"Always has been my first concern, my little brother. That ain't gonna change anytime soon, darlin'." He looked away from her, letting the breath sigh out of his mouth quietly. "Wasn't always the case. I tried, I looked after him best damned way I could, but I always let him down. Shit," he spat tiredly.

He had that beat down haunted look again, and she found she couldn't bear to see those dark shadows sweep across his eyes. "You're here now, and that has to count," she said gently.

"Ain't got nowhere else to go," he replied bitterly."My past record with Daryl ain't never been a shining fuckin' example. Left him too many times than I can count. Could never stay, not even for him."

"Change then, do it for him," she insisted quietly.

Merle growled irritably, "Lady, I'm too old to change, what's the damn point?"

"There's every point Merle. You of all people should realize that."

"Ain't you got some place to go, woman? Others to annoy?" He sat back heavily, leaning into the wall. "Can't I get any fuckin' peace?" he spat.

The distant sound of people in the main room, of feet shuffling about and the low hum of activity from others as they bustled around reached her ears, and she swore she had just heard Rick's voice echo in the room beyond.

She turned tersely to Merle. "Fine," she hissed back at him, as she moved from his cell and stepped into the main room. Daryl looked across to her as he heard the sound of her boots, and she offered him a small tired smile as she went and stood next to him, leaning against the wall.

"Are you okay?" She whispered close to him. "How did it go?"

" 'M fine, but this ain't gonna go down well," he said, inclining his head at the others.

She glanced around the room, seeing that Merle had followed her, and was now stood some distance away, standing just behind Carl. His eyes caught hers and she glanced quickly away, turning her head and letting her gaze settle on the former sheriff.

Rick's glare was demanding and earnest as his eyes swept across the room. "So, I met with this Governor." His voice broke heavily through the silence, and everyone's gaze turned and met his. "I sat with him for quite a while."

"Jus' the two of you?" Merle's voice was low and insistent, and Carol couldn't help but look across at him.

"Yeah." Rick glanced at the floor, his eyes almost pained before glancing across at them again. "He wants the prison. He wants us gone. He wants us dead for what we did to Woodbury." He shuffled briefly on his feet. "We're going to war."

Silence fell over the group again, and she watched as Rick turned on his heel and stomped away from them, his booted tread heavy and echoing. Carl followed after him, and Carol sighed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"Told ya, didn't I?" Daryl murmured.

She looked at him and he stared back, his eyes peeking brightly beneath his fringe. "What does this man want, the Governor?"

Daryl shook his head, glancing away from her and biting at his lip. He paused before answering tersely, "He wants Michonne."

"What?" Carol almost laughed, but she saw the seriousness in the way that Daryl stood stiffly next to her. "Give him Michonne, and he will leave the rest of us alone?"

"Mhm," he grunted.

"That's not going to happen, right? We can't do that. The man's a sadist, he will kill her, Daryl."

Daryl shrugged, "I ain't exactly happy 'bout it either, but is all we can do. Rick's got a plan-he'll know what has to be done."

Carol slumped wearily against the wall, disbelief flowing through her, and as she glanced away from Daryl she saw Michonne turn her back and leave the room. It didn't matter who she was, they couldn't do this.

It wasn't right.

...