A/N: Hi! I just wanted to say a quick hi and hello to everyone that's stuck around to keep reading until this point! I have loads planned for this story later down the line, so I hope to keep it alive and well until then. Thank you for all your support and comments so far, I've only just discovered how to respond to them, so I'll get better at doing that, sorry! Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this chapter and all those to come! -SIANNAIS

Chapter 51 - Icarus

Now, there was nothing.

The prison had fallen. Their home, destroyed. Reduced to smoldering rubble and strangled metal. It was gone and now they had nothing.

Not even each other.

—

The Prison Ruins

Merle hadn't planned on getting trapped inside. He hadn't planned on going back into the prison at all. But his newfound sense of right and wrong led him to run after Tyrese to help him get the kids to safety. Now that the building had been blown half to hell, he was stuck inside, searching for a way out.

Walkers lumbered inside through a hole in the brick wall but the pack of them was far too dense for him to fight his way through alone. He considered waiting them out or trying to lure them away before backtracking but there was no telling what awaited him further into the prison catacombs. If he wanted to escape, he'd need to be patient or incredibly stealthy. Neither of those things was he good at.

From the noise outside, or lack thereof, it sounded like the fighting had stopped. Merle was left unsettled by the quiet. If there were anyone left standing, they had to be regrouping for entry. If The Governor was still alive, he'd be irrational enough to try reclaim the prison today and Merle had no intention of sticking around for a reunion.

Lurking in the shadows, he waited and watched the walkers ambling through the rubble. If he timed it right, maybe he'd only need to fight off a few, the rest he could just slip by. It was a big if and one he wasn't confident about at that but he'd sooner die than face The Governor again. He counted down slowly in his head, ten, nine… don't pussy out… eight, seven… nut up and go already… six, five-

Merle's train of thought was violently derailed by a guttural shout and the sudden appearance of someone dressed head to toe in black, prison riot gear. They came screaming into the room and charged straight into the flood of walkers blocking the exit. Stunned, Merle gawked at the new arrivals' kamikaze mission and then kicked himself into gear.

He bolted towards the exit, to the alerted dead and the madman in black, and gripped the back of his vest as best he could. He shoved hard and used him to plow through the wall of walkers until they both staggered out of the darkness and into the dwindling sunlight. They slashed and hacked at the dead until they were able to lose them. It was then that the madman tore his helmet free from his head and reared at Merle.

"What the hell?!" Glenn yelled at him and Merle had a sneaking suspicion that what he was starting to feel was guilt.

"Hey, I didn't know it was you, okay?" Merle shrugged indifferently, "Give me a break."

"You could've gotten me killed!"

"You're armored up the wazoo, quit yer' whinin'."

Glenn glowered at him menacingly but Merle only found it amusing the way that the tips of his ears started to turn red with anger. It was an honest mistake - not to say that he'd have behaved any differently had he known. But he would've second guessed it for sure. Maybe…

"What the hell are you still doing here, anyway?" Glenn hissed, scouring what was left of their home for any sign of his wife. "I figured you would've taken off the first chance you got."

"Well, ya' figured wrong didn't ya'." Merle sneered at him. "I got left behind, same as you. Bit of a sting from the missus, don't ya' think?"

"Don't talk about her."

"Just sayin'... Gotta hurt to know you weren't worth stickin' 'round for."

Glenn swung and cracked Merle across the face with his fist - and boy, did it feel good. Merle staggered as his hands came to his nose. His eyes stung and watered and he felt something damp below one nostril. Blood streaked his hand as he pulled away and he laughed.

"Nice one." He chuckled and pressed closed the nostril that wasn't bleeding with a finger and exhaled hardly. Blood splattered the concrete and Glenn grimaced in disgust, no longer feeling happy about making Merle bleed.

"Like it or not, it's just you and me now, pint-sized."

Glenn thought he'd much rather go it alone. The last thing he needed was Merle's constant ridicule and pessimism. Yet, he could do with a second pair of eyes, ears and hands (albeit, a generous attribution).

"You try to kill me and we're going to have a serious problem. Understand?" Warned Glenn, his tone never wavering.

"Now why would I try to do something like that?" Merle replied, scoffing at his dramatics.

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Look, short-round–"

"My name is Glenn." He hissed and Merle raised his arms in defense.

"Glenn." He drawled, "I ain't gonna kill you."

"How can I trust you after everything you've done?"

"Prison's done me good this time. I've been reformed." Merle raised his arms like he was being crucified, "Man, if my parole officer could see me now."

Glenn scowled at him dubiously, inclined towards disbelief. Yet even he couldn't deny that Merle had undergone massive change - going from the racist bigot he'd met at the onset of the outbreak to… whatever he was now. Still an asshole, that was for sure but even Glenn could admit that Merle had become a dedicated member of their group. He'd just caught him off guard was all and in the heat of the moment, he'd judged him harshly. He still didn't trust him with his life but he at least felt confident he wouldn't have to worry about Merle killing him in his sleep.

"We need to leave," Glenn commented, "I have to find Maggie."

—

The plan was to regroup along the train tracks where they'd first discovered the prison. It was their just-in-case evacuation procedure. Everyone knew where to go, even if they weren't from the original group. If they were ever attacked and couldn't return home, that was where they would go to regroup.

Expect Tess wasn't heading that way.

She followed an uncharted path through the forest, her body aching with every slow step, until she reached a gravel road. All she had on her now was her bow and knife. The clip in her handgun was empty and it rested uselessly in its holster. She'd avoided using her bow as of yet - her arms were far too weak and in pain for her to be able to manage the weight of the draw. Her bloody knife was clenched tightly in her fist as she staggered down the road, eyeing the crossroads in front of her.

At the fork, she turned left where cabins started to appear. One after the other, they cropped up like arrows pointing her towards her destination. This wasn't the plan, she knew that but if she was going to find Daryl anywhere, something told her it would be here. She saw the lake and the long-forgotten boats, felt the same hope from recognition of something that was just theirs and longed for her instincts to be right.

The cabin was the same as they'd left it. Door shut but not locked. Windows ajar because it got stuffy and neither of them appreciated the stale air. Curtains pulled closed and fluttering in the gentle breeze - maintaining the privacy that they so desperately craved. It was just how they liked it.

Yet, when she arrived, she was alone.

—

Daryl couldn't help but think he was making a mistake.

This was all part of the plan, sure, but it didn't feel right. He was going the wrong way. They were going the wrong way.

He watched Beth storm ahead of him and scowled to himself, wishing he was callous enough to walk away from her, leaving her to fend for herself. But that wasn't him anymore. Despite himself, he couldn't walk away.

"Daryl, where are you going?" Beth had protested when he had started to walk in the opposite direction of the train tracks.

"I ain't gon' find her there." He told her and needn't specify who, for Beth to know.

"This is the plan, you gotta stick to the plan!"

"Screw the plan." He snapped and turned away from her again.

Beth stood her ground and clenched her fists at her sides. She was tired, scared and upset and she hadn't the patience for Daryl's diversion. She'd just lost her father, she wasn't going to let her sister go too.

"Daryl, stop!"

"Why?!"

"We decided- we all decided where to go."

"You think any of that matters now?" Daryl scoffed derisively.

"Why doesn't it?"

"Ain't nobody there waitin' for yer'. You think Maggie ain't dead? You're naive but you ain't stupid."

"She's not dead!"

"Your father is though, ain't he?! You ain't gonna find him there." He sneered despite the immediate regret he felt.

Beth's lower lip trembled as she fought back the urge to cry. She'd cried enough. No amount of tears were going to bring her dad back, nor help her to find the only people she had left. She held firm and glowered at Daryl who eventually withered under her gaze and bowed his head in shame.

"I'm going." She asserted, "You do whatever you want, Daryl but I'm going, even if it means alone."

Beth abruptly turned on her heel and began to march away. Daryl looked over his shoulder, towards the woods and the unmarked path ahead of him, and hesitated. Something told him he was right to want to go that way. To stray from the plan and forge ahead on his own - he'd find Tess there at the end, he felt it in his gut. Yet, the better man he'd become held him back.

He couldn't let Beth go out on her own. His conscience wouldn't allow it. Whatever instinct he had, he would have to ignore. He'd have to trust that she was right and they'd have their reunions at the tracks.

As he trailed behind Beth, already angry with himself for his decision, he recalled Tess' final words - over and over until the sounds in his head became foreign and he was driven mad by his lack of understanding.

—

He wasn't here. Daryl hadn't come to the lake like she'd thought. The cabin was empty, with no sign that anyone had come and gone. Doubt started to creep in - had she made the wrong call? Should she have gone to the train tracks like they'd all planned? Had everyone survived?

Fear flooded in then - had anyone survived? Was Daryl still alive? Was there even a chance that he'd walk through the door? That she'd see him again? Was she all alone now?

Anxiety weighed heavily in her chest. Crushing her. Making it difficult to breathe. Maybe they were all dead… Daryl, Merle, Carl, Rick, Glenn, Maggie… all of them. Everyone.

No. No, she refused to believe that. If anyone was going to survive, it was going to be them. After all they'd been through, they weren't going to go easy. The Governor wouldn't be the end of them.

Tess felt her leg start to waver beneath her and the sudden instability drove her to action. She was lucky to still be standing and at this rate, it wouldn't be for much longer if she didn't do something about it. Hobbling to the bathroom, she recalled their discovery of the rainwater tank on the property that serviced the plumbing. What a joy it had been to make use of the shower and a working toilet.

Turning on the shower, Tess didn't bother to undress or stop to check the temperature of the water (not that it would heat up anyway). She stepped under the stream and slid down the shower wall, closing her eyes as it chilled her bones and all the blood and grime washed away.

The cold helped to ease the throbbing pain in her arms and she gently wiped them clean to get a good look of the damage. Dark smattering bruises bloomed on her forearms and sizable welts were raised amongst them. Still, neither of them felt broken and she determined nothing could be done for them apart from time.

Gathering her strength, she shimmied out of her jeans, the fabric tugging at the bandage around her thigh as she struggled to get them off. She grit her teeth and threw her head back into the wall and the flow of water. Her wound was still raw and bleeding slowly and fresh blood circled the drain before disappearing beneath her.

The staples that Merle had used to patch her up had been removed and replaced with proper stitches; courtesy of Hershel. The thought of him reigniting the heartache from his loss. The shower helped to mask whatever tears Tess was able to muster and she brushed a trembling hand over the broken stitches to wash the wound.

There was never time for mourning but Hershel's death couldn't be in vain. They had to regroup. Rebuild. He had strived so hard to keep them all afloat and they couldn't let it be for nothing. Tess had to get up off this floor. She had to move on from here and find her people. She'd made a mistake in coming here and she tried not to dwell on all the terrible reasons why Daryl mightn't have shown.

—

Glenn was surprisingly at ease with Merle's presence. Perhaps it was because he was keeping his mouth shut or maybe it had something to do with the woman that was trailing along behind them - a member of the Governor's militia that had refused to fight and hidden when things had gotten out of hand. Her name, he came to learn, was Tara and while she seemed friendly and harmless enough, Glenn was still cautious about her joining them. Rightfully so, he deemed, she'd come to kill them, whether she'd pulled the trigger or not it didn't matter.

Merle had wanted to leave her behind when they found her cowering in the bushes at the prison. Glenn had heavily considered it too but couldn't bring himself to abandon her there. That would surely condemn her to death and he wasn't ruthless enough to do that. So, he'd urged her to come with them and after an uncomfortable moment of guilt and remorse, she'd agreed.

Now here they were, three unlikely companions making their way towards the train tracks in the hopes that they'd find their missing family. Tara kept her distance, too consumed with shame and regret to be her regular, chipper self. The sullen man with the blade for a hand also made her uneasy and she didn't want to risk upsetting him for fear of whatever wrath that might invoke. He didn't seem like the type who'd willingly help a stranger and she needn't have been paying attention to know that Glenn was the only one that was happy for her to join them.

Merle, as correctly predicted, didn't care for her company one bit. He thought she looked weak, cowardly. If there was any trouble awaiting them ahead, he had no doubts she'd be useless. He didn't tolerate uselessness well. If you ain't gonna pull yer' weight, you ain't no use to me. That had been instilled in him from a very early age. Be useful or get out of the way. Now it seemed to follow him wherever he went.

He begrudgingly accepted Glenn's company, despite his resistant loathing. Even though he really no longer blamed him for what happened back in Atlanta, he struggled with the almost autopilot-ness of his emotions. It was what he knew and easily fell into - it took so much more effort for him to consider the fact that he no longer hated the man alongside him. Unwittingly, he rubbed the end of his arm where the blade was attached as he pondered what it would be like to maybe not be such an asshole all the time. Terribly boring, he decided.

"It wasn't personal." Glenn announced suddenly and Merle looked over at him, confused.

He saw him looking down at his hand and gathered his meaning. Merle scoffed,

"Oh, it was personal alright."

Glenn's gaze cautiously drew upwards to meet his own and he looked like he regretted ever opening his mouth. Merle sighed to himself - he was tired and really didn't have the desire to get into an argument right now.

"But I had it comin'." He acquiesced, finally admitting that he'd been deserving of their poor treatment. "Your lady sure as shit didn't though. Neither did you."

Glenn did a sharp double-take and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"Are you apologizing?"

"I's sayin' that I was wrong. Don't go thinkin' you're gonna get an apology outta me."

"Why? Is that some stupid code of yours or something? Or would you spontaneously combust if you did?"

"It ain't no code." Merle rolled his eyes, "I just ain't gonna feel sorry for somethin' I thought was right. I can admit when I'm wrong though."

Merle bit his tongue, fighting back the urge to follow his admission up with an insult or snippy one-liner. Being courteous felt wrong - very wrong.

"You've changed." Muttered Glenn as he reflected upon the man that walked beside him now.

Merle groaned, displeased;

"Don't start some monologue about being a better me or I'll stick this where the sun don't shine." He raised his bladed arm threateningly and Glenn stepped further away.

"Okay, you haven't changed that much. What I will say though is, as annoying as you still are, the Merle Dixon I know now, wouldn't have been left cuffed to a roof."

Glenn didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to make amends but now felt like as good a time as any. Merle didn't know what to say. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this but he wasn't about to contradict him. It felt nice to be recognized for something good for once in his life.

"Say you love me, Short-Round it's okay, I won't tell the missus."

—

After locating some fishing twine and hooks still wrapped in their plastic, Tess hastily resewed her leg wound. Struggling to manage the makeshift needle while her hands trembled from the pain, she'd have to suffice with the inferiority of her work. It was janky and misshapen but it would do.

She pulled clothes from the closet that were too large for her and redressed, repeatedly pushing up the sleeves of her shirt until she got annoyed and cut them shorter. Tess regathered her belongings - bow, gun, knife, and wet boots and hobbled over to the front door. Opening it, she looked out to see the last of the daylight disappearing in the trees and she stared into the dark with trepidation.

Traveling at night would be risky, especially on her own and especially when not at full strength. She needed rest and could do without walking in soggy boots. Reluctantly, yet knowing it was the best thing for her, she closed the door again; leaving it unlocked just in case. She slowly walked back into the den and lit a fire, placing her boots in front to dry, she huddled nearby for warmth.

Tess felt like she was back on the floor of the hospital cafeteria. Alone, afraid, hopeless and mournful; completely choking on her anguish all over again. Her stomach was twisted into knots thinking about what had come of her friends. What had come of Daryl… Of any of them, he would be the one to make it out, she had to believe that. Except he had stayed at the prison as long as she had, if not longer, and she never had the opportunity to witness him leaving. Was he alone? Was he hurt? Should she be braving the darkness in an effort to find him?

She felt incapable of moving. Completely debilitated by the pain across her body and the ache in her chest. The fog that clouded her mind kept her shrouded in despair and looking for a light in the darkness was like searching for air at the bottom of the ocean. This was the beginning of the spiral downward and after working so hard to build her way up the first time, she couldn't let herself plummet again.

She had to be stronger than that. She told herself he was safe and uninjured and she'd find him in the morning once she made it to the meeting place. She never should have come here, it wasn't part of the plan and they'd never even discussed it in the first place. Tess just figured, well, she didn't know what she figured… When she thought of Daryl, she thought of this place and she had hoped, maybe, so did he.

As the hour grew late and the fire started to dwindle, Tess started to accept that no one was coming. Daryl wasn't going to be walking in and she was going to be spending the night alone. Reluctantly, she locked the cabin door, stoked the fire and hunkered down on the sofa for the long night.

Come morning, she'd be gone and the cabin would remain empty for good.

With her new backpack and supplies, dry boots and clear head, Tess set off at first light.