Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

a/n: I have been struggling with writing these last few chapters, found that I had writers block and a bad case of silent and stubborn muses. I suppose work and real life has crept in and taken up so much of my time lately. But, I am glad to say that the muses are back (well namely one who is way more vocal than the other) and I am back on track-and am feeling somewhat happy about the newer direction that I am going to take.

Although, Merle has pretty much decided to try and attempt a complete take-over with this fic, and to a degree, I will let him.

...

"So say Glenn, when y'all gonna pussy up on me, huh?" Merle drawled in amusement as he looked at the other men as they casually ambled across where the two cars were parked up. "Y'all ain't exactly looking like the meanest bunch'a assholes out there-except maybe the big guy," he raised an eyebrow, nodding towards Tyreese stood near to the SUV. "Reckon the big fella can handle himself, but I ain't fancying the chances of the rest y'all."

Glenn stared at him over his shoulder as he packed the last plastic box into the trunk of the SUV, "This is my call, my group, Merle. I've done supply runs with them before and there haven't been any issues yet." He slammed the trunk down and walked over to where he stood. "Just do your job and there won't be a problem."

Merle chuckled, "Oh don't ya go worrying about me, Kim. I'll do my bit." He glanced at Zach and Henry, watching as the two younger men leaned against the frame of the car, laughing together. "I just hope yer boy's ain't too wet behind the ears-I ain't comin' along jus' to babysit their goddamn asses."

"They've done this before," Glenn sighed as he turned from him, walking back towards where Tyreese was stood restlessly, his hand touching at the hammer pushed through the thick belt at his waist. Glenn glanced back at Merle, inclining his head a little. "They know what they're doing," he reassured.

"I hope so Chinaman," Merle huffed, looking up sharply at the sound of boots coming from behind and from the direction of the prison block. "Mee'chonne," he called out, watching as the dark skinned woman sauntered across to him. He saw that she had her katana sheathed and strapped across her back, a duffel bag held loosely in one gloved hand. "Yer joining us?" he questioned.

Michonne shook head, her eyes flickering across his to stare down the courtyard. "No. I'm heading off out, thinking of making a detour and maybe head off towards Macon."

"Macon? Why the hell are ya going there? Little out of the normal range, ain't it?" he asked, frowning at her.

"I haven't stopped looking for him, Merle. I have to find him," she breathed, looking at him. She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her dark eyes. "I won't...and I can't give up, not yet."

"Damn, woman," Merle said quickly. "An' you're gonna go out there on yer own?"

She nodded, "It will be easier, quicker. Nobody to slow me down. I will be fine," she said as she saw the concern on his face. "I heard about Carol. Is she okay?" she asked softly.

Merle sighed tightly, scuffing his boots on the ground. His hand fidgeted at his pocket, and he contemplated grabbing at his cigarettes. Her question had taken him by surprise. "She seems to be alright, but I know she ain't."

He'd spent the night alone in his old cell-Carol hadn't wanted him there after she'd woken up-and as much as it had pissed him off, he'd begrudgingly respected her wishes and left her alone, even though it hadn't sat right with him all damn night.

Michonne gestured with her arm, indicating the prison block, "I'm in no hurry to be off, Merle. I can go and look in on her if you-"

"No," he replied curtly. "It's fine, Michonne," he relented a little at the quick look she gave him. "I been an' seen her this morning. She said she's gonna spend time with the kids...I dunno what the hell she's gonna do-an' I didn't ask, but maybe it'll do her some good, an' it ain't as if that bastard can get to her, what with his skanky ass locked up."

Michonne looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Don't hold yourself to blame for what happened, for what you did, Merle. You were protecting her."

He twisted his head away from her cool gaze, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. "Ain't knowing what the hell yer talkin' about, Mee'chonne," he retorted, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and lighting one awkwardly.

He watched her carefully through a plume of smoke. There was something that he wanted to say to her-had been meaning to tell her for a while- but the timing had always been wrong. Now that she was heading off on her own, and for all he knew, if shit went down out there and she didn't come back, he would have lost the chance to tell her, and then he'd have to wrestle with his damn conscience, and he was getting sick and tired of having to deal with that crap.

He took a deep breath and grit his teeth, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. "Hell...I know I ain't never gone an' said shit to ya before, but what ya did- when we went after the Governor?"

Michonne hoisted the duffel bag over her shoulder, her eyes not leaving his. "You don't have to do this, Merle," she warned, looking at him warily.

He raised the cigarette to his mouth and took a deep pull of it, grey smoke spilling from his lips. "Yeah, I know," he replied awkwardly, "But sometimes...shit's gotta be said. I ain't never thanked ya, for changing yer mind."

"You didn't give me much of a chance back then," she said ruefully, shaking her head, her dreadlocks shifting across her shoulders. Merle watched as one slipped and brushed against her face and she raised her hand, pushing it away.

He felt like an asshole at that, but what was done, was done...and there weren't no point damn well crying over it. "What fuckin' ever. But ya know...I reckon I wouldn't have made it if ya hadn't had changed yer mind, Michonne," he grunted. "I know you and Blondie about went an' saved my ass. Gave me a second chance and all. Gave me more time to spend with my baby brother."

"Merle," Michonne said quietly, "Don't go thinking on it too much. You don't have to say anything."

He stared down the courtyard, watching as Zach and Tyreese pulled open the doors of the black Dodge Charger. He grimaced as he saw Glenn staring at him, before he climbed into the SUV. He looked away, raising wary eyes to hers. "Look I know I huh, I ain't exactly a sentimental type of guy, alright? But...hell I jus' wanted ya to know that," he said uncomfortably. Admitting this to Michonne...no matter how pussy it made him feel, seemed to help ease some of the restlessness that had been prickling at him lately.

"I appreciate that." She smiled suddenly, "That was pretty hard for you to say, wasn't it Merle? Losing the tough guy act and saying what was really on your mind for once." She quirked an eyebrow humorously at the sour expression on his face, "Oh don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Ah shut the hell up, Mee'chonne. Ain't you got some place yer supposed to be going to?" he grunted sourly, glancing over his shoulder as Zach repeatedly beeped the horn of the Charger. He sighed, narrowing his eyes, "Impatient asshole. If he does that again, I'm gonna shove that horn right up his fuckin'-"

"Looks like you're going to have fun while I'm away," Michonne interrupted, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Be careful out there, Merle," she said as she paced off towards the Hyundai.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. If ya find him...Blake, what ya gonna do?"

Michonne looked over her shoulder and shrugged, "I don't know. But I'm sure I'll figure something out."

Zach blared the horn again, and Merle swiveled quickly on his heels, striding across to the car and slamming his hand on the roof, leaning in slightly towards the half opened window. "Quit it boy, or I swear to God Im'a smash your teeth in," he growled as he pulled open the passenger door and dropped into his seat, slamming the door shut. "Damned noise is gonna attract them biters."

"Shit...sorry, I didn't think of that," Zach apologized, his eyes widening in sudden realization.

"Ain't no big deal, jus' don't pull a stunt like that again kid, or I'm gonna have to honor my promise to ya." Merle glanced away from him as he awkwardly buckled his seat-belt. "Why don't we jus' get this show on the road already, huh?"

Zach started the car up and pulled out slowly after the SUV, "You wouldn't really do that, would you?" he asked, half glancing at him.

"Who's to know, kid," he smirked. "I'm an unpredictable bastard. Makes life kinda interesting, don't ya think?"

"You're nothing like Daryl," Zach commented as they pulled up to the main gates.

Merle watched as Carl and Karen pulled the gate open, and he caught Carl's eye briefly, giving him a curt nod of his head. It still annoyed him that Rick wouldn't let the kid have his firearm back, and if Merle had his way-he'd find a gun for the boy. In fact, he was pretty damn adamant that he would, and he'd bear any repercussions with his usual good grace. In fact, he'd look forward to it.

"Nothin' like my brother? Yer saying that like it's a bad thing. What's yer name again, kid?" he asked, knowing damn well what his name was.

"It's Zach."

"Zach. An' how many of these runs have ya been on, boy?"

"A few, mostly with Glenn, yeah. I know what I'm doing out there," Zach said confidently as he pulled the car onto the main road. "This isn't my first time."

"Well, jus' as long as we're clear on a few things, Zach...I ain't along on the ride to wet nurse ya. Don't ya be going and screwin' things up. There's more at stake than your own hide to be going on an' thinking about. I ain't got time to be scraping your ass off the ground if you fuck up. Keep yer nose clean an' I ain't seeing that we're gonna have too many problems. Comprende?"

Zach frowned at him, "There won't be a problem."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Tyreese said from the back seat.

Merle pulled the windshield mirror down and stared at Tyreese's reflection, shaking his head. "I ain't thinking so, big guy. Kid needs to know the score."

"I am sat here, you know," Zach grunted. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel and sighed to himself as he concentrated on the road and the SUV in front of them.

"I think you should ease up on him, he knows what's out there. Maybe he should be the one asking you the questions?" Tyreese said slowly, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"You ain't gotta be worrying about me," Merle answered, leaning his prosthetic against the door. "When the shit hits the fan-I'm exactly the kinda guy ya want at yer back. I get the job done-always have done."

Tyreese stared at his reflection for a moment, before nodding his head. "Yeah, I know. I heard about you at Woodbury-"

"What the hell ya hear?" Merle questioned.

"You're efficient and you get things done. Well, that's the polite version," he answered cautiously.

Merle narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "Who told you that?"

"One of the Governor's men, a guy called Martinez," Tyreese replied, his eyes widening as if he was suddenly remembering something. He looked away quickly and stared at his hands as they fidgeted in his lap.

"Huh, ole Brownie," Merle grunted. "Well, that shit ain't mattering none."

He stared out of the passenger window, watching as the long avenue of pines that lined either side of the deserted road blurred into an indistinguishable mix of greys and greens as the car sped past. How Martinez had reacted to him...even though they were supposed to be friends-comrades in arms, still pissed the fuck out of him. He knew that when he'd found the Governor, Martinez had been one of the first to put the boot to him. Literally. Him and that dumb fucking idiot Shumpert. They'd both kicked and beat the crap out of him, along with a few of the other pathetic wannabe Woodbury soldiers. If none of that shit had happened, he was under no doubt that he would have been able to take down that bastard Blake.

Martinez was nothing but a loyal naive dumbass, and even when his own doubts were brought into question-he'd gone and sided with the devil regardless. And if Merle ever saw that traitorous bastard again? He'd return the favor. Like for like. That was if the asshole wasn't already dead.

…

Zach had insisted on questioning Merle at every God given opportunity about his brother, and Merle found that after a while, the kids overwhelming natural exuberance and curiosity was starting to wear quite thin-and quite rapidly. He'd found himself being drawn into some stupid guessing game about what his brother had done before the whole world had turned to shit, and with some humor, he'd told Zach...and had almost convinced the kid that his brother had been in fact a male escort. He'd gone as so far to say that his brother was a good little earner, it seemed the bitches would hand over good money for a bit of rough assed redneck Dixon dick in them.

Zach had stared at him, his mouth hanging open, almost believing the tale as Merle elaborated on it more and more.

Almost.

The fact that he'd been unable to stop himself from laughing at the stunned look on Zach's face had kind of given the game away. Merle loved the irony-while it seemed that yes, the ladies sure did like his little brother...Daryl had spent most of his life bumbling away in complete and utter ignorance.

As the miles stretched out in front of them, Merle had found himself surprisingly warming to the younger man. The fact that Zach had lived a far different life to him and his brother was not lost on him for one moment-and he'd found himself curiously being drawn and interested as Zach spoke of his family, his home-life and upbringing and of his days at college.

If the world hadn't gone to crap, Merle was under no doubt that kids like Zach would have gone far in the world. Guys like him would have married the girl that they'd loved since prom and high school, the job that they'd worked hard at and deserved, the whole stable family unit and the white picketed fence and dream home-something that worthless uncivilized common rednecks like him and his brother could never have even imagined possible.

But the realization smacked home hard that he'd never been there for Daryl, he had never done enough for him. He'd wasted the majority of his life running scared and trying to bury the past in a destructive cocktail of drink, drugs and meaningless sex. He should have just manned the fuck up long ago and gotten his little brother out of that shitty fucking hell hole. He should have provided for him, nurtured and given him the chance of a life that was way beyond from the shit that they'd lived...and that he felt himself, he had no right to and didn't deserve.

It had taken the world to fall apart for him to realize that-and now? Now it was too fucking late. Daryl had to make do, the same as the rest of them. He'd never know any different now, and Merle knew he was the one to blame for that.

…

They'd stopped before he had even noticed-he'd retreated so deeply within himself that he'd lost all sense of time and of his surroundings, and he glanced up quickly as Zach nudged at his arm, rousing him from his thoughts.

"We're here," Zach said as he parked the Dodge up. He unbuckled his seat belt and looked at Merle before shoving his door open. The younger man stretched his arms over his head, grinning as Tyreese lumbered over to him, his hand swatting at the claw hammer at his waist.

"You ready for this, Ty?" Zach asked.

Merle shoved his own door open, climbing out as Glenn paced over to them.

Tyreese stared at Zach for a moment, before tearing his eyes away and staring across at the large grey formidable rectangular buildings that lay a short distance across a cardboard and refuse littered parking bay. He nodded quickly, but didn't answer.

Large steel shutters hung down, two bent and twisted, the gaping darkness thick and impenetrable within. Merle looked at the warehouses appraisingly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced away from them. Several large trucks sat parked up and abandoned, windscreens thick with dirt and grime. As he watched, a breeze picked up momentum, blowing across the loading bay and ruffling pieces of long discarded paper, fluttering them like confetti that chased across the dull tarmac.

"We all stick together in the groups that we traveled with. I don't want anyone separating. Merle?" Glenn looked at him questioningly, as if waiting for him to retaliate, but Merle felt mildly confident enough to trust him. This was his show, and Merle was curious as to how it would go down.

Glenn watched him for a moment, before nodding his head. His eyes drifted away from Merle's to sweep across the other men. "I've got Henry and Bob. We'll run a quick scout around before we gather the supplies. I won't take any chances-if anything goes down, stick to your group and back out. Don't take any chances-and don't go back. I won't put the whole group at risk-we cant. I know you already have, but check your weapons, check you have enough ammo. We don't want to use our guns-only use them as a last resort."

Merle watched as Zach and Henry drew the pistols from the holsters slung at their waists, checking their ammo clips and snapping them back sharply. He didn't have to check his. It had been drummed into him what seemed a life time ago. He noticed that the Asian looked calm, in control of the situation, and Merle felt a small tick of begrudging respect at the way that he was organizing shit.

Glenn nodded at the two men stood with him, watching as Bob slipped the machete from out of his belt. Henry stood almost impassively, a Bowie knife held firmly in his hand. Glenn drew out his own blade and glanced at them again as he stepped quickly away, the two men following silently behind him.

Merle's head snapped sharply to the left and he stepped forward quickly, a small grin tugging at his mouth as he saw a small group of biters ambling a short distance away. It amazed him how the dumb fucks could suddenly appear-but the truth of it was, the biters were never ever far away-they were like goddamn rats. He vaguely remembered back in his old life, hearing his Pa in one of his less inebriated moments complaining loudly about the incessant vermin scurrying about in their back yard, and his mother stating that supposedly you never lived more than six foot away from a rat; the vermin living so close because of the masses of human crap and garbage. He'd thought that funny and scary as shit as a kid, because their own backyard resembled a junkyard-the carcases of rotting and rusted out vehicles misused and forgotten, and on more than one occasion, he'd had to go and rescue and soothe his inquisitive fearful younger brother, as Daryl had hid out crying and whimpering inside one or two of the rotting rust buckets.

He rubbed his hand over his thin beard and grimaced-it wasn't long before one of the biters noticed that they were there, and as soon as one noticed-it wouldn't take long before others did too. Merle stepped across the loading bay, his boots kicking up flurries of dirt and scraps of paper. The wind whipped up a little stronger, blowing pieces that wrapped around his ankles, before they fluttered away and tumbled end over end across the asphalt. He raised his prosthetic limb ready, his mouth fixing into a firm tight line as he regarded the biters.

Tyreese was puffing slightly at his side, and Merle glanced at him. "You alright?" he asked quietly, watching as Tyreese fretted. "This ain't no time to be having no goddamn meltdown. Get yer shit together," he hissed.

Tyreese nodded quickly and pawed at the woolen beanie on his head, smoothing it into place. "I'm fine brother. I'm fine," he said.

Merle was about to retort that he weren't no fucking brother to no big assed nigger when he noticed the sweat beading at Tyreese's brow. "What the hell is yer problem?" he asked, grimacing. "This ain't the time to lose yer bottle. Cool it the hell down, big guy."

"Back at the prison, killing the walkers at the fences, you see them...you see who they were after a while," Tyreese replied, shaking his head. "I ain't ever been happy killing them that way...I can't bear to look at their faces," he explained. "I know what we're doing out here is different. I just forget. It ain't nothing but nerves, man-I'm cool."

Merle frowned at him. He'd thought that the big guy had been on supply runs before, but he was acting like he was about to crap his goddamn pants. "Nut the fuck up," he glowered, his gaze shifting past him and towards the two younger men as they entered the building alongside Glenn. "Ya ain't seeing them act all pussy. Set an example, for Christ's sake."

Tyreese exhaled sharply, tugging the hammer from his belt, his fingers flexing over it. "I'm good," he said firmly, looking at Merle. He nodded quickly, "I'm good. Ain't going to be a problem, brother."

He was about to reply that Tyreese wasn't looking as good as he was damn well insisting he was, when the low growling of a biter reached across to him. "Ya wanna show me if ya can handle this shit?" he asked. "That ya ain't a goddamn pussy?"

The big man glowered at him, and Merle couldn't help but smirk at the indignant expression that spread slowly across Tyreese's face. His fingers flexed more tightly over the handle of the hammer, holding it firmly, and he shot Merle a quick withering look before striding across and meeting the biter head on.

The biter slithered to the floor, its pulpy head caved in, and Tyreese raised the hammer again, smashing it into the side of another undead walking asshole. The big man ignored the body as it hit the ground with a muted dull thump, and Merle watched in surprise as Tyreese waded into the small throng of biters, the hammer repeatedly smashing into their heads.

The heavy silence in the air was interrupted by the dull thumping sound of his hammer, the bodies tumbling to the ground, the sounds of Tyreese's breath hitching in his chest and expelling out in small grunting gasps.

Soon, there were no more of the biters standing, and Merle looked across as Zach stood near to him, his mouth hanging slightly open in the same casual surprise that he felt himself. He turned his head, his eyes meeting Zach's. He saw the same what the fuck question in the kids dark eyes.

Tyreese looked at them both pointedly, "I told you, I'm good."

"Damn fuckin' straight ya are," Merle rasped softly, raising his eyebrows and slowly starting to smile.

...

He was staring at a large dubiously stained cardboard box at eye level on the sturdy gun metal shelving as Zach held the flashlight and shone it at the box.

"Ain't knowing what we got here," he said to the kid, briefly looking at Zach as he nodded back at him in agreement. The last few boxes that they'd found had yielded fuck all of any use to them and the group back at the prison.

He stabbed at the box with the blade of his prosthetic, cutting a jagged 'X' into the thick cardboard. "Shine the light higher, kid," he grunted quietly as Zach did as he was told. Merle sighed, hoping and wishing that this damn box full of crap would hold out more promise than the last two fucking boxes.

He shoved his hand through the cardboard, his fingers reaching and grasping, then tightening. He pulled his hand out, staring at what lay in his opened palm as Zach shone the light at him. "Shit yeah," he grinned. "We been an' gone done better on this damn one," he said, staring at the sealed pack of batteries in his hand.

"Not so bad," Zach smiled back at him.

Merle nodded in agreement, knowing that this big assed box of batteries would be very highly beneficial to the prison. And as luck would have it for once in their favor-the batteries were of the right type that would fit the storm lamps that most of them had been using in their cells.

"Say kid," Merle asked quietly, "Would ya get the box off that shelf and drag it over there?" he indicated the steel shutter door that they'd come through with a swift curt nod of his head.

Zach didn't answer, he just stuffed the flashlight into his mouth, holding it between his teeth as he pulled the box from the shelving. Merle watched as the kid carried the box away, before looking back across towards Tyreese, at the light that flashed and danced across the box filled isle that he was stood in.

"Ya found anything?" he called out softly.

Tyreese sighed, "No, not unless you want a whole box full of Barbie's."

"Huh?" Merle grunted.

"Dolls. That's all that's here. Checked a few, but it's full of nothing but kids stuff." Tyreese chuckled softly, "Sasha had a whole load of these when she weren't nothing more than a-"

Merle paced away irritably. He didn't have time to hear that the big dumbasses sister had a penchant for lame assed dolls when she were a kid.

"Glenn. Glenn! You need to look at this!"

He glanced up quickly at the sound of excitement lacing Henry's voice.

"Dude...shush it up, Henry. Keep your voice down," Glenn answered swiftly, and Merle turned his head, listening and trying to pinpoint the direction of their voices. They were separated between the long thick seemingly never ending walls of brown cardboard, the sounds of their voices muffled in the large vast room.

"I know," Henry answered, "But you've got to see this. Meatballs! I found cans of meatballs. Do you know how long it's been since I last had these?"

Merle moved down the isle, shaking his head in amusement. He let his fingers trail across the shelving, stopping as he come across the next box. He looked towards the shutter doors, the light bouncing across the floor as Zach made to come back over to them.

He paused as his ears picked up the sound of a low throaty moan, and he swiveled his head side to side. A room this size, surrounded by the walls of cardboard, and it was easy to lose all sense of direction-especially in the thick unrelenting darkness that smothered them

"Shit. Oh my God...shit...Glenn!" Henry yelped out suddenly.

Merle stiffened, his palm resting against the box. He frowned at Zach, watching in the faint light as the young man gaped. Tyreese's flashlight bounced across towards them, and Merle heard his low gasp of wary surprise.

Boxes spilled to the ground loudly, the dull thumps echoing suddenly in the heavy stillness and the beams of the flashlights suddenly flashed all around. Merle looked quickly to Tyreese. "Follow me," he barked out, looking over his shoulder at Zach. "Kid... go back an' guard the entrance. Do it now, for fucks sake," he snapped as Zach stared at him wildly in confusion.

Merle raced down the isles, his prosthetic held out before him, and he stopped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he saw Glenn stumble backwards, his arms flailing and his shoulders hitting the metal shelving, a biter clawing and falling on top of him as he hit the floor.

His flashlight hit the ground and rolled a few feet away, the yellowing beams lighting and showing the dark anguish and fear in Glenn's eyes as he grappled with the biter.

...