A/N: Alrighty so... Um... Long time no see? Sorry about the lack of updates, but a lot of things have changed. I'm not going to promise regular updates, but now that my life has somewhat settled out, I'm going to start trying to update again. I'm also working on my OFC Walking Dead fic, and trying to jump start some of my old SoA fics as well as a few new ideas for different fics.

Merle stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment, before shaking his head. "The city? The fuck would they head to the damn city? Ain't anything left, is there?"

"Don' know, cher," Frenchie said, her voice carefully neutral. So neutral that Merle instantly grew suspicious as she carefully avoided his gaze.

"What's goin' on in that pretty red head a yers?" He demanded, reaching over, and grabbing her arm in a bruising grip, pulling her closer to him. "An' don't tell me nothin'. Ya got that damn look in yer eye."

"Cher... Merle. I ain't goin' back ta da city. Damn death trap, it is. Maybe dey don' know how bad it is, dem, but it's fuckin'bad. Don' know what de hell dey's hopin' ta find dere, but jus' gonna be deir death, it is. Ain't not'in' dere, cher. Everyt'in's gone. An' ol' Frenchie... Ain't gon' risk her life fer corpses, cher. Dere ain't not'in' dat make ol' Frenchie go back in ta dat city. Not even him, not as non corpse."

Savannah could feel her heart break as Merle swallowed heavily, tears in his eyes as he nodded, sitting back in his seat.

"I know, Frenchie. I uh... Which uh... Shit," He swore with a chuckle, swiping at his eyes. "Fuckin' dust –"

"Don', cher," She said quietly, shaking her head as she put the truck in first gear, and started the old truck moving. "We can... maybe we travel de roads 'round de city for a bit. See if we find a trail 'gain. Maybe dey only headed dat way, non? Maybe dey tryin' ta head north. Ain't no harm lookin' 'round; Ain't like we got some place ta be, huh?"

The cab was eerily silent, and Savannah felt that old familiar feeling of inadequacy as they went left at the turn off, that sheer helplessness washing over her. A feeling she'd grown all too used to when her and Merle had been together. A feeling she definitely hadn't missed these last seventeen years.

"He was all I had, Frenchie." Merle's voice was unusually soft as he spoke, unshed tears filling every word. "The one good thing I'd ever done in my life. Shit, the... that little shit-head was the only thing I ever done right, ya know? I... I shouldda been there for him. Shouldn't a went out... Shouldn't a left him. Every time I leave... Damned if that boy don't get in ta nine kinds a trouble... Like he... some sorta damn magnet for everybody's shitstorm. Like... Like everythin' bad gonna search him out just ta... beat the fuck outta him... Damn kid... always... seems like..." His voice trailed off, and when she glanced over, she could see a single tear slowly sliding down his cheek.

She didn't know what to say.

So she just didn't say anything.

Seventeen Years Earlier

"De fuck is wrong wid choo, Dixon?! I only been home t'ree fuckin' days, and dis is what I get?! Dis my fuckin' welcome home gift? Certains baise catin sur mon répondeur téléphonique?!"

Merle stayed quiet, almost impassive in the face of Vanna's rage, as she threw a pan from the stove onto the ground, her green eyes flashing hellfire and brimstone as she glared him down.

It was the same thing as usual. The same fight they had every time she was home, although this had to be some sort of record.

"Who was it, huh?! 'Kimmy', 'Rochelle', 'Cherry'?! Do choo even fuckin' know?!"

He glared at the blinking light on the answering machine, honestly a little curious himself as to which barfly had left a message. Probably Lynn, he thought idly. She was the most brazen out of the girls he slept with while Savannah was gone, the one most likely to call.

"Huh?! Well?! I don' even get to know which... which salope choo is fuckin' while ol' Frenchie ain't here?! Come on, Merle, choo salaud! Tell me!"

"Ain't sure. Have ta listen ta the message." He couldn't believe what he was saying, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Vanna's jaw dropped, and she stared, dumbfounded for a few seconds, before the most pained look he had ever seen flitted across her face, and she pursed her lips together.

"Choo... Choo don'... choo don' know," She repeated quietly with a small chuckle. "Dere really dat many o' dem, Merle? Choo really got dat many whores. Wow. Dat's... Dat's jus' great, . Dat's jus' fuckin' merveilleux."

He didn't try to stop her as she slowly headed for the stairs.

Savannah was sitting on the bed, head in her hands, when she heard the quiet opening of the door, and soft footsteps.

"Vanna?"

She looked up to see Daryl's tear-stained face, and he shifted nervously from foot to foot as he chewed on his the side of his thumbnail.

"Daryl. Come here, boug," She said quietly, and instantly, the fifteen year old climbed up next to her on the bed, laying his head on her shoulder.

"Ah, boug. Qu'est-ce que je vais faire, hmm?" She asked, hugging him close. "Ol' Frenchie... I love choo brother, boug. Love him somet'in fierce, I do. But... Can't live like dis, Daryl. Can't keep doin' dis merde. Ain't gon' live like dis."

He looked up at her, and she could feel her heart shatter at the tears she seen there, at the look on his face.

"Don't leave me, Vanna. Not you too. Yer the closest thing... Closest thing I got ta a mom. Only person ever really cared 'bout me," He sobbed, burying his head against her again. "I... I need ya, Vanna. Merle needs ya, but... But I need ya too. Please don't leave me."

Vanna sighed as she held him closer. "What a fucked up liddle family we make, hmm?"

Merle was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him, his chin resting on his hands as Savannah made her way down the stairs.

"Got an invite to MARSOC, me."

Merle looked up in shock, a look that quickly turned to anger.

"Thought you said you was done. This was gonna be the last time," He said lowly, anger and sadness warring with each other in his voice. "You said after you got back, you were gonna stay. You were gonna finish it out, and you were gonna stay. You weren't enlistin' again."

Savannah chuckled softly as she slid into the chair across from him. "Oui, mais, ol' Frenchie t'ought was s'possed to be jus' choo an' me, non? Guess ain't neidder o' us gettin' what we want today. C'est la vie, huh?"

She barely managed to keep from wincing as his coffee cup shot across the room, crashing into the wall.

"It ain't like that, Savannah! I told you –"

"Yeah, Merle," She interrupted, standing up, green eyes flashing. "Choo 'tol' me. But dat salope on de machine, choo tell her too, Merle? So who choo tellin' de truth, hmm? Or all de udder girls 'fore dis? Which o' us is gettin' de real truth?"

"You! Ya dumb bitch!" He reached out, and grabbed her arm before her open palm connected to his face. "No! I'm tired a this shit every time ya come home. Always tryin' ta protect yer damn feelin's! So yer gonna listen ta me for once."

He pushed her into the chair, as gently as he could in his anger, and began pacing around the kitchen, one hand running through his buzzed hair.

"I get that this is all part a provin' yer good enough ta play with the big boys, Vanna, but enough's a-fucking-nough! I get that yer jus' as bad-ass as Billy-Bad-Ass, but… Christ, don't it matter that I love ya? That I want ya hear with me, not… not out savin' the damn world, and provin' a point?"

"Dis ain't me provin' non point, Merle! Dis is me doin' what I love. Dis is my job, my life! But choo 'spect me ta jus'… give all dat up, my hopes, dreams, all dat, jus' 'cause choo can't go more den few months wid-out stickin' choo dick in somethin'!"

" 'Cause you weren't supposed ta make a fuckin' career outta this! We were supposed ta have a fuckin' life together!" He bellowed back as she got in his face. "Was supposed ta be you, me, and Daryl! Not me an' Daryl ten months a year, an' you for a few weeks here an' there! Fuck, Vanna, in the past two years, you ain't been home more than a month at a time!"

"Don' choo try an' put dis on me, salaud! Tol' choo back de first time, I ain't gon' stay home, pop out all choo babies, take care o' choo while choo work choo '9-5'? Dat ain't me, Merle, an' it ain't choo either. Don' act like is some big surprise! So don' try ta put dis all on me!"

"Fine! Ya know what, Savannah, ya wanna go off and save the world? Fine! Do whatever the fuck ya want. Tired a arguin' this shit with ya all the time," He growled, moving towards the living room. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No. Ain't sleepin' in the same bed choo keep fuckin' every whore in Georgia. I'll sleep on de couch."

When Merle woke up the next morning, he was surprised to see Daryl sitting in the old chair next to the dresser.

"Fuck do you want?" He muttered, rolling on to his back, and scrubbing one hand over his face.

"She's gone, Merle. Don't think she's comin' back this time," His little brother said, his voice low, and emotionless.

Merle grunted as he pushed himself up, and put his feet on the floor, leaning his elbows onto his knees. "She'll be back. She always comes back."

Daryl chuckled quietly, pushing himself to his feet. "Not this time, Merle. Ya fucked up one too many times. Shit, surprised she stuck it out this long."

Merle could only glare as his brother slid out of the room silently.

It was when he looked over at the window that he noticed it. The little table that Savannah kept her personal things on.

It was empty.