Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

"So, what happened out there?"

Merle glanced irritably to his side, and saw Andrea staring back at him. She had a curious half smile on her face.

"Lost your tongue?" she smirked, crossing her arms casually over her chest. She leaned against the wall, watching him fixedly.

"Ain't you got some place to go blondie?" he questioned, looking away from her to where his brother stood next to his old bike. Daryl was going out on a run with Rick and Michonne to track down the Governor, and Merle hated the fact that he was being left behind yet again. He had more rights than some for wishing to track the bastard down and fucking kill him.

Andrea scuffed the toe of her boot, "Guess I'll go and ask Carl what happened."

"Leave the fuckin' kid alone, it ain't none of your business," he rubbed at his cheek with his hand irritably. He needed to shave-his stubble was growing at an alarming rate, not that he could do much about it right now.

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes trailing over to where he could see Carl sitting on one of the many picnic tables scattered across the courtyard. The boy had his head hung down, and was kicking out one leg, the heel of his shoe thudding intermittently.

"Didn't think you were the caring type Merle, looking out for Carl," Andrea replied tersely.

"I ain't." He watched as Carol came out of the cell block, watched as she gave him a small smile, before turning from him to walk towards his brother. He knew she'd start worrying about Daryl, but Merle knew he would be fine. If anyone could look out for themselves-it was his baby brother. Daryl was more resilient than a lot of them realized, himself included.

He glanced up sharply at the sound of boots clicking near to him, and watched warily as Andrea stood close, her shoulder almost bumping against his.

"Do you think they will find Philip?" she asked quietly.

Merle glanced at her, "Fucked if I know. Hope they do." His gaze narrowed, "Hope they find that son of a bitch Brownie too." He still had the bruises to show for what that bastard Martinez had done to him. A prickle of anger surged through him. They'd been his comrades, the next best thing to friends that he'd had in a long time, and it had all gone to shit so damn quickly.

Andrea sighed, "I should have ended it. You know I had the chance, twice."

He looked at her sharply, "Twice? Ya should have killed the fucker-"

"You mean when you went out like the lone ranger, right?" She laughed bitterly, "That was a stupid move Merle, it was stupid and reckless."

"Didn't see anyone else gonna do shit 'bout it. Bunch'a pussies. I did what I had to do," he spat. "Ain't none gonna put that on me. Yeah, maybe you being there changed things I know, I ain't stupid. But jus' cause you were? Don't be expectin' me to go kissing your ass in fuckin' gratitude."

"Ever gracious as always Merle," Andrea quirked an eyebrow at him. "I did save your life."

"An' I ain't never asked you to do that." He pushed himself away from her, "We're done here blondie. Go an' annoy some other fucker."

He ignored her as he walked over to where his brother and Carol were waiting, and he tried to ignore the sudden pain in his head as it pulsed and throbbed. He felt a wave of familiar dread prickle over him, in the way that his ears seemed to pick every single goddamned sound as if it reverberated through his skull.

He felt tired. Old and tired.

"You'll be careful Daryl. Promise me?" Carols voice broke through his thoughts, her words soft and gentle.

"Pfft, you fuss too much woman," Daryl answered.

Merle's gaze drifted downwards. Her hand was on his brother, and he watched as her fingers stroked against the shoulder of his leather vest. "If ya catch the bastard little brother? Don't make it quick. Make the cunt suffer."

Daryl paused as he stood with one hand resting against the bike. He stared for a while, before nodding solemnly, "I will Merle. I'll do that for ya, bro."

He found he wanted to say,take care baby brother... but he wouldn't-he couldn't, so the words dried in his throat before they'd even found his tongue. Instead, he cuffed Daryl lightly across the back of his head.

Daryl smirked at him, "You too, brother."

Merle stepped back almost indignantly, "Get the fuck out'a here, man."

He didn't miss the soft warm look that Carol gave him.

…

"I couldn't take the chance. I didn't kill the walker that killed Dale. Look what happened."

"Son, that is not the same thing," Rick breathed.

"You didn't kill Andrew, and he came back and killed Mom. You were in a room with the Governor, and you let him go. And then he shot Merle, almost killed him. I did what I had to do, Dad. Now go, so he doesn't kill anymore of us."

Merle backed away slowly. He didn't want to hear this conversation between Rick and his son. He knew all to well what had happened. He'd been there. He'd seen that Woodbury kid surrendering, lowering his weapon, then Carl popping a bullet through his brain.

Rick had followed Hershel into the cell block, and Merle presumed it was for the old man to rat out on the kid. He knew the old man was a lot more disgusted and shocked than he actually was, and he thought that shit was kinda ironic for an old coot that had kept a barn full of dead relatives.

And now...now Rick was berating his son for what he'd done. Like Rick had any fucking clue what was happening-what had happened out there. He could act all high and fucking mighty, but the truth of it was, Rick had done worse. No wonder Rick Jr was following in his daddy's footsteps.

He had to admit though. Rick fucking Junior had surprised him. The kid had a whole lot more balls than his old man did.

He reached into his pocket and pulled his cigarettes out, lighting one awkwardly. He glared at the thick padding on his hand. Stupid fucking bandages. Taking a long drag of the smoke, he closed his eyes briefly to the feeling of nicotine, and wished not for the first time, for something a lot damn stronger. The itch clawed at him, the itch that he remembered from old. The aching release and relief to be free from all the goddamned shit that he was powerless to stop.

His head pounded.

Merle sighed, he felt damned if he was going to be left behind like a cowering pussy anymore. It was time to get his ass back into gear and put a fucking stop to all those pitying glances and looks as if he didn't fit any goddamned equation no more.

He only needed an accomplice to help him get rid of these fucking damned hateful bandages and shit. He smirked and raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the boy in the sheriffs hat.

…

He stayed in the courtyard long enough to see his brother off, and long enough to see that asshole sheriff drive off with Michonne, before turning and making his way back into the prison.

Maggie was in the kitchenette area, preparing food, and as he walked past her, she glanced at him warily. It fucking ticked him off that she still felt like that, he could almost feel the hostility flowing from her, but then she surprised him by giving him the smallest begrudging smile he thought that he'd ever seen in his life. He only narrowed his eyes in response and inclined his head slightly.

Let her think what the fuck she would, he couldn't give a shit about her. What was done was done, and there was nothing that could change that-it was high time for her to get over her fucking self. He cast his eyes about the room looking for her siamese twin, shrugging when he couldn't see him. Glenn was probably out doing some shit around the prison. Suited him damned fine. As long as he kept out of his fucking way, there would be no fighting. Although he found he wouldn't have minded that so much-at least he would have been able to blow off a little steam.

He made his way towards his cell, huffing in irritation, and then he saw him. Carl was heading towards the main cell doors, a bunch of keys in his hand. Merle paced stealthily across to where the kid was stood.

"Say, boy. Ya seen Hershel, or Carol?"

Carl spun on his heels, the keys jangling in his hands, and Merle had to bite down the small laugh at the way the kids eyes had widened largely in surprise. Carl shook his head, "I think...Carol is with Beth doing laundry, but I'm not sure where Hershel is."

At least Carol was out of the way for the time being, and that suited him just fine, right now. "I...uh, need yer help, if ya got the time?"

The kid locked the door, then thrust the keys into his pocket. "Sure."

Merle inclined his head towards his cell, "Need ya to come with me." He didn't stop to wait to see if Carl was following him, he just headed off towards his cell.

He sat on his bunk, watching as Carl came and stood in the doorway, the boys bright blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on his own.

"Ya see kid, I have a dilemma. An' I need your help," he gave the boy a small smile, hoping to put the kid at ease.

"Of course," Carl answered curiously, "What's the problem?"

"I seen ya lookin' at the lil blondie girl, Beth. You like her, right?" Merle rasped, watching as the boy paused before nodding reluctantly. It amused him to see the way the kids cheeks flushed suddenly and vividly red. "Well, here's how I'm seein' it kid. Right now, yer word means shit all to her ole man. Especially after that crap that went down in the woods. Ain't none gonna believe anythin' ya gonna say right now. Comprende?"

Carl's eyes narrowed warily, and he reached out his hand and pushed back the brim of the sheriffs hat with one finger.

"Well, ole man Hershel got some shit I need, and I ain't about gonna go an' embarrass myself by going to get it. So, say why don't you go to the ole mans cell, get that first aid kit he hides and bring it to me, and I won't tell the ole man you been behavin' inappropriately to his lil girl."

"I haven't done anything," Carl said frowning.

"I know that, an' you know that, but Hershel knows jack shit. Who's he gonna believe right now, huh?"

He watched as Carl glared at him for a moment, before turning on his heel and stepping out of his cell. He listened to the kids footfalls echo down the corridor.

It wasn't so long before the kid was back, the first aid box clamped firmly in his hands. "C'mon in, I ain't gonna bite ya, Carl," Merle watched as the boy nervously stepped into his cell. "Now, ya gonna help me get this fuckin' thing off'a me," he gestured with his hand to the sling.

Carl narrowed his eyes, but stepped forwards, placing the kit on the bunk next to Merle, before reaching out and tugging at the knots about his neck. Merle felt a sigh of relief as the tight bindings eased from around his neck.

He shrugged the boys hands off as he reached up with his bound hand and pulled the hateful sling from off himself, before throwing it into the corner of his cell. He even smiled back at the kid, nodding. "Now these," he inclined his head towards the thick padding about his hand. "I need my hand, goddamn it, boy," he hissed as Carl looked to him questioningly. He raised his bandaged stump, "Can't 'xactly do it myself."

The kid took his hand, and started loosening the thick bandages.

"I heard ya talking to yer ole man, an' I gotta say, he was wrong."

Carl glanced up at him in surprise. He shrugged, "My dad is angry with me for shooting that boy."

Merle watched him thoughtfully, "You were protecting yer own, right?" He saw Carl nod. "Don't let anyone tell you any different, kid. You were protecting your blood. Don't feel no shame in doin' that, ever."

"My dad doesn't see it that way," Carl said sadly. He raised his head, and Merle felt surprised that the kid met his own gaze rigidly. "I did what I thought was right. I had to. I lost my mom, I wasn't going to lose my sister."

"You did right, boy. That kid had a gun. How the hell were ya to know different. Your dad-he don't see the bigger picture like we do. To get by in this world, we gotta do shit to survive. I would've done the same damn thing you did if I thought it'd protect my little brother."

Merle glanced down at his hand as he felt the tight pressure ease off from about his hand. For the first time, he saw the wound on his hand-and it made him feel sick.

There was a bloodied semi circle weal at the side of his hand, marred by angry blackened stitching. He shook his head angrily. Fucking Philip fucking Blake had all too goddamned well left his mark perpetually on him. When...it healed, he would have that fucking man's teeth marks forever etched thickly into his skin.

"Shit," Carl hissed. He glanced up at Merle, and he felt sickened to see the horror and pity in the kids eyes.

Merle sighed, "Could'a been worse."

"What do you want me to do now?" Carl looked at him.

"See 'em band-aids?" he watched as Carl rifled through them, "No, the bigger ones," he spat as Carl held a pitifully small band-aid up to him. The boy rummaged until he found the largest in the pack. "Yeah, wrap it round that bite, an' bandage it with them thinner strappin's."

He leaned against the wall as Carl did as he was told. "Ya know kid? We do what we gotta do to survive. An' even if that means killing others that we see as a threat." Merle shook his head, "Don't feel ashamed, an' don't doubt yerself kid. You know what ya feel is right-so you do it. Jus' don't let yer ole man tell you any different. Do what ya gotta do to protect your own. Biters ain't the only threat we face. People can be worse. A lot worse."

Carl glanced up at him, and nodded. He finished securing the bindings, and Merle flexed his hand. It still stung like a bitch, but it was finally good to have use of his fingers again. In the morning, he would pit himself against a few biters, see if he could grasp a knife. Then...maybe he wouldn't feel so goddamned fucking useless. The pain in his shoulder flared, and he knew it would be a while before he would be able to have use of 'lil Merle'. But he was getting there. At least now, he hoped he'd finally be able to defend himself without having to rely on anyone.

"Ya did good kid," he said as Carl closed the first aid kit. He watched as the boy nodded at him, before he moved to the doorway.

Carl gazed at him unblinkingly again for a few moments, before answering, "You didn't have to try and blackmail me, Merle. I would have helped you, you know."

Merle couldn't help but laugh ironically as the kid left.

…

Now that he'd sorted his hand and arm out, the urge to see Carol itched at him. His heart pounded a little too much at the thought, but he tried to ignore it as he cautiously stepped his way through the prison block. Maggie glanced across to him, and he felt his lip curl as he took in the Asian sat there sat regarding him quietly as he prodded a fork restlessly through the bowl in front of him.

Andrea was sat at one of the tables, her chin resting on her hands. Her eyes met his, and she rose from her seat, following him as he moved towards the outer door.

Merle frowned. He didn't want any fucker following him, as he stepped out into the cool chill air. He blinked against the darkness, his feet moving of their own accord, driving him across the courtyard to the watch tower-to where he knew Carol was keeping vigil over his brother.

He was aware that he wasn't alone, and he grimaced as he saw Andrea following him. Pausing, he turned to the blonde woman, not being able to hide his impatience. He wished that she'd just fucking go and leave him alone.

Merle sighed irritably as her voice reached him through the night air.

"Where are you going?" Andrea questioned.

"Ain't none of your fuckin' business," he rasped.

She laughed, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night. "Oh. Let me guess, Carol?"

"What the hell's it gotta do with ya, blondie?" He paused, watching narrowly as she walked closer towards him.

"So, what's the deal with her? Something going on?" Andrea turned her head, her eyes regarding him curiously.

Her lips were pulled up in a thoughtful smile, and he tried to ignore the fact that there would have been a time when he would have loved nothing more than to wipe that fucking sassy smile off her face, that he would have shoved her against the wall without any real thought or hesitation and fucked her senseless for her brazen flirtatious nature. Women like her begged to be used.

"You know you're kidding yourself about her, right?" Her eyes left his and traveled across to the watch tower.

He felt the warmth of anger start to flow steadily through him. "You don't know shit."

Andrea sighed, glancing at him quickly, "I'm just surprised. I really didn't think she was your type at all."

"You know nothin' about me sugar, so don't kid yerself that ya fuckin' do."

She only laughed in answer, and Merle decided enough was fucking enough. She was pissing him off. He glared at her before pushing himself away. She had no goddamned right to question what, or wasn't going on with Carol. No right at all.

...

Carol greeted him almost shyly, and he found that he couldn't help the sudden heavy thud of his heart at her soft look as she watched as he finally stomped his way up the steps towards her. His brain told him he was being a pussy and his heart told him different. He found then that he didn't really give a fuck. He just wanted to see her.

"How long ya been up here?" he asked quietly, although he knew that she'd been up here for a few hours, keeping her silent watch.

She propped the rifle to the wall and smiled at him, "Not long."

He couldn't help but huff at that, knowing that she was lying. "You know, Daryl can look after himself."

She looked at him, biting at her lip. "That's what he said about you Merle, and look what happened."

"I told you before sweetheart, ain't none gonna-"

"Kill Merle, except Merle. I know," she said sadly. "You can't expect me to feel better after that? Really Merle," she sighed, turning from him and leaning against the railings.

He stared at her feeling awkward and not really knowing what to do. He felt the familiar confusing ache of needing her close, and wanting her to get the hell away from him. He sighed, angry with himself and angry at her. God fucking damn it.

"Merle? Are you all right?"

He shook his head as he looked at her. Her eyes were fixed on his in concern, and he found he didn't want her looking at him like that. Like she was feeling sorry for him. He frowned as she moved closer to him, looked at her stupidly as her hand pressed tentatively and lightly against his chest. "Don't," he warned.

Carol ignored him, instead she moved closer to him, and he felt the touch of her hand on his chest like it was burning through his skin. He glanced at her, swallowing thickly. She was looking up at him with those goddamned pretty blue eyes, staring at him like he might just actually fucking matter...and he couldn't stop himself as his arm slipped about her waist, pulling her tightly to him. He half wondered if she would push herself away from him, but as he looked at her and saw the warmth in her eyes, he cursed himself for wanting her so badly.

Her hand smoothed across his shirt, against his chest and his breath caught in his throat. He felt trapped. It felt wrong, and he knew that he should just push her off and walk the hell away while he still could. She was pressed up so firmly against him, and he wondered at the fact that she fitted so tightly and nicely against him. He leant against her, pressing his forehead to hers, all the while his heart yammering in his chest. He couldn't ever remember a woman having quite this effect on him before.

Her arms slipped about his back, one hand trailing up to the nape of his neck. He shuddered slightly against her as she trailed her fingers through his hair, her fingernails tantalizingly grazing his scalp.

Merle stared at her for a while, before lowering his head to hers, his lips brushing across hers softly. His arm tightened about her waist as she met his kiss, her mouth parting slightly as he pressed his more firmly to hers. He only just managed to suppress the growl as the tip of her tongue touched at his lips. He deepened the kiss, his tongue pressing her to part her lips so that he could slip his tongue in to investigate her further. She sighed against his mouth, and it was all he could do to stop himself from shoving her up against the wall.

'You know Merle, you are kidding yourself about her'. Andrea's words trickled back to him distantly, and he froze suddenly in horror. What the hell was he doing? She'd been here worrying and waiting for his little brother, and he was acting like selfish asshole, pushing himself on her. Andrea was right. He'd been kidding himself. After every thing he'd ever done, he didn't deserve anything, and especially something so good as Carol. She belonged to his brother, not him. He was never good for shit. She deserved alot better.

He let his arm drop from her and he backed away, swallowing quickly. She was looking at him wide eyed in confusion, and he found then that he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. He was an idiot. He took another step backwards.

"Merle?" Carol called out to him.

He eventually raised his eyes to look at her. She was stood with her arms banded tightly about herself, and he felt sickened with himself when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he choked out, turning from her quickly and stomping down the steps.

…

Merle raised his hand and swatted at his forehead angrily, as he turned towards the gates at the sound of approaching vehicles. He stood rigidly as he listened to the low steady rumble of his old bike growing nearer.

Footsteps clattered behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Carol there. His heart twisted at the pained expression on her face, and he knew that look was there because he'd been such a fucking asshole and put it there.

He moved to the gate, gritting his teeth in frustration, knowing that he wouldn't be able to tug the gate open, because of his damned shoulder. He felt a hand on his arm, and glanced down at it.

"Let me help you," Carol said softly.

"Don't need no fuckin' help," he hissed.

She raised her eyebrows a little, shaking her head at him. "Oh, you do Merle. I just wish you'd let me."

He narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she meant by that exactly. She gave his arm a brief squeeze, before stepping next to him, and pulling at the gate. He sighed, before grasping at the bars, and pulling the gate out of the way, letting his brother pass by on the bike.

Merle watched as Rick pulled up in the Hyundai, and he frowned when he saw another vehicle just behind the small car. He recognized it as one of the buses from Woodbury. He glanced at his brother questioningly, but saw that Daryl's attention was fixed on Carol. The bus pulled to a stop, and he watched as Rick and Michonne pulled the gate tightly shut.

The bus doors opened, and Merle glanced as a large black man stepped off, quickly followed by a slender black woman. He vaguely recognized them as recent additions to Woodbury, but he couldn't remember their names. Carol had moved away from his brother, and was greeting people as they stepped off the bus.

Merle felt his stomach twist and sour as he watched. Quite a few of the faces he knew of. They'd been the ones cheering loudly and claiming him to be their champion at the arena biter fights. They'd also been the same ones jeering him and calling for his death when Blake had made him out to be the traitor.

...