This chapter was kind of difficult to write, just trying to stay real to the characters was so hard. And don't even get me started on this whole two book thing- it's killing my flow.

You are so worthy of everything
I have to give
But I burn with feeble offerings
Nothing to sustain
Fan against the flame
Oh, what I've made

So take all of me
Please take all of me

It's like I'm running away from me
It's like I've taken the puzzle in me
And left it scrambled for all to see

It's like I'm fighting behind these walls
And hiding through metaphors
This is real, these are flaws

So take all of me
Please take all of me

Unworthy by Vancouver sleep clinic

Chapter 23 - Worthy

"Let's use neoprene foam and leather," you suggest to Merle as you examine the inner structure of his prosthetic arm. You are both perched on high stools, facing a wooden table workstation in the utility closet of the prison.

Merle looks at you sideways and asks, "And where in the hell are we gonna get that from?" You have been working with him for the past few days, trying to improve his prosthetic arm as you promised.

"Well, I'm not an engineer, but that stuff is used in car's interior, right?" you reply. Like Daryl, Merle is skilled with his hands, having built his prosthetic arm entirely on his own. "So if we find the right car, we can get both the foam and the leather from the same place."

Merle hums in thought, scratching his chin. "I think I might know a place."

It has been three weeks since you were shot, and your recovery has been slow. You were not allowed to do much besides rest, but a lot happened during this time while you lay on your bone-dry mattress in your prison cell. It has been a time of reflection for you.

During the early days of your recovery, Rick approached you to discuss the future of the Prison. The goal is to expand; the more people they have, the higher the chance of survival. This idea led to the decision not to have a sole leader but to form a council to run things, with all decisions being voted on instead of made by one person. He ended the conversation by asking you to join the council, but you respectfully declined. There was no point since winter is here, and you know you will be leaving soon.

You know that expanding the group is the best route for them. By growing the size of the group, Rick can expand the size of the prison and slowly take it over block by block. Although you don't agree with the method they are taking, it's now up to a collective decision.

There are three questions in the vetting process, and if the person they encounter answers them correctly, then they are permitted to join the group. The questions are: How many walkers have you killed? How many people have you killed? Why?

In your opinion, this is not enough. You would have a tougher vetting system, even a probationary period, but you are no longer the leader, and it's not up to you. After all, you only wanted to assist Rick during the crisis with the Governor, who has been missing in action since the incident.

The missing Governor gave Daryl the best excuse to run from you.

You know he's hurting and that's why he doesn't want to face you. All you want to do is chase after him and clear the air, but it feels like that's all you do nowadays. Since the moment he came back into your life, it has felt like you've been running after him nonstop. You know that's how he operates - processing his thoughts through his self-doubts. You also know part of him really doesn't believe that he's worthy of romantic love, so he shuts himself off from it. You've seen him do it in the past, constantly feeling like he must overcompensate or has nothing to offer you.

Lately, you barely see him as he's constantly out manhunting with Michonne. They're gone for days on end, only returning to refuel on food and gas if necessary. They scavenge most of the supplies and stiffening gas as they go for the most part. You don't know how to salvage this situation if you can't get him to sit down. But it seems that even with him gone, he still has his eyes on you because the older Dixon is constantly breathing down your neck.

Merle seems to be doing well. With the Governor gone, Rick has taken Woodbury's citizens as part of the group, who in turn are familiar with Merle as the lieutenant of their previous leader. He had taken your advice to heart, because with all the additional mouths to feed, Merle has stepped up, going hunting or raiding all the supplies from Woodbury's pantries. Since he knows the ins and outs of his old home, he has taken a small team to clean out each house one by one.

It is during one of these cleanups that he brings you a chess set, previously used by the Governor. At night, he shows up to your cell with the excuse of keeping you company, and you would play chess. He isn't very good at it, but he says he learned it while in penitentiary. So, you decide to teach him while he chats your ears off - it's better than having nothing to do.

Another person who has been keeping his distance is Charles. You know he's hurting too, and no matter how hard he tries to hide it, it's obvious from the way he looks at you. You want to reach out and let him know how much you care for his friendship, but the logical part of you is saying to let things be and let him process your rejection at his own pace. You understand why he might need space - you would too if you were in his place. It must be hard to be rejected by someone you love and be around that same person day in and day out. You can give him all the space he needs.

Of course, he checks on you every day, but for the most part, he's with Rick, helping him develop his farmland, digging and seeding the ground so it can be harvested for spring and summer. It seems like this kind of manual labor is helping him - a type of therapy, you suspect.

Jamie, on the other hand, is doing exceptionally well. He works with Glenn, Maggie, and Sasha to help find more people for the community. They all seem to get along well, probably because they're all close in age. You're happy to hear his joyful voice ringing through the prison whenever he's around.

As winter sets in and the days grow shorter, time seems to blur together.

As you sit in your cramped quarters, your mind is heavy with dark thoughts. Merle's offer to join him on a supply run seems like a welcome distraction. Lately, you have been feeling restless, and the opportunity to get out and do something feels like a gift.

As you settle into the passenger seat of Merle's truck, he interrupts your thoughts by holding out a bag of cashews. "You want some?" He asks, his prosthetic arm rests on the wheel. You nod, taking a handful of the stale nuts and munching on them as you watch him drive. Daryl's words, being there for Merle, echo in the back of your mind, and you can't help but feel a pang of sadness.

"You've been doing well," you say suddenly, breaking the silence between you. "The hunting, the supply runs. You're really stepping up." You know he could use some encouragement; God knows if he ever gotten one in his life. You know he is trying, especially with you. Even though you haven't forgiven him, you want him to succeed.

Merle looks at you sideways, his expression unreadable. You can tell he is surprised by your words, but you mean them. Despite everything that has happened between you, you want him to succeed.

"It's a mite easier seein' as how them Woodbury folks know me already," he says, tossing a few more cashews into his mouth. "At least I ain't gotta win 'em over."

"Don't look at it as winning them over," you say, leaning back in your seat. "Look at it as getting your brother back and securing a place for both of you."

Merle gives you a wry smile, and you know he understands. He has more people who trust him now, and it is only a matter of time before he wins over the rest.

"Speakin' o' my brother…" he says suddenly, giving you a sidelong look. "I thought you had the hots for him?"

You look at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Seems like Charlie-boy's been makin' moon eyes over you?" he raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his face.

"It's not like that," you say defensively, knowing that Merle wouldn't believe you. "He's like a brother to me," but the moment those words leave your mouth, you cringe.

Merle raises an eyebrow, the teasing smirk turning into a laugh. "I don't know how y'all girls be thinkin', but that man ain't your brother."

You can't argue with that. Charles has put his life on the line for you over and over again, and you know it is disrespectful not to acknowledge his love for you. You don't have to return it, but you can't pretend to be blind to it anymore.

"I don't know what to tell you," you say, your thoughts turning to Daryl. "There are men in my life, but I only love one."

Merle shakes his head in disbelief. "I swear, I just don't understand that little brother o' mine. He ain't got a lick o' my charm when it comes to the ladies, that's for darn sure."

You smile, imagining Merle trying to charm a woman. "Oh, so you're a heartbreaker, huh?" you tease.

"Lawd have mercy," he says, grinning. "Ladies used to swoon and drop right at my feet."

"Why, did you chloroform them?" you joke, and your laughter fills the cab of the truck.

"You should count yer blessin's that it wasn't me you ran into first," he says, his voice rising in pitch. "With these purty, curly locks of mine and these baby blue eyes, you would've been smitten somethin' fierce."

Amidst your laughter, you feign the act of gagging and vomiting.

You are surprised when Merle takes you to Woodbury.

As he drives you to the entrance, you can't help but notice the fortified walls that surround the town. You have to admit, they are much more impressive than the fence around the prison. However, as you enter the town, it is eerily quiet. Not a single person, alive or dead, is in sight, and it gives you a weird sense like you just stepped into a ghost town.

Despite the empty streets, you can see the beauty of Woodbury. The tidy houses and gardens are overgrown with weeds, but you can still see the potential in the town. As you stroll through the town, Merle tells you about the Governor's dark side, how he keeps a collection of walkers to entertain the residents and train his soldiers. You can't help but think that with the right leadership, Woodbury could have been a haven for many, shielding them from the dangers of the outside world.

During your walk, you notice the town is powered by generators and solar panels. You make a mental note to remind Rick to strip its power source and bring it back to the prison. The garden in the back where the residents grow their own food is still intact, and they even have a medical bay. Well, they used to have a medical bay until Merle and the cleanup crew raided all the supplies, which now reside in your infirmary.

Merle leads you to the back of the Governor's old residence as the tour ends. There, you spot a cherry red 1972 Pontiac GTO coupe with an interior made of neoprene foam and leather. Merle informs you that the Governor had intended to restore the car to its working condition, but due to the scarcity of parts, especially with the dead on their heels, it never happened. Without hesitation, Merle slices the car seat with his knife hand and collects the sizable leather and thin foam.

As you watch him gut the car, memories of your old BMW flood your mind, and you wonder where it could have ended up. You know your father sold it after you left for college, but part of you wishes it had gone to Daryl. That car holds so many of your happiest memories.

On your way out, Merle escorts you to Woodbury's weapon room, which is now empty except for a few scraps of metal. You watch as Merle rummages around for the components needed to reconstruct his prosthetic knife, collecting bolts, wires, and springs.

The drive back to the prison is more relaxed, with the cool December air blowing through the window. You are glad to be back in the warmer climate of the South after living in New York. While gazing out of the window, something waving catches your attention.

"What the hell is that?" you ask Merle, pointing towards something red waving deep in the forest along the side road. Merle slows the car and reverses to get a closer look. Both of you squint, trying to figure out what it is.

As Merle pulls the car over to the side of the road, you can't help feeling apprehensive. You know the dangers that lurk in the woods and don't want to risk your life for nothing. But before you can voice your concerns, Merle has already jumped out of the car and pulled his handgun out of its holster.

"Merle!" you exclaim, following him out of the car and grabbing your rifle. "We don't even know what's in there. It could be a trap," you warn him as you catch up.

But Merle just laughs and urges you to follow him. "I gotchu, and you got me, don't we?" he smirks and, in typical Merle fashion, charges ahead. "Come on, sweet-cheeks, don't be a wuss."

"Don't call me that," you grumble, rolling your eyes and trying to keep up with Merle's brisk pace, feeling annoyed by his lack of caution.

As you approach the source of the disturbance, you realize it is nothing more than a tattered red tent blowing in the wind. However, your relief is short-lived as you spot a walker hanging from a nearby tree, its body swaying as it thrashes around mid-air, reaching out its arms to get to you.

"Look at this dumb fucker," Merle laughs, poking at the walker's legs. "Instead of puttin' a bullet in his own head, he let them geeks turn him into a dang chew toy, swingin' in the air like a piñata." You can't help but cringe at his callousness. The walker's leg is nothing but bone, all the meat eaten by other walkers. 'I tried, I'm sorry.' The sign that hung around its neck is a stark reminder that this was once a person, with dreams and hopes just like you.

With a heavy sigh, you turn to the tent, unzipping it to look around. There isn't much inside - empty bottles, dirty clothes, a few books, and a backpack. You squat on the ground and pull out the backpack. In the background, you can hear Merle taunting the dead as he digs around in its pockets.

"Oh shit," you exclaim, laughing as you turn to Merle, and wave a small zip lock bag that holds green chunks of buds. "Look what I found!"

"Oh, hell yeah," Merle steps towards you, reaching out for the bag. But you immediately yank it away before he can get his hand on it.

"Absolutely not," you exclaim to him, as you open the bag to smell the pungent aroma of the weed. "I think I know another Dixon who would kill for these."

Merle makes a face and reaches out for the bag, "Now, what 'bout me?" he pleads. But you step back, laughing, "I'm the one who done brung ya out here!"

"Sorry, Sweet-cheeks," you say, shaking your head. "Maybe if you're nice, your brother will share with you."

With that, you gather up the backpack and the other items you had found before heading back to the car. You hear a loud bang as Merle puts the walker out of its misery, and soon he is beside you, pleading to at least smell the weed.

As the car starts moving, you can feel Merle side-eyeing you as you flip through the book you had taken. "What do you even see in Daryl, anyhow?" He suddenly asks, his tone serious. "Girls like you have options. Why him?" From the tone of his voice, you can tell this is not just something that had crossed his mind, but something he had contemplated for a while.

You are taken aback by the question and pause for a moment before answering. "What's not to love? He's always been a bit of a lone wolf, but he's got a good heart," you say softly.

Merle snorts, clearly not impressed with your answer. "What a load of crap," he says, rolling his eyes. "You know you want him for his big cock." You gasp, looking at him, "I'm just sayin' that shit runs in the family, too."

You groan, covering your ears and making a gagging noise. "I don't want to hear about your cock, Merle," you say, trying to shut him up. But he just laughs, and you can't help but join him too.

When the laughter dies down, you turn back to his question. "But why not him?" you ask, knowing all too well the worthlessness that their father has instilled in both Daryl and Merle. "Don't you see his appeal? The smart, innocent girl and the unreachable, bad boy with a heart of gold. Everything about him draws me in. I've never given myself to anyone the way I have given myself to him."

Your mind drifts back to memories that you hold so dear. You were so good together back then. He understood you, and he was never intimidated by you, even when he doubted himself.

"Too bad for yer old man, ain't it?" Merle mutters, his face wearing a contemplative expression as if he can't quite grasp what you see in Daryl.

"That's the thing, though," you continue, feeling an inexplicable urge to confide in Merle. "My father is always talking about never blinking, but he is selective with what he sees. If he just saw Daryl, if he just gave him a chance..."

You trail off, knowing that it is pointless to torture yourself over the past. But you can't help playing with what-ifs. For a man who talks about morality and seeing outside of social constructs, your father is caught under one of its branches – classism. If only he could see what you saw.

"Now, that's just wishful thinkin'. It was never gonna happen," Merle says, snapping you out of your reverie. "Ain't no use livin' in the past."

You know he is right, but you can't help dwelling on what could have been. "That's the thing, though. I know he would have liked him if he just looked," you say, your voice laced with sadness. "Because deep down, who Daryl is… it's unshakeable. My father and Daryl would have been an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object."

You know that, if anything, your father would have appreciated that about Daryl. They are opposites in every way, with strength to match each other. Light and dark.

"The things he went through, you can understand better than anyone… The world tried to beat him, but he never bowed. And through all that darkness, he was a fucking sunshine," you say, your lips trembling as you fight back tears. "He stayed true to himself. That was one of the things I loved about him. His morals, his kindness, his selflessness… the way he loved. It was never fake because it was all or none with him. Once he let someone in, he would die for them."

Your voice breaks, and you turn your head away from Merle. But you can't stop yourself from sharing your thoughts. "My mother used to say I was too young to understand what love is, but I knew early on that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. It's always been him for me," you say, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to contain your emotions.

"Well, gawd dang it!" Merle swears, his voice filled with irritation. "What the hell is wrong with y'all? He's here, and y'all both alive! But instead of bein' glad, y'all'd rather stare at each other like it's some dang period drama." He huffs at you. "If y'all keep carryin' on with any more of this angst, I might just have to pull out my teeny-tiny violin."

Despite the tears on your face, you can't help but chuckle at Merle's words. As the prison gate comes into view, you wipe your eyes and take a deep breath. You know you have to let go of the past and move forward with your life, but the memories of Daryl and the love you once shared will always stay with you.

It had been a few weeks since Alice was shot, and Carol had started to suspect that Daryl was running away again, but she didn't know why. He had been acting distant and aloof, much like he had when he decided to move to the east side of the guard tower. Carol had hoped that Alice's injury would bring them closer, reminding them that life was short and unpredictable, especially with the dead walking among them.

However, Daryl had seemed to distance himself from everyone, using the Governor as an excuse to travel with Michonne to hunt down the former leader of Woodbury. They had been gone for days on end, only returning briefly to refuel and rest. Even when they were back, Carol rarely saw Daryl. She sometimes found evidence of his return, such as his motorcycle tire tracks, but that was it.

As always, Carol had taken on the role of caretaker. Although the circumstances were not ideal, this opportunity had brought her closer to Alice. The doctor's recovery had been slow but steady under Hershel's watchful eye.

Every day, when Carol had brought her meals and changed her wound dressing, the first thing the doctor had asked before even taking a sip of water was the whereabouts of Daryl or if he had returned safely. Carol's heart had ached as she had answered the same way, shaking her head no.

She had wanted to ask what was wrong between them, but at the same time, she had felt like she had meddled enough in their business. The day she had brought Daryl to eavesdrop on the doctor's and Merle's conversation, the shock and hurt on the doctor's face had made Carol realize that perhaps she should back off. Of course, she would always watch out for Daryl, but now she would do it from a distance.

This morning, Carol had decided to wash baby Judith's clothes, as the baby had been constantly burping or spitting up. She was in the process of setting up her rainwater when she sees Daryl exit the east gate tower, followed by his older brother. He must have returned late the previous night, as his face still looks heavy with sleep. Carol is happy to see him back safe, and before she can put down the baby clothes and approach him, a sound of laughter rings out throughout the field.

Across the yard, the doctor and the soldier, Charles, are practicing some sort of fighting maneuver. Carol was there changing the doctor's wound dressing when Alice had asked Charles to teach her how to fight, but he had initially refused, citing her bullet wound. However, it seems he has finally caved in, as every day her body is healing and moving as it should.

As Carol raises her arm to notify the doctor of Daryl's presence, something tells her to stay quiet and just observe, to learn exactly what is going on without intruding. So, she slowly brings her arm down.

Carol's eyebrows furrow as Daryl immediately tenses up at the sound of the doctor's laughter. She can see the older Dixon put his arm around Daryl's shoulder and whisper something to him, but Daryl shrugs him off in anger, huffing at his brother. Although Carol can't hear what the older Dixon is saying, it seems to make Daryl move forward.

Carol is like a fly on the wall, quietly watching as the Dixon brothers set up not too far from where she is, cleaning their hunting tools as if it is a ritual. For a moment, everything is quiet except for the sound of knives being sharpened. However, the silence is broken again by the doctor's laughter that echoes across the yard.

It is Merle who speaks first, and his words make Carol's head jerk towards the brothers. "That man is tryna fuck your girl," Merle says, pointing at Charles who is training with Alice.

"Shut the fuck up, man," Daryl hisses, his eyes shooting daggers at his brother.

"I'm just sayin'," Merle raises his hand in pretend surrender, "Well, maybe he'll let you watch as he dicks her down right here in the prison, right in front of your eyes." Carol cringes at his words, his tone mocking. It gets the reaction Merle wants from the younger Dixon.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Daryl jumps to his feet; his voice rough as he waves the knife he has been sharpening. "You've got some damn nerve sayin' stuff like that, especially after all the crap you've pulled."

"What I did?" Merle scoffs, also standing up. "Well, why don't you grow a pair and man up, darlin'? That was ages ago, and there ain't nothin' holding you back now, so go over there and confront his ass, you pussy."

Carol isn't sure what to expect, but Daryl swinging on his brother isn't one of them. His fist connects and Merle stumbles back, laughing and spitting out blood. As the two go at it, Carol steps back, unsure of what to do or if this is normal between them. For a moment, she can almost imagine what it must be like growing up in the Dixon household.

"Hey!" Carol turns her head just in time to see the doctor sprinting towards them, leaving the soldier behind. What surprises Carol isn't the angry look on the doctor's face, but the fact that she has pulled out her knife. For a moment, Carol wonders if she would actually use it.

The doctor doesn't even flinch as she inserts herself right between them. Daryl immediately backs off, but the doctor's wrath is on the older man.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alice slams her hand on Merle's chest. Carol knows the doctor hasn't heard the conversation previously, but she has gone straight for Merle.

"Fuck this, I'm outta here!" Daryl spits, snatching his crossbow off the ground where he had been cleaning it.

"Wait," the doctor says, giving Merle an angry look. "Where are you going? When did you even get back?" She chases after Daryl, but he doesn't stop. Instead, he heads to where his motorcycle is parked.

"Please wait," her voice is desperate, and something in her tone makes Daryl freeze. Carol's eyebrows furrow as she watches Daryl and Alice, unsure of what is happening. Where has everything gone wrong?

"I just need to step out and get some fresh air. I'll be back," Daryl says, his head turning slightly toward the doctor. Carol can see the doctor's body deflate like a balloon. They all watch as he gets on his bike and zooms out of the gate.

"Let him go," Merle comments, bending down to continue sharpening his knife. "He'd rather be Rick's lapdog than listen to a word I say."

The doctor turns to him; her face red with fury. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" she hisses, stepping closer to the man. "Why would you say something like that to him?" It is only then that Carol realizes the doctor believes the fight is about Merle teasing Daryl about Rick, since she is too far to hear the conversation.

"Why can't you just let him have this?" the doctor continues, looking down at the older man. "Why can't he have one healthy relationship without everything having to be about you?" Her voice is strained with emotion.

"Now hold on, I ain't said nothin' to him yet. I was just tryin' to give him a little nudge in the right direction, that's all." Merle defends himself, looking up at her in annoyance.

"He's a grown man. Let him live his own life," she sighs, rubbing her forehead as if all this conversation is giving her a headache.

Merle doesn't say anything, just huffs and looks away.

Carol watches the two and sees that there is a level of understanding there. Merle is a loose cannon, but the doctor has an uncanny ability to direct him.