Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

There was something wrong and Merle wasn't a complete idiot to not notice, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. He knew that Carol would be pissed with him for what he'd done, and he could deal with that. Hell- if she'd done the same damn thing, he would've been annoyed as fuck with her too. But it was true what he'd told her-he wasn't prepared for anything to stop him from being with her, and shit...there was nothing that was going to stop him being near his brother either.

He'd quit and run too many fucking times in the past, and it was only now that he was starting to really understand what it meant to have 'family' here, and in this present time. To really have family around-something to live and something to damn well fight for. He'd thought he'd been done with that shit when he'd lived in Woodbury- having no family meant no emotional bonds, nothing to hold him back, nothing to make him pathetic, slow and weak. He could live how the hell he chose, fuck whoever he wanted to fuck without any responsibilities. He'd been someone there-someone powerful, strong, someone of actual damned importance...but he'd always been lonely, even if he'd never admitted that to himself.

It wasn't until he'd been accepted into the prison with her and his brother that he realized it all meant jack fucking shit. It meant nothing. At Woodbury, he'd only been a pathetic newer version of his old worthless self before the turn, when it had been nothing but him and Daryl and their brutal bastard of a father.

He'd been an asshole back then. Now-he was an asshole that badly wanted to change, wanted to be someone that he didn't know could even live inside of him. It mildly annoyed him that Carol was right-caring for people didn't make you weak. It gave off a fierce fire that burned in the gut, a goddamn stubborn assed drive and determination that made him want to stay, made him want to do anything that he could to protect those that he actually gave two fucking shits about. Yeah, he'd always cared for his brother, even if he'd been too fucked in his mental state to do much about it. But now shit was a whole lot different, he was starting to believe in himself, that he wasn't such the cowardly bastard he'd always thought he was.

Merle shifted on the bunk, the weight of the woman sleeping drowsily on his chest pinning him slightly and he sighed as he buried his nose into her hair. His suspicions piqued again as he thought he could smell the faint scent of gasoline in her hair, on her skin, the scent of whatever girly shit she'd used to shower herself unable to mask the underlying pungent aroma.

She'd told him it was nothing more than the oil from the lamp in the cell, and he'd watched her carefully as she had avoided his gaze, as she carefully avoided his questions.

Laying on the bunk he tried to tell himself that it was nothing, but she seemed so uneasy, almost as if she was scared. She was trying to hide something and she was good at it too-and if he didn't know her as well as he damn well did, he might have been fooled. But he wasn't. He just didn't want to acknowledge that something was so wrong that it had her rattled. She was one of the most cool nerved calm assed people that he'd ever known, and if she was acting like this...skittish and unnerved-

He closed his eyes, not wanting to think anymore on it. He'd wait til the morning and he would get to the bottom of whatever shit had gone down. Maybe it was something Rick had done. Merle wouldn't be surprised by that. That jackass had gone done plenty bad decisions and shitty choices at the cost of others. Why the fuck would this flu outbreak be any different.

The weight from his chest was removed quickly, the bed at his side dipping as much as the thin mattress and fucking annoying springs would allow. Carol sat up, staring across to the doorway in the dark, and he snapped open his eyes in irritation.

"Did you hear that?" she asked softly.

"Didn't hear a damn thing. Go to sleep."

"Merle, I heard someone coughing-"

"So fuckin' what?" he grumbled. "Ain't nothing ya can do 'bout it now, so shut up an' get back to sleep."

She didn't answer and she didn't lay back down, so he sat up wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. She sat stiffly against him, her back to his chest, her hair catching in the beard covering his chin.

"You need to sleep darlin'," he murmured softly at her ear. "Fuck knows we both got a lot to do in the mornin'. I gotta avoid ole man Hershel...and hell, Daryl too. Ain't wantin' them both tripping on my ass."

"It isn't funny Merle."

"Weren't sayin' it was," he smiled. "But we both know they ain't gonna be so happy to see me in here."

"And who's fault is-" she paused, her head twisting to the side. "You didn't hear that?"

Merle narrowed his eyes in the dark, listening. He could make out the faint rasp of a muffled cough echoing in the distance of the prison wing. "Yeah...I heard it," he admitted. "I told ya, ain't nothin' to be done, not until the mornin-"

"I didn't do enough," she said suddenly and quietly, bitterness tinging her voice. "It's too late."

"The hell ya talking 'bout, mouse?" he questioned, suspicion making the blood start to pulse thickly in his veins. "Ya got summat you're wanting to tell me, huh?"

"Nothing," she answered. "It's nothing. You're right, we should go back to sleep."

She pushed against him and he lay back down, his arm slipping around her as he held her close to him. She curled her hand on his chest, her head tucking under his chin, and as he closed his eyes, he wondered at the fact that he suddenly felt afraid.

…

Carol had gone by the time he woke up, and he stretched the kinks out of his body, easing himself off the mattress and staring down at his mud grimed boots. They'd both slept with their clothes on-the unusual and strange surroundings making it a necessity for them both to be prepared, and if any shit had gone down in the night-fumbling and trying to tug clothing on would cost them valuable time. He grabbed at the sheath at his waist and tugged the bayonet out, grasping it awkwardly as he fastened it to his prosthetic limb.

Merle longed for a cigarette but the annoying fucking truth was that he'd run out the day before. He hadn't see Daryl with a smoke either, so he knew there was no point in raiding them from off his brother. He pushed himself sourly off the bed, not even casting a second glance back as he paced irritably across the cell wing, stopping when he saw Hershel and Sasha.

"I was just saying to Sasha," Hershel nodded at him in quick greeting, before turning his eyes back to the woman at his side. "There's been a few more outbreaks in the night. This damn flu strain, it's quick."

"Fuck," Merle rasped as he scowled at them. He scuffed his boot on the ground, "Ya seen my brother? Is he okay?"

"Daryl's fine-he's out at the fence lines clearing the walker bodies with Bob. Burning them," Sasha replied.

Merle huffed, the irony smacking him. "None of ya asses would let me do that yesterday."

"We don't burn our own people, we bury them," Sasha said quickly.

"Whatever," he shrugged, glancing at the old man and dismissing her. Hershel was staring at him pointedly, and Merle realized his mistake. "Huh, now don't ya go an' give me grief ole man. I'm here an' there ain't nothin' any of you can do 'bout it, so don't bother wasting yer breath. I ain't listening."

"Stubborn," Hershel murmured, sighing. "Well, as you are here, you could go and help your brother. We need all the extra hands we can get-"

"I only got the one," Merle rasped, raising an eyebrow. "Ya sure that gonna be enough, huh?" He took some small degree of satisfaction at the embarrassment evident on their faces. "Now, any of y'all gonna tell me if you've seen Carol any damn where?"

"She's been helping to move some of the infected into A-block." Hershel paused for a moment, watching him carefully. "Lizzie Samuel's...she's sick. Carol's with her now."

"Christ," Merle spat, rubbing at his beard. She wouldn't take this well, and he worried about her. He wanted to go and see, offer what comfort he could, even if she was still pissed with him. He'd ignore that fact, he usually did.

"If you're going out there with Daryl, you need to wear this," Hershel said, breaking into his thoughts, and Merle glanced down at the bandana in the old mans hand. "Just a precaution."

"Yeah, I hear ya Hershel," he said, freezing as Sasha took the bandana and stepped closer towards him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

She glanced down at his prosthetic arm and shook her head as she reached up to him, pacing back warily as Merle snatched the bandana from off her. "You ain't got to do that," he snapped angrily. "Don't ya touch me. I ain't fuckin' useless. "

"No, you're not," Sasha replied.

Merle glared at her as he shoved himself abruptly away from them, striding down the corridor. The whole bunch of them were making him feel like a goddamn pussy.

"When you see Bob," Sasha called out, "Tell him I'll be down later with some water. Someone's gotta look out for that idiot man."

Merle thought he could hear the smile in her voice and it surprised the hell out of him. He'd have never pictured the ice princess liking someone like Bob.

…

They'd been hard at it for a few hours, Daryl driving the truck as Bob and himself stacked the dead biters onto the low bed trailer, then transporting them to the large glowing bonfire set some distance outside of the chain links. One of them would take alternate watch as the others pulled the biters and man handled them into the flames, the fire greedily sizzling as rancid body fats and flesh burned greasily and thickly, spewing up fumes of dark acrid smoke.

Merle was thankful for the bandana wrapped tightly around his mouth and nose, but even so he could still smell the rank scorched scent as it burned at his nostrils. He'd since learnt to work in silence- he'd opened his mouth once too often and as a reward he'd had a lungful of charred biter flesh. He found that he didn't think he'd be eating anytime soon. Not with that fucking taste still etched into the back of his throat.

He cocked an eyebrow humorously at Bob's sudden yelp of disgust and he glanced towards Daryl, seeing the same expression on his brothers face. Bob had tugged so hard at one of the biters on the trailer that he'd pulled its leg off, and Merle found the sight too damn funny. Bob stood at a loss what to do, a semi rotten leg gripped in his gloved hand by its ankle.

"Ya want us to leave the two of ya alone?" he called out, his voice muffled behind the fabric.

Bob's eyes widened as he carried the leg over to the bonfire, tossing it into the flames. "You really think that's funny. It isn't," Bob said sourly. "It's pretty disgusting is what it is."

Daryl came over and prodded him in the back. "It's gotta be done, man."

"It's necessary, yeah I see that," Bob said, glancing up quickly. "Now...now that's a sight for sore eyes."

Merle followed his gaze, snorting softly as Sasha appeared at the chain links, bottles of water clutched to her chest.

"Ain't got much more left ta move," Daryl said at his side, and Merle twisted his gaze beyond them, staring back up at the fencing at the dozen or so biter bodies left strewn in the long grass. "'Nother one...maybe two trips, don't ya reckon?"

"Jus' want this shit done," Merle grunted. "Fuckin' stinks worse than you, little brother."

"Asshole," Daryl said as he pushed past him, taking the bottles off Sasha as she squeezed through the gap in the metal links. She threaded the red wire back through the fencing, securing it. "Thanks," he said, offering bottles to Merle and Bob.

Merle tugged the bandana from off his face as he stepped further away from the fire, and he gulped down the cool clear liquid, sighing as it soothed the burn in his throat. Maybe another hour and they'd be done with this shit, and as much as he was liking being out in the open and away from the confines of the prison, he found himself longing to be back. They all stunk. He wasn't so sure that even a long damn shower wasn't going to clean the stench off them anytime soon.

Daryl had swigged down half of his water and the rest he'd tipped over his head, and Merle smiled at the sight of his little brother, with his dark overgrown hair hanging wetly and limply across his face, obscuring his eyes.

"What ya looking at?" Daryl frowned as he raked his fingers through his fringe, pushing it back from off his face.

"Ya look like a drowned pup," he remarked quietly. "Remember the time we found that dog, Daryl? Pissy little fuckin' runt. Didn't think it'd make it through the night."

"It nearly didn't," Daryl reminded him. "The ole man-"

Merle shrugged. "The ole man got his way in the end, don't ya remember? Ya tried to get the damn mutt drunk."

Daryl glanced quickly away from him, water dripping from the ends of his hair. "Merle, I don't want-"

"I know brother," Merle said abruptly. "I don't want to either, but...ya know I got the marks from that, huh? The ole man made sure it was a lesson I'd never forget."

"I got 'em too," Daryl said softly. "You ain't the only one."

Merle frowned and stared at the ground, the bottle of water dangling loosely in his hand. "I carried 'em marks long before you came along. Don't ya ever forget that, Daryl."

"It gets better Merle. Ya don't think it ever fucking does, but yeah brother. It does. In the end."

Merle looked at him surprise, saw the way that his brother was staring softly at him. "Aw hell, get out of here, man," he grunted, pushing at Daryl, nudging him so he stumbled back a step. "Ya lil pansy."

Daryl smirked, then looked away quickly as Rick appeared at the fence line.

"The hell is wrong with officer fuckwit?" Merle asked, staring narrowly at the worried expression pasted on Ricks face.

"Daryl, I need you to come with me," Rick said quickly, his fingers curling into the chain links, the fencing shifting as he leaned his weight to it. "We have a situation. I need your backup. Merle, you come too."

"A'right," Daryl said, throwing his empty bottle into the flames. "Bob, are ya good with this?"

Stookey nodded quickly, "As long as I get Sasha to keep me company then yeah, I'm perfectly fine with this."

"I'll stay and help," she answered, looking across to Rick. "You sure you don't need me-"

"No," Rick shook his head as he uncurled his fingers from the metal links, turning his back to them and striding back up towards the dirt track that led to the prison.

Daryl swiftly unfastened the wire and stepped through the gap, securing it after his brother. "You wanna tell us what the problem is Rick?" he called out.

"Tyreese. He's found something. You need to see this, both of you," Rick said curtly, and Merle glanced quickly at Daryl, his brothers eyes fixed warningly on his. They followed after the sheriff, Merle wondering what the fuck had gone on now.

...