Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

a/n: I really felt the need for a little light, I suppose almost fluffy interlude between the last chapter and the one to come.

Edited chapter.

...

Carol wasn't sure just how long he had been asleep with his head laying on her lap, but it must have been a while because of the tingling numbness in her thigh. She longed to move him and regain the circulation in her leg but as she looked down at him, she found that she didn't have the heart to do it. Not quite yet.

He had fallen heavily asleep and his dreams hadn't been kind at all. He'd murmured a few times and at one point his arm had flailed and he had smacked his prosthetic solidly into the bunk, and it had taken her a while to try to sooth him. She knew from the past that if she moved...or woke him abruptly, he would at times almost panic- as if he didn't know where he was or even who he was with. She'd learnt mostly to leave him to wake on his own, or to try to placate him like the few times she had brought him out of his bad dreams with soft words and even softer gestures.

His eyes were moving rapidly under his closed lids, and she brushed her fingers gently through his hair, sighing as she watched him, wondering what he was dreaming about. He was looking older than he did when she'd first known him at the quarry; there were patches of gray in the beard coating his chin and wisping across his cheeks and in the soft small curls of his hair. The lines in his face were more pronounced, tiredness marking its severity under his eyes with thick dark smudges.

She supposed none of them looked the same as they once did-the constant pressure of trying to live, trying to survive in this world was leaving its mark on them all-and she felt a grim satisfaction that almost bordered on pitiful pride that she looked or felt nothing like the woman that she had been. With some irony she knew that Ed would have never stayed with this group at the prison, he would have left long before and taken her with him. She had no doubt that they probably wouldn't have even survived- Ed had been stupid and naive back then-believing that everything would work out just damn fine, the National Guard would've saved them all. He couldn't even save himself, the stupid pathetic man.

Carol grimaced-knowing how much Ed wouldn't have wanted any part of this, any of it. He wouldn't have ever tried to change and fit in and work within the group-and she realized just how much she had changed in that time. He would never have approved; he'd always liked her docile and terrified of him and of everything, and she remembered his twisted amusement and his resentful loathing of her at the quarry, his volatile temper and the way that he used to press himself on her in the confines of their own tent, his breath hot and rank against her skin as he'd bear down on her, hurting and bruising her in places that would never be seen. Her own fear and disgust as she gave in fighting and let him brutally use her-wondering all the while that he did it...did it even count as rape if it were her own husband? Ed had always said it was nothing more than a man's right as a husband-but she knew a lot better now than she did back then.

She was a different woman, and if he hadn't had died, she swore that she would have put down that sick fuck herself. For how he'd look at her...how his lust filled gaze had started traveling past her to their daughter.

Carol swallowed thickly, feeling the bitterness of nausea sting and burn at the back of her throat. It didn't pay to dwell on the past, her thoughts would run rampant, running around in never-ending exhausting circles in her head. Ed was dead and that was all that mattered. He was gone... but she wondered tiredly just how long the ghost of him would continue to haunt her.

She glanced down at the sleeping man. Merle was everything that Ed wasn't. He had never forced himself on her. He was gentle, despite his rough abrasive manner and his natural surliness, and she knew that he never meant anything by it, not with her. She felt that she didn't deserve this gentleness from him...not with any man. How could anyone possibly want her after Ed...but Merle had surprised her and she in turn had surprised herself by falling in love with him. She hadn't meant for it to happen at all, but it had.

He grumbled in his sleep as she placed her hand under his head and eased away from him, and she froze, not wanting to disturb him. She waited a few seconds before inching her way from the bunk, watching quietly as he settled back down. Her leg felt numb and she rubbed her hand swiftly over the muscles, trying to rub the life back into herself as she gazed around the small cell. Light still streamed through the top of the window of her cell, and she supposed that it had to be at least late afternoon by now. She'd lost all track of time, but it was an easy thing to do.

Carol glanced down, something dark and bundled near to the bunk catching her eye and she knelt on the floor, picking Merle's old shirt up, twisting the fabric in her hands. He'd wanted to know why the hell she was trying to fix the tattered garment, but she would never tell him. He'd worn it when he'd gone off in pursuit of the Governor, and she kept it for sentimental reasons, knowing that he could have died...that he very nearly did die, and it was at that moment that she finally acknowledged the fact that she'd started to think of him more than just 'Daryl's asshole of a brother'. She smiled wryly at a sudden thought-if Merle had any idea that was why she'd been keeping the shirt, she was under no illusion that he would berate her ass and toss it in with the trash.

She was about to get to her feet when she noticed a backpack pushed under the frame of the bunk, one strap trailing across the dusty floor. She placed one hand on the mattress, the shirt in her lap as she leaned under and dragged it out by its strap, and she peeked up quickly, feeling her cheeks starting to flame with guilt. She hadn't put it there, and curiously she slowly unzipped it, frowning as she saw several items of her own clothing nestled inside with bottles of water, cans of food, a flashlight. She sat back on her haunches, shaking her head and wondering what the hell, and as she peered back under the frame, she saw another backpack-slightly larger, and obviously full from the way its sides were bulging.

The scuffle of boots on metal just outside her cell made her sit back up rapidly and she grabbed the shirt from off her knees and thrust it inside, zipping the backpack up quickly and pushing it back. She got to her feet, her cheeks still flushing, and she glanced guiltily across as Daryl leaned against the railings with his back to her, just outside of the cell.

She smoothed her hand over her hair and rubbed at her cheeks as she stepped out of the cell, casting a quick glance back at Merle on the bunk.

"That asshole ever gonna wake?" Daryl asked as he pulled a cigarette from out of the pocket of his leather vest.

"Don't be so mean," she chided as she leaned her back to the railings, her arm bumping against his. "How long have you been out here?"

"Long enough," he said softly.

"Long enough for what?"

Daryl shrugged as he inhaled on his cigarette, letting the smoke plume out of his mouth as he rolled the butt of the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. "Nothin'. Did he tell you 'bout that run?"

"He told me some, but not all of it," she said, leaning across the railings and glancing down at the floor below. She saw Tyreese and Sasha sat close together, watched as Tyreese looked up suddenly, a big smile plastered on his face as Karen came across to him and his sister, waving in greeting to her. "I didn't ask."

"He tell ya 'bout that damn helicopter?" Daryl asked.

Carol glanced at him quickly, her eyes narrowing. "Helicopter?"

Daryl shifted on his feet and leaned his back more to the railings. "Yeah, just after the shit went down with Henry and all them damn walkers dropping out'a the sky-"

"Daryl?"

He looked at her in surprise and frowned, "Merle didn't tell ya 'bout that either?"

"No. No, he didn't," she sighed as she turned to face him. "I know the run went to hell. He said that much."

"I ain't seen anything like it before, Carol-and I hope to God I don't again. Walkers dropping like that out of the ceiling, shit man, was rough. Couldn't save Henry, weren't possible-couldn't even put the sad fuck out of his misery. Damn 'copter must'a been on the roof the whole time. Came crashin' down on us, was luck we all got the hell out'a there." He dragged on his smoke again, shaking his head at the memory. "Merle? He didn't take it so well. I dunno what the fuck."

"Jesus," she frowned, glancing back towards the cell.

"We made it out. Am thankful for that."

"Not everyone made it," she reminded him, and almost regretted what she'd said as a dark look passed swiftly across the bright blues of his gaze. "It's been a while since we lost anyone. It happens Daryl."

"Mhm," he answered, taking a last pull on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and scuffing the toe of his boot across the embering butt.

They both glanced sharply at each other at the sound of a rumbling snore coming from across the cell, and she raised her hand to cover her mouth, trying to fight back a reluctant smile as Daryl rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Big fucking dumbass," he grunted as he leant his back against the railings, fidgeting and picking at loose threads that dangled from the edge of his ripped and stained shirt.

They stood a while in silence, and Carol tried not to think about the run both of the brothers had been on. She didn't know what she would do if she'd lost either of them. It was a thought that she stoically refused to give voice to and acknowledge.

"Heard you were popular today," she said suddenly, smiling at the embarrassment that flooded across his cheeks.

"Shit. Not you as well," Daryl mouthed sourly. "It ain't funny, Carol." He raised his hand and stared at his fingers before chewing at his thumbnail.

"Keep bringing home turkeys? You're gonna have to deal with the love and the fame," she teased.

"Pffft," Daryl leaned to her and bumped his hand on her arm, jostling her. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he smirked at her expression. "Stop." He glanced over to the cell, "Reckon is about time for dinner-you gonna wake that asshole brother of mine?"

"Yeah. Go on without us, we'll join you later," she said, shrugging as she moved away from the railings and stepped over the entrance of the cell. "Daryl?" she called out, as he stopped and looked across at her. "Go easy on him."

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, then he nodded his head and moved hurriedly down the gangway, his boots thudding loudly against the metal. Carol watched as he left then turned back towards the cell, looking in surprise as Merle sat on the bunk, propping himself up with his prosthesis as he rubbed sleepily at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked suspiciously.

"Don't ya go an' bitch my ass already mouse," he rasped. "Why the hell did ya let me sleep?"

She leaned her shoulder to the wall and smiled, remembering a time when she had asked him the same thing. She gave him his own answer back. "Didn't want to wake you. You were quiet."

"Huh?" he frowned.

"Never mind." She saw with some amusement that his hair was ruffled and messy.

"The hell ya lookin' at me like that for?" he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing, just your hair. It's sticking up," she laughed.

He raised his eyebrow as a slow lazy grin spread across his face. "Ya need'a come over here darlin', an' I'll show ya summat else that's sticking up."

"Dinner first, then we've got a watch shift to take, you know that Merle," she said as she tried to ignore as he patted at the space next to him on the bunk. "If we don't go now, there might not be anything left. You need to eat," she chastised, stopping when she saw the sudden hurt in his eyes. She went across and perched on the edge of the bunk, looking at him in concern.

"You deserve better than the shit I give ya," he mumbled, glancing away from her and staring at the far wall.

"What is it?" she asked softly, reaching across and resting her hand on his prosthetic. "What's wrong?"

He shrugged and fell silent for a moment, "Ain't nothin' wrong. I jus'... hell, I don't know. Wanted ya to make shit better. Forget it," he said brusquely, shoving her hand away as he pushed himself to the edge of the bunk.

Carol sighed, not really knowing what was wrong but knowing that something was suddenly bothering him. She caught his arm just above the metal of his prosthetic, and he glanced at her sullenly as she slipped across the bunk towards him. "Don't you tell me to forget it. I won't. Something's wrong-"

"I done enough talkin' an' this ain't nothin' I'm wanting to discuss, alright? Jus' drop it mouse," he said uneasily.

She looked at him shrewdly, saw how uncomfortable he was becoming, the way that he was nervously biting at the inside of his cheek. She knew from old that there was one thing that could affect him as much as it was doing now. "Is this about Woodbury? Something that happened there?"

He turned his head away from her and shrugged again, "I told ya, I ain't wanting to discuss it."

She watched as the blood at his temple pulsed, the way that he was sitting restlessly on the bunk. Nothing was ever easy with him-he'd seen and been through too much, but she wouldn't push him to tell her anything that he didn't want to say-she'd never done that with him. If he wanted to tell her, then she would just wait until he was ready. It was one thing she had learnt from her time with his brother. Daryl had been the same, and she was reminded again just how similar and yet how so unlike both of the brothers could be.

"Oh Merle," she said softly, reaching out and catching his chin with her hand. She turned his head slowly to face hers and he met her gaze reluctantly. "Daryl's right. Sometimes, you really are a dumbass."

Merle looked at her in surprise, his eyes widening, "The hell?"

She smiled as she touched at his jaw with her fingertips. "You heard me," she said softly.

"Yer calling me a dumbass?" he grimaced. "You've been spending too much time with my damn brother."

She leaned towards him, her fingers stroking at his beard and he stiffened warily as she slipped her hand up his arm and around his shoulder. "I thought I spent a lot of my time with you," she smiled. He turned his head slowly, his smoky blue eyes fixed narrowly on hers, and she felt a pang at the tiredness still evident in his gaze. She leaned to him, her fingers catching his chin, holding him there as she pressed her lips softly to his. As tired as he seemed she mused to herself, it didn't stop him from kissing her back, his arm slipping around her waist and holding her close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking and pressing against her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest as she leaned further into him, and he chuckled suddenly, the sound like music to her ears.

She kissed him again, briefly, as she pushed herself away, and she smiled again at the petulant look he shot her.

"Later," she said absentmindedly-her mind already on other things, wondering if she should go down and help with the evening meal. "We should go, I swear we're going to miss dinner. Daryl's waiting for us."

...

As they walked slowly into the main wing of C-block she suddenly felt frustrated by the fact that almost everyone was sitting at the tables, and that she hadn't helped in any way. She walked over to the small kitchen area, as Maggie and Beth started to serve up the evening meal.

"Can I help?" she asked.

Maggie smiled at her, "We're good. Just go and sit yourself down. We'll bring it over-"

"There's nothing I can do?" she said in surprise. "What about D-block?"

"Apart from Karen and a few others, we're keeping to our own groups," Beth replied. "It's how they wanted this. I don't know why," she shrugged.

"Be thankful Bethy. It means less for us and more for them to do. Carol? Go sit, we've got this," Maggie said, and Carol sighed at the look on the younger woman's face. She knew that there wasn't much point in arguing with Maggie in this frame of mind. She raised her eyebrows as she paced restlessly back across the room to where Merle stood, waiting.

"They ain't needin' ya?" he asked.

She frowned, "No. No they're not."

"Good," he grinned. "Now ya can come an' sit with me, an' ya can quit buggin' my ass if they're wanting yer help or not," he said as he strode over to where his brother sat, Carol trailing behind him.

"Now that we're finally all here," Hershel said pointedly, "I'd like to say grace. To thank the Good Lord for what he has provided us with today, and to thank Daryl for being the instrument of God's hands and aiding in the provision with this bountiful feast-"

"Rick's not here yet, Hershel," Glenn broke in, looking around the room.

"Ya really think ole man Hershel's laying it on a bit fuckin' thick, huh?" Merle asked quietly as they took their seats at the table next to Daryl.

Carol glanced at his brother and saw how he was hanging his head and trying awkwardly to avoid everyone's gaze. "I think Daryl's starting to regret ever going on that hunting run," she whispered as she sat down in her seat. "What are you doing?" she asked as Merle shifted his chair closer to hers.

"Sittin' next to ya," Merle smiled, and as she looked at him, it was obvious to her that he'd seen the suspicion written all over her face. "Hell...I'm jus' being nice to ya, darlin'," he complained. "Ya know- wantin' to spend time an' be with ya an' all that shit."

Carol frowned, then looked up quickly as Rick strode loudly across the room, a grumbling Judith held tightly in his arms. He took a seat at a table where Carl and Michonne were sat waiting, and mumbled a quick apology before beckoning for Hershel to continue.

"Nice to see ya grace us with yer presence, Officer," Merle drawled.

Rick turned in his seat and glanced across at him, and Carol saw the sullen cast drop on Merle's face, the way his mouth suddenly pulled downwards.

"I'm even tryin' to be nice to that asshole. Though he ain't worth jack fuckin' shit to me," he said sourly.

"I know," she answered, reaching out to him underneath the table and laying her hand sympathetically on his thigh. She squeezed his leg, hoping that he would realize that she did understand and that she could see that he was at least trying to make some sort of effort.

He leaned under the table and placed his hand over hers, his palm laying flat and warm on the back of her hand, his fingers touching and brushing gently against hers. She smiled at him as he leaned closer, his shoulder bumping hers.

Hershel looked around the room, his bushy white eyebrows knitting together. "Are we all here?"

"Food's getting cold," Daryl bumped his arm against his plate, and looked up guiltily.

Carol stared at her own plate, the heady aroma rising up and tantalizing her. It was nothing more than cold cuts of turkey and a few canned vegetables-potatoes and a few sparse mixed greens, the best of what they had. But it made no difference to her, she was grateful for it. This was by all probability the best meal that they would have in for what seemed like months.

She looked up quickly at Merle in question as she felt her hand being moved and she wondered irritably if he'd misunderstood her act of sympathy towards him. She narrowed her eyes in warning, "Merle, what are you-"

He smirked as he leaned his head closer to hers, "Shh little mouse, don't ya be going an' telling everyone here," he whispered smugly.

He sat up in his seat a little as Hershel's voice reached out to them in the sudden silence of the prison wing. "Whether we eat or drink, or whatsoever else we do, we do all to the glory of God," Hershel said, bowing his head respectfully.

"Mouse," Merle whispered softly as he pressed his hand more firmly to hers. "Ya got the sweetest little hands when they're...ya know. Where they are right now. An' I know ya got the sweetest little mouth-"

"Fuck's sake brother," Daryl hissed as he leaned over the table, "Merle-show some goddamn fucking respect, man."

"I ain't doing no damn thing," Merle rasped as he leaned his prosthetic arm against the table top.

"The hell ya are," Daryl retorted, pushing back in his seat, stopping and staring across the room as the others looked at him in surprise. His cheeks started to flame in embarrassment.

Hershel cleared his throat loudly, waiting as Daryl sat back in his seat reluctantly. He waited a few moments, before continuing. "We ask that you bless this food to our bodies Lord, and let us hold you in our hearts. In Jesus name we pray, Amen."

"Amen and thank fuck for that," Daryl murmured as he dragged his plate closer.

Carol mentally echoed Daryl's sentiments as she pulled her own plate towards her, and for a while, the only sound in the room was soft murmured voices, and the clinking of cutlery against the chipped china plates.

…

"I'm going to see if Maggie and Beth will at least let me help them clear the plates away," she said as she nudged Merle's arm with her hand as she got to her feet.

"Ya ain't gotta help them. Sit the hell back down, woman," he glowered. "Ya do enough. Let 'em do somethin' for you for a change."

She shook her head as she picked her plate up, and stacked it with his and Daryl's. "I don't see it like that Merle, and you know it." She didn't wait for him to answer, she picked the plates up and carried them off to the small kitchen area, feeling his eyes burning on her as she moved away.

"Carol?" Beth said, "We can do this. We don't need you."

"I want to help," she smiled.

"I know," Beth answered, "But daddy always says that we have our own jobs to do, and this time we can manage."

"It's fine," Maggie said as she took the crockery off Carol. "You do enough around the prison. You're always so busy with the children."

"Judith's enough for me," Beth added.

"You do more than enough with her," Maggie chided her sister.

"It isn't a problem Mags. Judith's a good baby," Beth retorted.

"You're both making me feel redundant," Carol sighed, "A little useless and surplus to requirements-"

"Carol?" Maggie said, "Just go. Spend some time...I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but yeah. Go and spend some time with Merle."

"If you're sure..."

"We are," Maggie smiled.

Carol knew by the looks on their faces that they were not going to be persuaded anytime soon and she mumbled her reluctant thanks as she walked back across the wing to the table where both the brothers sat. She watched them for a moment, smiling. They were talking quietly amongst themselves and she saw Merle thump his brother softly in the arm, saw the way that Daryl grinned back at him suddenly.

She glanced across the wing, her eyes drifting and resting on Rick. He was talking to Michonne, Carl sat riveted in his seat as he watched his father and the dark skinned samurai. She felt the sudden necessity to talk to Rick, wanting him to answer the one question that she kept to herself.

"Rick, could I have a word?" she found herself asking, not quite knowing how or when her feet had propelled herself across the floor towards him.

Rick glanced at her, and nodded, "Sure, what's wrong, Carol?" he asked as he handed Judith over to Carl.

"In private?" she asked, her heart starting to tremor deep in her chest.

He got to his feet and touched at her shoulder, his hand resting there momentarily. He tilted his head to one side, his blue eyes fixed on hers.

She didn't know how to say it, and for a moment she thought carefully on her words, unsurety crowding at her thoughts. Rick just watched her, letting her take the time to gather her thoughts.

"This...with Scott," she said warily, watching as he glanced away from her, the sound of his cowboy boots scuffing against the worn concrete. "I need to know what happened. What did you do?"

Rick didn't answer her right away, he gazed across the prison before swatting at his beard with one hand. "Why do you need to know?" he asked curtly.

"I don't know. Closure?" she suggested.

"He's gone, and that's all you need to know. I took him out there. I Left him, with supplies. I took him out there and now he's gone and he wont hurt you, or anyone else here at the prison."

"Like Randall?" she said, instantly regretting her words as he twisted his head quickly to stare at her.

"Not the same. It isn't the same damn thing Carol. I thought," he grimaced momentarily. "I thought you would be happy with this."

"I can't be happy if I don't know," she answered.

"I've had to make decisions, hard choices I'm sure that everyone isn't happy with. But I've had to make them. I'll do what I can to protect this group. You're not stupid Carol. You know exactly what is out there...what we face daily. You have to do what you feel is the right damn thing at the time to protect your own. Your family. The group as a whole. You've been teaching the children, and I know I'm not exactly happy about any of that-but, you're doing what you think- what you feel is the best to survive. To give them a chance. It's what I do."

"You're not going to tell me?"

"No," Rick said, shaking his head. "I gave him a chance. More than he deserved."

She knew that he wasn't going to tell her anything, and she felt the frustration seethe within herself. It seemed that she was never going to know. "Thank you Rick," she said as she moved away.

"You're welcome. I think...I think I'm going to try and see if I can get Judith to settle for the night. Carl promised to read her a bedtime story, and I'm thankful that she's too young to know the difference between Wolverine and the Hulk," he smiled. "Damn comic books. I promised 'Chonne that I'd beat her at a game of chess. Although, between us, I think she might have the upper hand on me."

"Good luck with that," she smiled.

...

"Remember back at that barn? I told ya that it works, an' ya didn't damn well believe me."

"What works?" Daryl frowned.

"Ya know. Merle charm. I got it an' you ain't. That's always been your problem, Daryl. You jus' ain't never seeing how the lil women like it."

"The hell, Merle?" Daryl laughed. "Reckon all that meth ya smoked with yer damn tweaker friends gone fucked ya head up big time."

"Maybe," Merle conceded. "But least I'm gonna get me some, an' you fuckin' ain't," he grinned.

"Yer an asshole," Daryl grunted.

"Whatever. But right now little brother? I'm a happy fuckin' one."

Carol pursed her lips and frowned as she looked across at Merle and Daryl, watching as they stood almost huddled conspiratorially together. She'd half heard their conversation as she made her way back over towards them. "Is that so?" she asked, taking some satisfaction as Merle looked at her in surprise and the way that his brother was now smirking at the both of them.

"Weren't saying nothin' that weren't meant for ya sweet little ears," Merle smiled innocently.

"The fuck ya were," Daryl smirked.

Merle ignored his brother, "What did that asshole want?"

"Who? Rick?" she asked. She shook her head, smiling at Daryl as he made his excuses and left them. She sighed tiredly as she watched him walk across the cell block wing, and then she turned to look back at Merle. "It was nothing. Just haven't had a chance to catch up with him. Don't worry," she said as he grimaced. "It wasn't anything like that."

Merle huffed, "Well, whatever mouse. Ya coming to take this watch with me?"

"Said I would, Merle," she yawned suddenly and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Yer tired. Ya need to go an' get some rest."

"I said I would come and take watch with you," she said softly. "And I'm not in the habit of breaking promises."

He watched her for a moment, noting that she was looking tired. "Henry was taking watch at tower three. There's blankets there, ya can go an' lay down if you're still insisting on coming with me."

"You asked me to," she reminded him as they walked to the entrance.

Merle chuckled as he placed his hand on the door, pushing it open with a rusty squeal. "Yeah I know I did, an' if yer lucky, I might even let ya sleep in a little."

"How romantic," she said as she stepped out into the courtyard.

"Told ya before darlin'. I'm all hearts an' flowers."

...