{In her dreams, she was home. Home, sleeping in her childhood bedroom. Wrapped up tight in her mother's patchwork quilt of garden greens and snow whites, breathing in the scent of lavender and fresh hay carried through the open window on the warm night air. --

-- In her dreams, she was calm and safe. Safe in a place where no bad could reach her. In her dreams, her dog was scratching at the door. Except she wasn't safe. She hadn't been, not for weeks. And that wasn't a dog at the door. --

-- Slipping out of sleep, she held her breath, silently praying that the noise at the door was anything but the Dead. A bear. A cougar. Heck, she'd settle for a team of angry sheep, as long as it meant not having to start her day by sliding a blade through --

-- someone's eye. Baby blues going glacial, trembling fingers drifting to the hilt of her blade, she pulled herself up tall and gazed towards Merle Dixon, chin lifting. #Merle wouldn't cower, no way. He'd look that walkin' corpse right in the face, and crush it --

-- take 'em out before they had a chance to tear another soul apart. Like they'd done to so many. Like they'd done to her Daddy. Mouth going dry, she stole to the cabin's front door, peering cautiously through the peephole at the lone Walker outside. A guy? --

-- Maybe, if the hair was anything to go by. Nipping her lip, she stared into the monster's milky, unseeing eyes, heart sinking as a horrible thought rose to mind. Merle Dixon said their camp had been close by... Was /this/ Daryl Dixon? Oh lordy...} --

-- {whispering} Merle... {Stretching out, she thumped the bottom of his foot with the toe of her boot, gaze fixed on the door.} Merle, get up. There's... {thickly} There's somethin' you need to see. Merle Dixon

When the story first broke, I didn't believe it. To be clear, not in an 'I'm so shocked, it's so surreal, handwringing, the world's gone to shit' sort of way. I mean, I /literally/ didn't buy it. The vice president /dies/, and within /hours/, they've already lined up --

Althea. Shane Walsh Rick Grimes *giving his head a quick shake, he watched Shane Walsh and Amy Harrison bolt across the yard, the realization that Althea. was /also/ watching the duo, and therefore --

{Waiting for the sun to rise, she sat on guard, her back to the cabin wall as she watched over the sleeping Merle Dixon} {singing softly} I fall to pieces...

{dryly} Said the girl runnin' off to the prison with Dudley DoRight. How is Rick Grimes?

{singing softly} Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday @BPRP_Beastie. Happy birthday to you. {whispering} Don't worry. I'll keep Merle Dixon away from your cake.

{wide eyed} {mumbling} Ain't nobody like /that/ back home...

-- What would he make of #Merle? Looking over her shoulder Merle Dixon's sleeping form, lips twitching in a grin as he let out a sudden, window rattling snore, she slipped silently to her feet, stealing across the room to pull a blanket from the small stack --

-- on the floor. Unfurling it as slowly as she could, she lay it across #Merle's shoulders, not wanting cold to wake the man who deserved sleep more than anyone she could think of. Fingers itching with the want to touch his cheek, she studied his face, --

-- #Hershel's voice echoing in her ears. Being protective, absolutely. Telling her to be careful around the man's rough edges. But, more than anything, proud of her for looking past them. Moving back to the window, she sank back to a seat, maintaining --

-- her watch as the sun rose, determined that, whatever pain Merle Dixon had known before he'd shown up in their barn was going to end with her. First step... Tracking down Daryl Dixon.} {whispering} We're gonna find you, Daryl. --

-- And you're gonna be just /fine/. Merle Dixon Daryl Dixon