Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

a/n: Last few days I've been at a complete loss on how to handle this particular chapter, and I had been stubbornly ignoring how and where a certain muse wanted the direction of this chapter to go, but in the end he kinda totally wore me down, so I gave the Merle muse free reign to channel whatever it was that he wanted. And this was the result. Although, I have (again) had to split this chapter into two pieces, as the word count was fast approaching 8k words. I guess he had a lot that he wanted to say, and do, lol.

I am also slowly working up to the point where everything will change, although it is a slow process. I have plans where this is going, if only certain muses would behave.

I will say this though...this, and the next chapter have been the most fun to write, and I personally have loved every minute of writing these chapters. They are both a lot more light-hearted than I ever intended to write originally, and it was one of those rare times where the words just flowed non-stop. Even so, all in all-this (and the next piece) took around ten solid hours of writing, and I didn't stop until 4:30am (thank God for days off from work!)

And as always, many thank yous to everyone who reviews and are still with me-I appreciate it more than you know.

...

Merle shrugged deeper into the thick jacket he wore, tugging at his collar with his fingers, while his eyes never left the increasingly grey murky sky. There was now a very discernible chilly bite in the air, and judging from the heavy dark clouds obscuring most of the sky, Merle knew that they were going to be in for a downpour, and while standing here in this open space, studying age old dust tracks in the heavy earth was all well and good-they desperately needed to find shelter before the proverbial shit hit.

They had been out in the open, still trying to find any track or futile sign of the Governors passing for the last five days, and Merle was amused to see the ever increasing frustration and impatience growing steadily with his younger brother. They'd found no sign of Blake, but Daryl had thought that they'd stumbled back on the tracks of a group-a small convoy, and he'd been consumed with thinking that it was the same camp he'd found with Michonne sometime ago. Probability seemed almost likely-the same type of heavy tracks, one large vehicle, possibly a RV, several smaller car tracks.

"Ya ain't finding anything there baby brother. C'mon," Merle sighed for what felt like the tenth time as he watched Daryl leaning on the ground, pawing at the hardened earth with one hand.

"They were here, Merle," Daryl grunted back.

"How can ya know that, huh? Those goddamn tracks could'a been any thing-and long gone from looks of it. We been chasing our tails out here, boy. There ain't no damn thing to see."

"Ya know ya ain't gotta be here with me. Ya can go and check them snares," Daryl grunted as he got to his feet. He watched with narrowed eyes as Merle reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. "Where the hell do ya keep finding them smokes, Merle?"

"I have my ways." Merle lit one and cocked his brow, blowing the smoke at him. He smirked as Daryl glared at him, and relenting; he offered a cigarette to his brother, tossing the lighter at him.

Daryl pulled his poncho tighter about himself, handing the lighter back to him in a puff of his own thin reedy blue-grey smoke. "Look's like it's gonna storm," he said glancing briefly at the skyline.

"Well, like that ain't stating the obvious, Darlina."

Daryl stared at him for a moment, twisting the butt of the smoke between his fingers, before raising it to his mouth and taking another drag. His eyes scrutinized Merle suspiciously. "Why ya lookin' so damned happy, anyways Merle? Ya ain't high or any shit like that?"

"High? Get the hell out'a here brother. I ain't high." Merle couldn't help but feel indignant at that. "Ya know I've been clean, ya asshole."

His brother took a deep pull on his smoke, before dropping it to the ground and crushing the embering butt with the toe of his boot. "I just know that look. Seen it before," Daryl glanced up at him, his blue eyes fixed on his brothers. "Means yer up to shit."

Merle laughed, "Up to shit? Ain't nothing to get up to, not out here in the ass crack of fuckin' nowhere, little brother. Jus' maybe I'm glad to be out of that damned prison." To be honest, Merle had felt his mood lighten with every damn mile that they'd driven away from Woodbury. That place had been filled with too many ghosts and memories-most that he didn't care to dwell on. Being out in the open, had helped ease the weariness in his bones and soul.

"I know what yer like, brother. And yeah? Ya looking like you're up to no good."

Merle flicked his cigarette across the ground, looking at Daryl and smirking again. "Well booyah, I'm having a fuckin' ball out here, Darlina. Ain't you?"

Daryl shrugged and sighed, glancing away from his brother, his eyes drawn to the two women walking close together, heading off towards the thick treeline. They were both wearing thick woolen ponchos that Michonne had fashioned out of some blankets that they'd found in a house a few days back. Merle naturally being Merle...had refused to wear one.

"Ya talking to her yet?" Daryl inclined his head towards the two women.

"Talking to who? Michonne? Ya know I am. Dumb question, little bro," he answered, following his brothers gaze. Damned if Carol still wasn't really speaking to him-she had been doing her level best to try and avoid him at every God given opportunity, and Merle was getting fed up with that shit. He was going to make her talk to him, even if it meant he had to nut up and act like a pussy with her.

"Hell I ain't talking about 'Chonne, and ya know it," Daryl glowered. "Quit the crap Merle."

Merle raised his eyebrows and shrugged, glancing at his brother. "Alright, keep yer pantyhose on, Daryl. I'm gonna make her talk to me. It ain't no problem."

"She's pissed with you, Merle...and I ain't blaming her for that-"

"I know. Jus' stop this already, Daryl? I know, and I'm gonna fix it. Even if it means I gotta suck up." He turned to face him, a grin suddenly tugging at his mouth, "An' believe me, brother-I intend to do all the sucking up I can."

"Christ Merle," Daryl grimaced.

"Hell yeah. I'm gonna hit her up with the ole Merle charm, and I'm tellin' ya brother? It's a done deal. She ain't gonna be able to resist me," Merle leered, dragging his gaze from the two women, to look at his brother humorously. It amused the hell out of him that Daryl's face was a little flushed with obvious embarrassment.

Daryl shook his head, "I ain't needing to know this brother...I ain't."

Merle shrugged again, "Whatever." Maybe Daryl would think him a pussy, and if he did? Merle was damned if he was going to be a pussy that was at least going to get some-hopefully. It had been too damned long, and by fuck he wanted her. The fact that she was trying to push him away, just made it all the more tantalizing. And frustrating, if he was totally honest with himself.

"C'mon Merle, them damn snares ain't gonna check themselves," Daryl grunted at his side.

He pulled at his jacket, glancing down at his arm. He'd had to cut the sleeve to be able to wear his prosthetic-it had been that or not wear the jacket. And after all those weeks of not being able to wear his prosthetic, he'd been damned if he was going to be without it for a single minute-especially out in the open.

Merle patted his brother on the back. "Lead the way, Darlina."

"Too damn happy, it wont last," Daryl muttered under his breath as he headed off towards where Carol and Michonne were, Merle trailing good-naturedly behind him.

…

The first spatters of ice chilled rain hit at them as they made their way to the treeline, and Merle narrowed his eyes as he saw Carol shiver against the cold, pulling her makeshift poncho tighter around her. They needed to make good time and find some sort of shelter-but the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere, and there wasn't a single house in sight for miles didn't bode well. As much as he didn't really feel the cold like the others, with the exception of Daryl...(and Merle mused to himself that it was simply because Dixon men always ran hot blooded)-he knew that it wasn't good for the women. With the early onset of winter, the last thing any of them needed was the all to real threat of hypothermia.

Daryl had checked the snares and had come back with three squirrels and a mangy ill begotten looking rabbit. Merle curled his lip at the sight. That wasn't really going to feed them, and they were now on their second day without food. Their sparse supplies had already run out, and all the abandoned houses that they had found, had already been picked clean. It made sense to Merle-whoever was in that group traveling had cleared out most of the buildings on their path, not wanting to venture any further off the main road, or into the woods. He had done and seen similar when he'd gone on forays with the Governor in what now seemed a lifetime ago.

He made his way across to Carol, watching her with concern. "Are ya alright?" he asked softly, frowning and stepping back a pace as she looked up quickly. The look on her face told him that she was still pissed with him.

"I'm fine," she said curtly, turning away from him and making her way towards Michonne.

Before he could stop himself, he had grabbed at her arm, snagging her wrist forcibly in his own tight grip. She glared at him, stepping back and trying to shake his hand off.

"You ain't," he sighed.

She looked at him levelly, her face now a composed mask, "I told you I'm fine, and I am." She glanced down at her wrist, "Let me go?"

He uncurled his fingers from her wrist, watching as she finally turned and walked away from him, and he raised his eyebrow at her receding back, watching her narrowly. He was getting really tired with this crap now, but he didn't quite know how to make it better.

Yes-he had been angry with her, and angry with himself for everything that he had ever done-and the time that they'd spent at Woodbury had filled him with an apathetic self loathing which he had been unable to fight or control. And then...then the stupid woman had nearly gotten herself killed by that damned biter in the bathroom of that house they'd spent the first night in, and that had shaken him to the core. He had been badly scared that she was hurt-that she had been bitten, and the horrid realization had hit him so hard that he didn't want to picture a world without her in it. And he had gotten angry all over again, not knowing what to do...what to say, how to cope and acknowledge the simple unyielding fact that she meant more to him than he had ever realized or thought possible.

If he was brutally honest with himself, the irony wasn't lost on him for one moment. Of all the bitches in the past that had ever wanted him, had wanted to be a part of his life, he had tossed them out into the street without a single damn care. He'd never loved or cared one jot for any damned one of them. He had never thought it possible that he could ever feel like that. Dixon men were cruel hard unfeeling assholes, they never gave a single shit about anything apart from themselves, and Merle had been an advocate of that. The only exception with him-had been his brother.

Growing up with their bullying abusive father had taught him the hard lessons in life, and his stupid weak alcoholic bitch of a mother had taught him others. To get on, you had to be hard headed and heartless, and women were nothing more than weak bitches that made you weak if they got under your skin. And he'd never let anyone get that close. Not until her.

Merle clenched his teeth, his good mood ebbing away. He thought he had the start of a headache thump behind his eyes, and he swatted at his face irritably.

"-a few miles back."

"Yeah, I reckon is where we need to go 'Chonne. I ain't seeing none alternatives," Daryl answered.

Merle raised his head, half listening to their conversation. "Say what?" he asked.

"'Chonne saw a barn a few miles back up the road. Reckon it's the best place to stay overnight and shelter from this rain. Hell weren't ya listening, brother?"

"Huh, I'm hearing ya now," Merle grunted, watching as Carol stood close to his brother. Daryl muttered something to her, and she smiled wanly at him, before heading off to where the SUV was parked.

Daryl pushed the squirrels and rabbit at him. "Shove them in the trunk, will ya Merle?"

Merle watched as Daryl strode over to the car, tugging the drivers door open. "What yer last slave die of, little brother?" he called out, glowering as Daryl ignored him and climbed into the SUV.

Michonne gave him a small smile and climbed in beside his brother, and Merle huffed as he stowed the game into the back of the car, pausing as he saw Michonne sat in the front with his brother. He pulled the side door open, frowning as he sat next to Carol, irritably noticing how she pulled herself away from him and closer to her door, effectively putting yet more distance between them.

He slammed the door shut, glancing at her once more. When they reached the barn, he was going to sort the fuck out of this shit. It had gone on for way too long.

…

They had only gone a few miles, before Michonne had asked Daryl to stop the car, and now they were all stood outside, getting soaking wet in the icy chilled rain that fell heavily, watching and listening with ever mounting curiosity the strange high pitched keening sound that reached them from across the opened out plain. The ever present trees stretched on endlessly to their front.

Michonne looked at them with puzzlement, "What is that noise?"

"Ain't hearin' no damn thing," Merle bit out.

"Shh, listen," Michonne twisted her head, listening intently. She raised her hand, gloved palm facing them. "There it is...again. Can't you hear it?"

Carol frowned and nodded, "I can hear it too."

"Dunno what the hell that is. I'm gonna go look," Daryl glanced at them, shifting his crossbow to his hands and pacing off towards the direction of the noise.

Carol and Michonne followed after Daryl, and Merle reluctantly tagged along, his blood turning to ice in his veins as they got closer to the sound. The wind was catching it in the right direction, and Merle suddenly knew all at once what the sound was...and where the hell they were exactly. His mouth went dry.

"We need'a go. Ain't nothin' to see here," he called out suddenly, watching as Daryl paused to glance over his shoulder at him, his eyes squinting through the thick rain.

"C'mon Merle, ya need ta see this. This is some sort'a fucked up shit, man."

Merle grit his teeth as he moved closer, not really needing to look at what the others were staring at.

It was a large rectangular pit, dug deep down, and filled at the bottom with charred and blackened bodies that were seemingly fused together into one twisted matted hulk of once humanity. Merle knew it for what is was, and those bodies burnt beyond all recognition was one of the last acts that Milton had done-even though it had effectively sealed his fate and subsequent death.

Merle sighed quietly. "It's a biter pit," he said, gazing down at the fused motionless biters, ignoring the sharp glances of the others.

"You know about this?" Carol asked breathlessly to his side. "You knew about this, and you didn't say anything?"

He ignored her for the moment, "See that there? The machine? It's solar powered, one of the first guys at Woodbury, I forget his name-he was an engineer or summat and well, he designed that. It's purpose to lure 'em biters to this pit."

"And those walkers, are from this same pit-the ones that the Governor brought to the prison and dumped on our doorstep?" Michonne asked slowly.

Merle nodded curtly. "Yeah." He noticed that they were all staring at him aghast, even his own brother, and he found that he couldn't take it. "Don't ya go an' judge me over this shit, alright? It weren't my doing. I was there, yeah. But don't...jus' don't fuckin' judge me," he snapped.

He gave them all one last angry look, before turning and striding off back to the SUV, wanting to put as much distance to the pit as he could. He couldn't help but feel sick. It seemed every damn opportunity, Woodbury was determined to haunt him.

He slammed his way into the car, sitting stiffly and damply as the others followed after him and took their respective seats. He stared out of the passenger window, clenching his teeth angrily and leaning his prosthetic arm against the door.

As the car finally pulled off, he was surprised when he felt Carol reach her hand out across to him, taking his hand in hers and curling her fingers tightly around his.

...