A/N: Welcome back! This is the sequel to "I Can't Face The Dark Without You", which if you click my name above...you can find in 'my stories'.
This first chapter is pretty short, but it introduces the concepts we're going to deal with for a while. I'm thinking about either mixing some aspects of the comics into the show canon, or I'm going to make up my own winter. Either way, there WILL be a winter.
It's a bit choppy, but so was my other story. I hope you guys love it. I'll update again soon. Read and Review!
Chapter 1: Dead
"This is Milton Mamet. I've been…I've been alerted to a young woman with a bite…", a young man with glasses spoke into a tape recorder. He was nervous, which wasn't without cause. Merle Dixon stood a few feet from him, his bayonet twitching every now and then in frustration. Milton turned to Merle momentarily, before shifting his attention back to the young girl in front of him.
His hand passed over her mouth, feeling a very faint breath, before the same hand rose to her left eyelid. He lifted the soft flesh, and shined a penlight into it, wincing.
"What? I saw that look…", Merle chimed in, stepping closer to the table. He was breathing hot air against the side of Milton's neck, causing him to shudder.
"Um…sh-sh-she's not responding anymore…H-her pulse is down…I have to report this."
"You ain't reportin' shit…", Merle snapped, "My brother is comin' for her. Cut it off…"
"B-but the infection. It's already…It wouldn't do any good."
"DO IT! CUT IT OFF!", Merle practically screamed. The girl's body began to twitch and writhe against the hard wood of the table, "What the hell's goin' on…"
"She's having a seizure. I mean…what did you expect? It's been hours!"
"Nah. She ain't dyin'! Ya hear me?!", Merle lurched forward, his hands coming over her wrists, holding her down. It was a failed attempt, as her eyes opened, and rolled back in her head, a soft growl sounding from her lips, "You told me you could help her!"
"I said I'd try! It's not like you have time, with these things!", Milton called back, removing his glasses to wipe sweat from his face. Slowly the girl's body began to slow it's gyrations and air expelled from her open mouth. Merle stared, slowly releasing her arms, and ran a hand over her mouth.
"No. Nononono…C'mon…", he sighed, pushing his sleeves up.
"What?", Milton asked, furrowing his eyebrows at the desperation in Merle's movements. The older man began doing CPR on the girl, as if by some miracle, she would wake up, "I have to tell Phillip…"
"Shut up and sit down…", Merle gasped, between rib cracking pumps against the girl's chest.
"But…"
"SHUT THE HELL UP AND SIT DOWN…SHIT!", Merle yelled, turning away from the table to pull his hand gun. Milton jumped, backing against a nearby supply table, before lowering himself into a chair, "What do we do?"
"W-well. I mean…she's dead…"
"Nah. She ain't dead. She's a Dixon…", Merle gasped, before going to work on his CPR again.
"Daryl? I brought you some food…", Lori whispered into the darkness. Daryl didn't raise his head, but grumbled to draw her to him, "I also brought you a light…"
The candid way she spoke, and the smile that was soon illuminated by the small lantern she carried sent a pain of grief through Daryl's chest. He almost cried out in agony, but settled for furrowing his eyebrows.
"You want some company?", she asked. As she walked across the room, she slowly stepped over the pool of blood with a sad frown, and sat the plates down against the wall beside Daryl. As if planned, she pulled a towel from her back pocket, unfolded it, and laid it across the puddle, covering it up. It was a motherly act of removing a trigger. Daryl wasn't stupid.
"Rick send ya?"
As if surprised that he spoke, Lori stopped her movements, staring toward his eyes with a soft smile.
"Rick's gotta send me? Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you…bring you some food…play some cards…", she whispered, pulling a deck of cards from her back pocket. She slowly approached him, lowering herself to the floor in front of his bent knees. She moved the lantern closer, lighting up Daryl's exhausted face, and frowned, "Alright. Rick sent me, but I'm worried about you. You should get some rest…"
"I'm restin' right here…", Daryl answered in a raspy voice.
"I mean in a bed, Daryl. You're tired. We all appreciate this place, but it's because of you…"
"Her. It's because of her…", Daryl corrected her. She nodded with a soft smile.
"Of course."
"I can't rest…", Daryl whispered with a shake of the head. He raised both hands to his face, and fought back a new wave of tears, before continuing, "She's out there somewhere…She's…"
"I know, sweetheart…", Lori whispered, her hand coming up to take his hand. She gripped it, running a thumb over his knuckles, "Rick's gonna help you take care of that in the morning. There's no sense in dwelling, is there? Here…eat up…Carl killed the squirrel. You'd be proud of him…"
Daryl had to scoff, his fingers twitching against hers. This is why Rick had sent her. She was exactly what Daryl needed…a mother; someone to convince him that for the night, everything was okay. However, as much as he showed it on the outside, he couldn't convince his body that this was true. Instead, he released a tired sigh.
"Killed it with a shovel…", Lori continued, a small giggle leaving her throat. The giggle quieted, and the smile slowly fell from her face, "We'll get through this. We always do. You're not alone…alright?"
Daryl stared, his stomach rumbling, and slowly he nodded; a tear falling silently onto the leather of his vest.
Merle sat against the wall of the small office, a hand resting on the top of his head in frustration. Without Shan, there was no way for him to find Daryl. Without Shan, everything was pretty much lost for him. She knew where Daryl had been. With a tiny bit of information, he could track Daryl to wherever he had ended up.
"I-I have to tell Phillip. He'll want to take care of it…", Milton spoke up, his movements timid as he watched Merle for a reaction. What he received, however, was a wave of the hand.
"Don't tell him nothin'. I'll take care of it…I'll tell him."
"Are you sure? He'll be angry…", Milton almost whispered, but Merle laughed, and waved him on.
"Go on…It shouldn't be long."
"Al-alright. Just make sure it's contained…", Milton whispered finally, before standing and sneaking out of the office.
Merle scoffed one more time, and glanced to the table. There wasn't much to be done, at this point, but to wait. She would inevitably turn into one of the things he had been employed to capture for entertainment. Had 'Phillip' learned of this…she would become a pet. Sighing, he stood, and towered over her body. Her eyes were slightly open, completely vacant as they stared at the dirty ceiling above. Her mouth also hung open, blood caked around the edges of her lips. She had been through hell and back, and judging by the bruises on her neck, had cheated death at least once. He smirked, but the smirk turned downward into a sad frown.
"I 'on't usually bother talkin' to the dead…Does no good…", he whispered, staring down at her vacant eyes, "..but me and you never were on good terms, between you fu-…bein' with my baby brother and just…bein' you. We just clashed, but…believe it or not, I'm sorry…"
Underwater.
I would describe the feeling of that moment as being trapped under clear ice, underwater, but you can't move or speak. You're literally drowning in yourself. You're literally dying, helplessly. My body no longer ached. My head no longer throbbed with every heartbeat.
In fact, aside from the intense need to breathe, I felt vacant. My brain buzzed, but slowly it seemed that the small windows I peered through began to dim. Haze covered them, as I stared at the shapes on the ceiling, through eyes on fire. I struggled against the ten ton weight that seemed to hold my arms down, trying to pull them up to grab Merle, who was now staring down at me.
His expression was terrifying, as he apologized for the animosity between us. Merle Dixon never apologized for anything. He just burned the bridges, and moved on. I furrowed my eyebrows, hoping that they moved; any sign was a good sign to show him I was alive. I was alive, and I was staring straight at him. I was trying to tell him that it was okay. It was the past. He had saved my life…
His own eyebrows furrowed at the small movement in my facial muscles, and I internally screamed for him to help me. Help me? He didn't even know I was still in here. The burning in my lungs grew with every passing moment, and as it did, the haze covered my eyes a little more.
I tried once more to lift my right hand; pulling and tugging it away from the table with everything I had. What I accomplished…was a simple twitch of the finger, then another, tapping my finger lightly against the metal table…
Merle watched intently, frowning at what he feared was happening in this moment. She was reanimating, turning into something unhuman. It was against the code of ethics in Woodbury, to let one of your own turn, especially family. Her fingers began to twitch, followed by a small breath.
"Don't you get up…", he whispered, as a soft gurgle left her lips.
As I struggled to move, I suddenly managed to breathe. It was a deep and ragged breath, which came from somewhere deep. After the deep breath, came what was meant to be a scream; a sign that I was alive, and not one of the 'dead'. The scream sounded off as a soft growl.
"Oh god…", I whispered in my own brain, "Merle! MERLE!"
As I screamed in my head, my growls grew a bit louder, and Merle closed his eyes tightly, leaning his elbow on the table to cover his face with his one hand. Was this anguish on the face of Merle Dixon? Remorse, maybe? He didn't cry; simply stayed in that position for a few moments, gathering himself, before a large black pistol appeared from under the table. His eyes were wild, as he touched it to my forehead.
"I have to blink. I have to show him…I'm alive. MERLE! I'm alive!", I screamed internally, squinting my eyes as hard as possible. By some miracle, both eyes suddenly slammed shut, before opening wide…the green radiating just as strong as before. I took a deep breath, gasping for any air I could capture, through what seemed to be a straw.
Merle's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at my eyes. He lowered his head to my chest, and sighed at the absence of a heartbeat. He stayed that way for several seconds, before gasping as I took a deep breath.
"If yer alive, princess…you gotta do better than that…I gotta do somethin'…", he murmured, hugging me close to the side of his face to listen for a heartbeat. I was exhausted at this point. Moving was a days work, in itself, but if I didn't work a little more, I would be definitely dead.
I took a deep breath, and began moving my lips. The large movements my brain willed them to make were dampered…and turned into little twitches. Those twitches slowly turned into soft motions, which eventually sounded the word I wanted to say. Smiling excitedly on the inside, I screamed again.
"Mmmerrrrle…", I groaned, and Merle jumped back, his body slamming into the table behind him. He stared for a few moments, letting his heartbeat calm, before pointing to me with closed eyes.
"Okay…", he whispered, and ran out of the room.
Merle raced from the room. No matter how unexplainable it was, the girl wasn't dead. She wasn't dead, and the 'doctor' was going to save her…or else. As if timed perfectly, Milton left his apartment, turning toward the lab. He jumped a bit, as he caught sight of Merle, and sighed sadly.
"So, it's done then?"
"She's not dead…", Merle said simply, his conniving smirk rising onto his lips.
"What? Th-that's not possible…", Milton stammered out, pushing past Merle, to enter the lab. As he pushed through the door and scanned the girl over, he sighed, "I know that she was your brother's…"
"Just check her damn pulse…", Merle snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.
"With lips that blue…and...alright…", Milton caved, stepping up to her. Her chest rose, and then fell once. Milton furrowed his brow, watching the action happen once more after a few seconds. He tilted his head to the side in confusion, and placed the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears. Under her blood stained white shirt, he moved it around, standing as still as possible to find a pulse. There was nothing, "She's just coming back. There's no pulse…it's not…"
He stopped, as a single soft 'thud' rang out through his ears. Then another. Merle watched on, his arms crossed as Milton listened. With every little thud, a bit of pink returned to her skin and lips, and even Milton began to gather hope.
"What? It's beatin' ain't it…", Merle asked with a wide smile. He clapped his hands together and approached the table, picking up her hand. She was cold, and about as dead as a human can get without being in the ground, but her heart was beating, she was kind of breathing, and that was enough hope for Merle. He glanced to Milton's face with a smile, "You do yer magic and she'll be back on 'er feet in no time."
"Now wait a minute…I'm not doctor."
"But yer gonna be. Yer gonna make sure she's fine. You did it with those old people…", Merle reasoned, leaning forward to place a hand on Milton's shoulder. Milton flinched, and sighed heavily.
"Those were cases of old age and cancer. I didn't save any of them…"
"Well here's yer chance to learn. What do you need?", Merle chimed, "I'll go get it for you."
Milton sighed again, rolling his eyes and began pacing, "I'll need a respirator…I have the bandages, I.V. bags and everything already. It's the heavy trauma stuff that I need…even then…"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now…I'm gonna go on a run."
"W-well she can't stay here! She can't be in here when Phillip gets back from hunting…", Milton argued, pointing.
"Well what the hell d'ya want me to do with 'er?"
"I don't know…but she can't stay in his OFFICE, Merle!", Milton almost yelled, exasperated. He pushed past Merle, grabbing a bag, and started tossing things into it.
"I got somewhere for her…", Merle grumbled. He slipped his arms underneath her body, and hoisted her up with a grunt, "C'mon sweetheart. I'll show you yer new house…"
Lori watched Daryl as he sat still, and inevitably fell asleep without a word. She had managed to get a bit of food down him before he crashed, although, he spent much of the time in between trying not to vomit the meal back up. They had played cards, but he was unable to focus for more than a few seconds, before pain would creep up in his stomach.
His soft groans were pitiful, but he played it off well, and had she not known any better…she wouldn't have noticed. As she watched him sleep in the pale light, she slowly rose from the ground, lifting the lantern as she went. He was suddenly like a child, his spirit killed and stomped on. He was everything that she feared for Carl. Biting her lip, she leaned down, and placed a soft kiss to the tuft of hair that covered his ear.
"It'll be okay…Goodnight sweetheart…", she whispered, and exited the room as silently as possible, leaving Daryl to what she hoped weren't nightmares.
I groaned loudly in my head as Merle lifted me from the table. I felt as if my legs and arms were going to disconnect from my body, like a porcelain doll, falling apart at the seams. Every footstep reverberated throughout my body, making it hard for me to breath, as my hand clenched the back of Merle's neck tightly.
"Yeah…yer okay, princess…", Merle cooed, not even phased by the fact that I could suddenly hold on for dear life. I still couldn't close my eyes, and they remained fixated on the ceiling above us. My mouth remained open, drying out with every labored breath. I was basically in a coma, fighting harder than I had ever fought for anything, against this virus, "Here we are."
Around a corner, Merle kicked open a dingy wooden door. He pushed inside, and kicked the door shut behind us; the slam killing my senses. He carried me across the small apartment, into what seemed to be the bedroom. It smelled of cigars and booze…and maybe a bit of human sweat. I cringed at the idea of Merle having sex, but I couldn't complain. I was safe here, until I could get back on my feet, and back to Daryl.
He carefully opened the closet; a large walk in room, and walked me to the back corner. Leaning, Merle carefully laid me down, the motion still crushing my bones into dust, it seemed. He pulled a shirt down, and rolled it up, placing it under my head.
"There you are, now…", he whispered, "Close those eyes and get some rest for me. Don't you give up on me…ya hear? You ain't no pussy. Yer strong. Toughest bitch I ever met…for a kid. I gotta go help out with some shit. Don't throw no parties without me…"
He chuckled, before running a hand over my eyelids, to close them. The relief was instant, and overwhelming, and had I not been fighting for my life, it would have lulled me into sleep.
Merle left without another word, off to find vital medical supplies. I lay there, listening to the sounds of children playing, and music blaring outside the windows. What was this place? Why was I alive?
So many questions, and no one to answer them, as I lay there basically…dead.