Disclaimer: The characters of the Walking Dead belong to Kirkman and AMC. This writing is from pleasure only. No profit is intended.

HONEST WORDS

When she found Daryl, he was blind drunk, staggering down the middle of the road. Alone.

Michonne crouched down at the edge of the tree-line and watched him for a minute before deciding he was just inebriated, but still human. Idly, she wondered where he got the alcohol and whether there was any left in the bottle. After today, she could sure use a drink.

She didn't really know the raggedy man out in the road. She knew that Andrea had once shot him in the head and laughed about it. Andrea liked him and was impressed with his unschooled shrewdness. Considering Andrea's infatuation with that monster, Blake, Michonne hadn't let Andrea's opinion on Daryl sway her. In fact, she hadn't said more than ten words to the man. He hadn't said more than one word to her, but it was a good one; welcome. And he said it openly, like he meant it. Honest.

Michonne was all about honest. She liked to know who she was dealing with. She got satisfaction from figuring people out. After her 'ride' with Merle earlier, Michonne found herself wanting to figure the man out. As far as she could tell, Merle had told her nothing but truth in the car. It was something she never expected from Merle. Honesty.

Off to her left, a couple of dead were lumbering toward the man in the road. With a flick of her wrist, Michonne loped off the top of one head and caught the other in the throat. Damn biters were never the same height.

Another swipe and the second one's head went the rest of the way off and rolled into the bushes. Before she could look up from watching it roll, a whooshing sound blew right past her left head and thunked behind her. A sting of pain ghosted across her cheek.

Startled, Michonne looked up to the rock-steady stance of Daryl pointing an empty crossbow directly at her head. He nudged his chin to the right. Michonne whirled and caught a second silent biter with the hilt of her katana. One push in the right direction, a flash of blade and another head rolled into the bushes. With a big sigh, Michonne rolled her eyes and huffed. She just hated chasing down zombie heads. Had to be done, or else they might bite someone in the foot, but she hated it all the same.

Annoyed, Michonne looked out of the bushes at Daryl again. Her irritation increased as he started swaying drunkenly. The damn redneck could have hit her with that bolt. That pissed her off as much as Merle obviously getting himself killed. With a grunt, she stood all the way up and left the bushes.

"How the hell did you see me?" Michonne demanded as she skewered the first head. "I know I was in good cover and its nearly dark."

Daryl blinked at her a moment and then, jerkily, did a complete turn looking for more undead. His movements kinda looked like stop-motion photography. Michonne couldn't help but smile a little, releasing some of that irritation.

When he didn't see any more threats, Daryl lowered the bow and tried to reload. In his drunken state, he couldn't quite get the bolt off the rack and ended up landing on his ass. Hard. This time, Michonne laughed out loud. "Give me a minute, Robin Hood. I'll help you up."

Michonne quickly located the other two heads and dispatched them with a grunt. Then she retrieved the bolt from the one she had missed. The hit was perfectly centered in the eye. Flawless. Impressive for a drunken man. Hell, just plain impressive.

By the time Michonne walked back out on the road, Daryl was staggering down the road again, a fully loaded crossbow strung across his back. Without a word, Michonne fell into step beside him. After a minute, she swiped the bottle that hung loosely in one hand and took a swallow. It was Jack Daniels. The warm whiskey burned all the way down. It was a good burn. She took another swallow and then emptied the bottle with a last sip.

"I hope to hell you didn't drink the whole rest of that bottle," Michonne exclaimed, tossing the empty into the night. "I'd hate to have to make you puke some of that up. But I'd rather do that than let you die of alcohol poisoning."

Daryl just snorted. "Saved your ass back there. You owe me," he slurred.

"Maybe," she agreed. "Maybe I just can't face giving you mouth-to-mouth if you fall into a coma."

Daryl snorted again, but kept on walking. After another silent minute or two, he finally ventured an answer. "Didn't drink the whole bottle. Think it was Merle's. It's his brand."

Michonne just nodded. She figured as much. Back in Woodbury, it was a poorly hidden secret that Merle stashed bottles of Jack Daniels all around the town. Anyone could find one if they wanted to go on an Easter egg hunt for them. Michonne was inclined a time or two.

"You found your brother then," she asked quietly.

"Not soon enough." The response was so quiet she doubted the words. They had gone another mile or so, before Daryl spoke again.

"Found twelve fresh dead with a head shot. Figured that's how many Merle nailed before Blake found him," Daryl rasped out, going quiet again.

They were nearly back to the prison gates when Daryl stopped suddenly and looked at her with unfocused eyes. "Merle had his chest blown in. All but one finger in his last hand was bitten off."

Michonne watched as Daryl's breath hitched a bit. Waited patiently for him to finish.

"Blake left Merle to turn. Left him for me. Had to..," Daryl trailed off and lurched toward the side of the road, emptying his stomach. Michonne gave him a little privacy and watched the road. Eventually the heaving died off.

"Twenty-eight men, then," Michonne mused as Daryl stumbled back to her. She grabbed one muscled arm and steadied him for a minute. "Merle told me in the car that he had killed sixteen men for the Governor. He regretted their deaths."

"Merle never regretted nothin' in his whole life," Daryl countered, looking at the ground.

"He let me go right after he told me that," Michonne said as she studied Daryl's pallor. "Said it weighed on him."

Daryl nodded in response. "It weighs on me, too. Think I killed three getting Glen and Maggie free. Gonna haunt me until the day I die."

Michonne nodded back, suddenly uncomfortable. After shuffling for a minute, she turned and caught Daryl's eye. Stared at him hard.

"You know Merle did that for you. For the group. To give you all a chance." She studied his fading features. "Merle cared about you more than anything else in his life."

"I know," Daryl whispered and turned away.

Together, they made their way to the gates. Daryl stumbled hard and almost went down. With a sigh, Michonne levered one arm over her shoulder. For not such a big man, Daryl was really heavy.

"I'm sorry Rick almost traded you to Blake. He was wrong," Daryl rasped, slumping further against her.

"Stop talking. You smell like a distillery."

This was one subject she didn't want to explore. She knew how Blake worked. How masterfully he crafted his attacks. Mind games. Rick hadn't stood a chance. Neither had Andrea.

Rick and Carol met them at the gates. Without a word, Rick took Daryl off her hands and heaved him over one shoulder. Together, they took the semi-conscious man to the showers, cleaned him off and forced coffee down his throat. No one said a word about Daryl's scarred up body, or the occasional tear that leaked from his eyes. They just took care of him and dumped him on a cot to sleep it off. Carol sat on the floor, leaning her back against the cot keeping a close watch.

Afterwards, Rick handed Michonne her own cup of coffee while she told them what happened in the car and on the road. She left out the part where Merle admitted to killing sixteen men for the Governor. That belonged to just her and Daryl. She didn't leave out the part where Merle had done it for the group. To give them all a chance.

"Thank you for bringing him back," Carol whispered from her post by the cot.

"I was wrong," Rick told her. "I'm sorry."

Honesty. She definitely heard honesty in those words. Michonne merely nodded and settled in to help keep watch over her new friend.

Maybe this place could be her place. These people her people.

She owed that much to Merle.

AN: I'm really enjoying the developing friendship of Daryl and Michonne. They both seem like such honest souls if you peel back the layers.

Thanks for reading. Please drop me a line and let me know if you enjoyed the story. I hope to hear from you.

Surplus