Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

Nothing was said as Rick led them through the tombs, the paltry light of the few electric bulbs flickering pathetically, casting everything in a faint yellow hue. Merle and Daryl followed quickly after him, not speaking, the silence of the tombs losing them in their own individual thoughts. Rick shoved the outer door abruptly open and they squinted in the sudden bright light, Daryl raising his hand to cover his nose at the pungent aroma that greeted them.

Tyreese stared at Rick, his eyes dark and wide. "You had to go and get them? Why?" he panted angrily. "You're a goddamn cop Rick...and all I see is you wasting time, delaying...letting whoever the hell did this get away!"

Merle looked away from Tyreese, his own eyes widening at the sight of the two blackened and still smoldering corpses laying on the grey concrete of the small enclosed courtyard. His eyes traveled across the ground, seeing the thick smeared tracks of blood. Somebody had killed these two fucks, dragged them out here and tried to burn the crap out of them.

"It's murder, is what it is!" Tyreese shouted. "They killed them and set them on fire! That's Karen...my Karen, and that...that's David. Somebody did this in cold blood. They murdered them. You've got a goddamn murderer in your prison Rick, and I ain't seeing you doing a single damn thing about it."

"We have to get the facts straight, go over the crime scene before we can start accusing anyone," Rick started to say, stopping and moving quickly to the side as Tyreese pushed himself angrily in his face.

"Is this what you do? Allow things like this to happen in your prison? Karen didn't deserve this. David didn't deserve this!" Tyreese yelled as he pushed at Rick's chest with his hands, shoving at him hard and nearly knocking him off his feet.

Daryl stepped forwards, "Hey man, cool it down, we're on the same side. This ain't gonna-"

"You people talk a lot, but you do nothing," Tyreese sneered. "She's dead and you've got a killer in your prison! I told you about this Rick. Before you went and had to drag them here. I told you...and all this damn talking and wasting precious time ain't gonna bring her back!"

"I know what you're going through," Rick said quietly. "Look, we've all lost someone. All of us. We know what you're going through, but right now, you've got to calm down." He reached across and touched at Tyreese's shoulder with his hand.

Tyreese surged against Rick again, his fists flying as Daryl quickly grabbed at Tyreese and thrust him bodily to the wall, trying to lock his arms around his-trying to stop him from lashing out any more at the sheriff.

Merle was surprised as fuck when Rick finally went and lost it. The sheriff pulled at Tyreese and as they swung and traded punches, Rick got the upper hand and knocked Tyreese heavily to his knees, raising his foot and kicking viciously at Tyreese's stomach, the force sending the big man sprawling onto his back. Rick loomed over him, sweat and blood dripping from his hair as it hung in his face, his fists lashing out as he repeatedly punched the big man in the face. Blood sprayed up, and Merle rushed forward, grabbing hold of Rick's arm and pulling it backwards, receiving a vicious quick backhand to his face that undoubtedly...Merle thought sourly, had gone and bust his fucking nose up again.

"Stop it! Just stop it," Carol cried out suddenly from the opened doorway.

They all stopped and looked at her, Merle stepping back from the two men and spitting out a gobbet of blood onto the concrete. Daryl sighed heavily, leaning down and helping Rick get to his feet.

"You need to get that looked at," Daryl said quietly, glancing at Rick's hand as he held his own out, trying to placate Tyreese.

Rick tried to push himself away from Daryl, his hair hanging damply against his temples, blood dripping down his face. He raised his hand and looked at it dully, his eyes glazed and unseeing.

"I got this," Merle said as he stepped to the front of Tyreese, pressing his hand to the big mans chest. "Like my little brother said, ya need to cool it down big guy. Rick's gonna do what the fuck he can. Ain't no point losing yer shit like this, it ain't gonna help none."

Tyreese sighed heavily, staring at Merle through one eye. His other was already starting to puff up and close, blood crusting thickly, and Merle could see the tell-tale purple bruise already starting to appear under his eye.

"Yeah," Tyreese gulped, his breath tight and thick in his chest. "Yeah, you're right." He raised his head and glared at the former sheriff, "But you...you, Rick. You find out who did this and bring them to me. Understand? You bring them to me. I don't care what you have to do. Just do it."

"Leave it, Ty," Daryl grimaced as he walked towards the door with Rick, his hand gingerly resting on the other mans arm, guiding him. "The man will do whatever the hell he can."

"I don't care. Do what you gotta do. I...I've gotta bury Karen and David. Can't leave them like this. I just can't," Tyreese gasped.

"We'll take 'em both, move them from here an' let ya bury them," Merle answered. "Jus' go an' calm yer shit down."

He watched as Tyreese shambled slowly out from the courtyard, his feet shuffling heavily as he walked through the corridor of the tombs, Merle half listening as the boot tread echoed and then faded into the distance. He looked at the bodies again, sighing. Some fuck had really done a number on these unfortunate assholes.

He'd almost forgotten that he wasn't there alone until he heard the sound of boots scuffing on the concrete, and he glanced around, staring in surprise as Carol leaned her back to the outer wall, her arms wrapped tightly about her. Her face was wan, drained of color, her eyes wide and shining vividly blue. Her gaze was fixed past him, on the bodies, and Merle felt that surge of fear and apprehension prick at his senses again.

He wondered...then dismissed the thought before it had the chance to form in his mind. It wasn't possible. She wasn't capable of shit like this.

"I should go...see how Tyreese is," she said quietly, dragging her eyes from across the floor up to his. Her gaze was quick and fleeting.

"Yeah," Merle sighed again, rubbing his hand wearily across his forehead. His nose hurt and stung like a bitch.

"Oh God, you...you're hurt," she said quickly, "I think there are some band-aids in... Merle, what happened here?"

He watched her carefully as he wiped at the blood on the bridge of his nose. "Was gonna ask ya the same damn thing. You ain't knowing nothing 'bout this?" he asked, indicating the bodies.

"Why would I?" she answered curtly, her hands dropping from her arms to clasp loosely at her sides.

He paced across the courtyard, standing just in front of her. She was trying her level best not to met his gaze. Whatever she was hiding...he was done with it-he just wanted her to tell him. He wasn't a complete stupid naive dumbass, he all to well remembered the faint smell of gasoline in her hair, on her skin. He remembered how stressed and uneasy she had been the night before. "Ya sure you ain't got nothing to tell me?" he insisted.

"There's nothing to say," she said, finally raising her head and meeting his gaze.

"You're fuckin' lying. I know what ya did. I ain't getting why ya jus' won't be honest with me."

She glanced away from him, pursing her lips into a thin tight line as she stared silently at the bodies on the ground.

"Thought we had no secrets," Merle shrugged. "Thought I knew ya, but turns out like everythin' else in my goddamn shitty excuse of a life that I'm fuckin' wrong." He knew what he was doing, he was trying to push her into answering him-this silence and placid defiance of hers was frustrating him. "You...huh, fuck it. I thought you were different, but hell...ya ain't no fuckin' different to any other bitch I've fuckin' well known. You're all full of shit an' ya lie," he said bitterly.

"I need to go," she said, ignoring him as she tried to turn away and head for the doorway, stopping and staring at him as he grabbed at her arm. "Let me go, Merle. Please."

For a moment he felt confused and he wondered if he could've gotten this all so very wrong, and if he had- he'd probably gone and fucked up any chance of anything further happening between them. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd jumped the goddamn gun with her. Now he felt he was in to deep and he had to carry on accusing her; no matter the consequences and no matter how much of a shit it was starting to make him feel.

"Why the hell did ya do it?" he asked, twisting her arm and pulling her closer so that she couldn't look away from him. "I thought ya trusted me," he said tiredly. She still wouldn't look at him and she still wouldn't answer, and Merle knew then with a sinking feeling that she had done it. "I ain't gonna ya ask again. I need to know, an' I need ya to tell me, Carol... for Christ's sake. Did ya kill 'em?" he demanded.

She bowed her head, the start of tears shimmering in her eyes. "I did it," she said so softly, that he had to strain his ears to hear her. "Yes, I did it. I killed Karen and David."

"Fuck!" Merle spat as he let go of her arm and shoved himself away. "Fuck it!" He glanced at her over his shoulder, saw the way that she was nervously watching him, then he looked away as he slammed his prosthetic to the wall. "Shit...it. Mother fuckin' shit it!"

She looked away from him, staring at the bodies, then sighed tearfully. "It...it was already starting, Merle. With the both of them. I...I did what I had to do, I didn't want it spreading. Karen...when I found her, she could hardly breathe. She was choking in her sleep. All I could think about was Judith, Carl...the girls. You and Daryl," her breath hitched in her throat. "I...I couldn't let anything happen-I couldn't take the risk. Something had to be done to try to stop it."

"Ya should've said somethin'. Any fuckin' thing. But ya didn't," Merle grated angrily. "Ya ain't gone an' thought any of this through." He had a sudden and horrible realization hit him. Tyreese was baying for blood and sheriff asshole would be like a dog with a goddamn bone. He'd find out who'd done this, and when he did..."Ya can't tell anyone 'bout this," he said quickly. "Not Rick, not even my baby brother. Ya tell no-one. I fuckin' mean it, mouse. Ya tell no-one. We keep this shit between us, ya got me?"

She raised her head slowly and looked up at him, and he suddenly felt so damned relieved to see the tears brimming thickly in her blue eyes, and as he watched, she blinked; the tears falling from her eyes and running down her cheeks to her jaw. He found then that he was in no position to judge her for what she'd done...fuck-he'd done worse back in Woodbury. A lot worse.

He felt overwhelmed, even though he couldn't totally believe nor understand the emotion flowing through him and pulling at his heart-all he knew was that he felt so damn well fucking relieved. It meant she wasn't no cold hearted killer and he was right all along. He knew her. Even though she'd had her reasons and as fucked as they were, she'd been trying to do what she thought was right thing to do.

She raised her hands to her face, trying to smother down a sob, and Merle found that he couldn't bear it any longer. He closed the distance between them, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face into the side of his throat- her tears hot and damp against his skin.

"I'm gonna help ya," he soothed, pressing his cheek to the side of her head, his lips touching at her ear. He knew suddenly what it was that he had to do. "You ain't alone in any of this. Ya got me, for what it's worth darlin'."

"No," she said, trying to push herself away. She looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks as he didn't relinquish his hold on her. "Merle, please. I did this-"

"You ain't got no say no more. Yer gonna let me help ya...do what I gotta do. Hell," he smirked tiredly, "They all think I'm an asshole anyway. They know I wanted to burn 'em corpses before...an' well...they ain't gonna believe none ya tell 'em. But me? Shit. They ain't gonna expect anything less. I can take whatever crap they wanna deal me. But you...mouse...I ain't gonna let ya fuck things up for yerself. You ain't got no say in any of this shit," he said firmly as she shook her head.

"I won't let you do that," she said tearfully. "I won't...and if you think I'm going to let that happen, you're wrong-"

"Mouse...hush it," he rasped quietly, ignoring the questioning look on her face. He could hear the faint tread of boots coming from the hallway, and he pulled her closer, trying to give her the chance to get her shit together as he watched as his brother suddenly appeared at the doorway.

"Christ. For fuck's sake you two, can't ya give it a fucking break?" Daryl grunted uncomfortably. "Acting like ya ain't nothing but a couple'a damn lovebirds. Y'all knowing this ain't exactly the time or place-"

"Ya know me all to fuckin' well little brother," Merle said quickly, glancing down as Carol swiped at her tears with the heels of her hands. He didn't want his brother thinking that he'd gone and upset her, like he'd done in the past. Daryl wouldn't understand shit with women if it was dealt to him on a silver fucking platter. And he didn't want him suspecting that any thing else was wrong either. "Since when did I ever give a fuck an' miss an opportunity for a goddamn grope, huh?" he leered, hoping that his brother in all of his naivety had missed what he was actually trying to do.

"Jesus, Merle," Daryl glowered. "Ya gonna help cover these up?" he asked, holding out thick heavy blankets in his hand.

"Yeah, yeah," Merle answered, holding Carol from view of his brother and waiting until she was composed. "Yer gonna be alright darlin'," he said softly. "Ya jus' need to think on what I told ya. Okay?"

She nodded and laid her hand on his chest, her fingers curling into his shirt and she leaned up and kissed his cheek, before standing back and away from him. She looked at him one last time, a small sad smile on her face, then she stepped away, smiling briefly at Daryl as she walked through the doorway and back into the darkened corridor.

Merle held his breath for a moment longer than he meant to, frowning when he saw the half amused expression painted on his brothers face. Irritably, he snatched one of the blankets off him, glancing once more back at the doorway, then he turned his back to it and leaned over one of the body's, covering it with the blanket the best way that he could, his awkward fumbling one handed grip and prosthetic arm not making the task easy.

"Ty's down there, digging graves," Daryl said, "Shit...he's diggin' 'em like he's summat possessed."

"Ain't surprised," Merle answered, sighing as he stepped back from the body. They'd wait until the smoldering calmed the hell down before lugging the corpses to the outer field. Let Tyreese bury and grieve over his dead.

"Whoever did this," Daryl said as he gently placed the blanket over the other body, tugging the corners of it in place. "They deserve a bolt through their sick fucking head."

Merle looked away from his brother, his resolve hardening. They wouldn't understand why she'd done what she'd done. None of them. And there was no way he'd let her be answerable to any of them. No way in hell.

…

Merle squinted in the bright sunlight and rubbed the back of his grimy hand over his forehead, wiping at the sweat that was starting to bead there. The stench of burning flesh at the fences was still acrid enough to make him want to gag despite the bandana wrapped around his nose and mouth.

Daryl had long disappeared several hours ago, the urgency of an unexpected Council meeting luring him away from the task at hand, leaving Merle alone with Tyreese, and one look at the big guys bruised and battered face was enough to make him want to spend some quality time with the burnt out biter corpses. He didn't want to face the other mans frantic hostile gaze, knowing what Carol had gone and done. He just hoped for her sake that she'd listened to him and was keeping the hell away.

The biters were still massing at the chain link, stupidly ignorant of the fate of the others, and Merle looked at them sourly as he stepped nearer, rattling the fences with a swift toe of his boot, watching as two turned their heads slowly to his direction.

"There's one here almost as good looking as you, Merle."

He glanced to his right, his mouth pulling downwards into a sneer. Andrea was looking across at him as she tugged her blade from the forehead of a biter, her blonde hair falling from the tie she'd used to tie it back, a lock hanging damply across her cheek as she raised her eyebrow at him humorously, the lower half of her face hidden behind a scarf.

"Yeah, like I ain't heard that before," he grunted, remembering a time at the biter pits with Milton and that goddamn asshole, Brownie. The fucker had said about the same damn thing to him then. He wondered for a moment, was he even still alive...had the Governor fucked with him like he'd done with everyone else? Merle huffed to himself, if that bastard Brownie was alive and if he ever tracked him down and found him-he'd make damn sure the cunt would stay put down. He'd kill him himself. An eye for a fucking eye, boot for a boot. He'd always remember and he'd never forget as long as he lived what Martinez had done to him. And those cock sucking Woodbury bastards had called him the traitor?

Merle felt his already pissy mood sour further. He was in no mood for Andrea- was in no mood for Zach and his all too goddamn peppy little spit-fuck attitude. The kid was too damn happy, despite everything that was going on around him, and Merle found himself resenting the kid for that.

He twisted his head away from them, glancing back up towards the prison, watching as Tyreese stood leaning his weight against a shovel. He sighed, nothing was simple no more, but then again-it never really ever had been.

His head snapped back at the sudden sound of a muffled cough, and he stepped back from the fences warily, wiping the blood from his bayonet against the leg of his pants. Zach was shrugging Andrea's hand from off his arm as he covered his mouth, edging away and keeping his distance from her, and as Merle watched the kid pulled down his face mask, the tell tale start of crimson tinged saliva smearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Kid-" he started, then looked at the ground in sudden weary defeat. Nobody was safe from this goddamn flu. "Ya need to go an' see Dr. S."

Zach shook his head, "No, no it's fine, I'm good-there's nothing wrong with me." He raised his hand to his mouth, his eyes watering as he tried to smother back another cough.

"Zach, listen to him. Go and see Caleb. You might be right and this might be nothing at all. But just in case, you should go and see him," Andrea said worriedly.

"I'll take him," Merle grunted, frowning as Andrea made to come across to where they stood. "Keep the hell back, Blondie. Ya ain't knowing nothin'-"

"I know this is fucking frustrating," she retorted.

"Jus' get yer ass back up that tower. We need someone that ain't sick to keep an eye out for Christ only knows what fuckin' next," Merle said irritably. "Jus' do it, an' don't ya come anywhere near us. I mean it," he spat as she stepped back away from them, sighing in frustration.

…

"Caleb has come down with it, so has Sasha, Glenn," Hershel said softly as he raised his head to look at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry, man," Merle said uncomfortably, watching the older man in concern. Hershel looked about beat and done in, leaning against the table with his head held in his hands. He seemed to have aged in hours.

There was a stack of books to Hershel's side on the table top, and Merle glanced at the thick volumes on herbology, quick quack cures, folklore and myths. He wondered just how desperate things were if the old man was pulling books from the library and looking to herbs and new age shit as an answer.

Hershel grimaced as he pulled up the dirty grey neckerchief wrapped around his neck, securing and smoothing his fingers over the fabric as he adjusted it around his nose and mouth. Merle thought with some sour humor that they must look like a bunch of pathetic joke cowhands-reminiscent of the old fucking western movies his Pa used to insist on watching when he was nothing more than a snotty nosed brat.

"I'll take Zach with me to A-block," Hershel said tiredly as he got to his feet, his eyes kind and sympathetic as he glanced at the younger man stood in the doorway. Zach clutched a wad of bloodied fabric to his mouth as he tried desperately to smother back a cough. Hershel dragged his eyes back and stared at Merle, his eyebrows knotting together in concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Ain't nothin' wrong with me, fit as a fuckin' horse," he replied, looking around the room and sighing. "Ya seen my brother? Carol?"

Hershel stepped across the library towards the younger man and paused, glancing over his shoulder, his hand resting momentarily on Zach's arm. "Daryl left with Michonne, Bob and Tyreese. There's an old Veterinary College, some fifty miles back at West Peachtree Tech. Nobody would've thought to have raided that place and the animal medicines there are the same and just as good as what we would use. Your brother has gone on a run, he left immediately- he insisted and wouldn't wait. We need those medicines, without them...I don't like to think of the outcome."

Merle nodded, that sounded like Daryl all right. Impetuous and impatient. "An' Carol? She gone with them?" he asked, watching as the old man and the kid made their way into the corridor.

"Carol?" Hershel frowned. "Didn't she say? She's gone with Rick, they left a few hours ago. Gone on a run to one of those new housing development areas. Rick said he thought he might know where there could be a few medicines, possibly enough to last until Daryl gets back with the others-"

"The hell?" Merle snapped, apprehension and fear curling suddenly in the pit of his stomach. "And ya let them fuckin' go?"

"Why would I stop them?" Hershel asked curiously.

"Never mind." His head was spinning, and he feared that Carol had gone and done something fucking stupid. Like admit what had really happened. He hoped against hope, but he couldn't deny the sinking feeling in his gut. One word sprang to his mind, and he desperately tried to ignore it, but it pricked at him urgently.

Scott.

"I gotta go," Merle said suddenly.

"Merle, I don't know what the problem is, but she will be safe with Rick. He'll look out for her."

"Yeah," he spat angrily. Good old Rick fucking Grimes. He'd look out for her all right. Probably give her the same damn treatment he gave Scott.

He pushed past them, rushing out into the corridor, stopping and staring at the old man. "If ya see my brother... if Daryl gets back before I do-tell him that I ain't been running. We all got shit to do, and hell...I gotta do this. He'll understand. But it ain't fuckin' running. Tell him I'm sorry, but I'll see him soon."

"Merle? I don't understand-" Hershel called out, but he ignored the old man, racing his way through the cell block, not stopping until he reached the now empty C-block and their cell.

He grabbed at the large backpack wedged under the bunk, feeling some small relief at the smaller bags absence. It seemed that she'd taken it with her. He pulled the straps over his shoulder, racing back through the wing, stopping at Michonne's cell, searching in hurried frustration, and then grabbing at the map that lay on her bunk. He thrust it into his pocket before heading off to the armory, taking the key and opening it up, grabbing at a rifle, boxes of shells, ramming them into the already near filled backpack.

He took one last brief look around, catching sight of the keys of the Jeep that his brother had driven when Rick in his infinite wisdom had sacrificed the damn piglets to the biters. He palmed the keys quickly and left, the outer door creaking and slamming firmly shut behind him.

…

It had been hours, fucking hours...and he was no nearer to finding either of them, and now anger, fear and desperation was starting to cloud his judgment. The longer it was taking, the more he was worrying the fuck over shit.

He glanced at the map resting on his knees as he drove. Ironically, there had been three of those fucking new development areas, and he'd wasted precious time searching and finding no sight or sign of them. There was only one last place left on the map that was within range, and as he pulled the car up, slowing down and parking, he felt a surge of relief that gave way to a quick and steady anger. He leaned down hurriedly in the seat, watching as Rick drove past in the Hyundai alone.

Part of him badly wanted to give chase, to stop Rick and ask him what the fuck he'd done exactly. Carol wasn't with him. The asshole was driving back to the prison, alone-as if nothing had fucking well happened. But Merle knew. Rick had gone and thrown her to the fucking wolves. Just like he did with everyone else that got in his way.

…

It was over another hour before he'd finally found her. She'd been driving some dirt encrusted station wagon-he'd been following slowly and keeping some distance behind, not completely sure if it was her...and now it was parked on the side of the road and she was stood outside, leaning with her back to the door, her shoulders shaking as she held her head in her hands.

He pulled up some distance away, parking underneath the heavy over hanging branches of the pine trees that lined both sides of the road, the litter of pale brown pine needles coating the tarmac thickly and densely.

He didn't want to startle her-he feared that if she saw him, she would just bolt, so he lay in wait, biding his time until he could make his move. He thought for a moment that she'd seen him-her hands dropped from her face and she moved quickly away from the car, and Merle watched in stunned disbelief as three figures stepped out from the treeline, two thickset men and a smaller, slender dark haired woman. They had weapons in their hands, pistols and rifles, and he ducked back down to the side of the Jeep, watching in frustration as Carol looked up suddenly at the figures.

Merle didn't know what the hell to do. He'd gone and wasted precious fucking time being cautious and now it was all he could do to stop himself from racing to her- but he knew that if he did, he'd probably endanger them both. He didn't know who the fuck these people were, or where the hell they'd suddenly come from. He was unprepared. He didn't know the area, their position, how many of those fuckers were hidden out there.

He crouched down further, the low sounds of muffled voices reaching down towards him. He couldn't hear what was being said as he pressed himself against the Jeep, his knees sinking into the damp muddy ground. He grasped at his colt, quickly thumbing the safety off.

He waited a few moments more, before twisting his head up and glancing in their direction, and he watched in sheer frustration as they formed a semi-circle around her and guided her back them with into the depths of the trees.

…

Grabbing his backpack off the seat of the Jeep, he thrust it quickly over his shoulder, his pistol gripped firmly in his hand as he slipped silently through the undergrowth. He was going to find her and he was determined that he'd fight to get her back, no matter what the fucking cost was.

...