Author's Note: This was something I'd been playing with for a long time, itching to write it but not entirely sure. Then I saw a quote from Michael Rooker, something along the lines of how Merle is a tough guy and an asshole, but he likes puppies, kittens and little kids. That pretty much sealed the deal, and this one shot was born.

Special thanks to Cate for helping me edit this.

The screeching was constant now, a never ending goddamn track that was driving him up a fucking wall. How long had it been going on now? An hour, maybe two? Then again, it probably only felt that way. Time slowed down to almost a stop when the hell spawn of good ole Officer Friendly wouldn't shut the hell up. It was well after dark, but there wasn't anybody in that prison getting any sleep.

Merle raised his eyes from his seat on the stairs, watching as the blonde girl quit her singing and handed the screaming kid off to her sister for the third time. They'd all been paying "pass the baby" for a while now, and by 'all' he meant everyone but himself. With the kid's daddy gone on a run with her brother and that Michonne, and his own brother, who apparently was some kind of fucking baby whisperer, on watch with Carol, nobody seemed to be able to calm the squawking small fry down.

At first, he'd bitched from his cell about the noise – loudly – but that didn't do a damn bit of good. Just like the pillow he shoved over his head didn't do shit to drown out the noise from below. Everything echoed in that place. Finally, he just gave the fuck up and came out with the rest of them to watch the show.

Maggie passed the baby off to the Chinaman – excuse him, Korean kid, as everyone was so intent on reminding him – who looked to be about as comfortable as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The guy, Glenn, shifted the screeching thing up onto his shoulder to no avail. Merle didn't bother to hold back the snort. Kid looked like he didn't know whether to scream or sit down and cry himself.

"Glenn, you have to bounce her!" The boy's woman was yelling at him, grabbing at her brown hair in her own frustration. "No, not so hard!" she chastised when he made an attempt.

"I'm trying, Maggie! Why don't you take her and I'll go let Carol off watch. She'll know what to do." Well, it was about damn time someone suggested it. He would have done it ages ago, if anyone would have thought to listen to him. Hell, they'd have done the opposite just to spite him if he'd said anything.

"No, Glenn! She's always the one with Judith!" Maggie shot back.

"She's right." Hershel, the old man, spoke up from closest to him at the base of the steps. "Carol needs a break from the baby. Here, let me try again." He motioned for Glenn to pass him the kid. The chorus of cries continued.

If anything, the volume got louder. Merle wasn't sure how that was even possible. He figured the thing would have screamed herself hoarse by now, but she had one hell of a set of lugs on her. Well, with these geniuses on the case, none of them would ever sleep again. They were being bested by a baby, and a newborn at that.

He didn't want to get in the middle of this. Merle Dixon did what suited him best, and that had sure as hell never included any baby. Judging by their lack of asking for his assistance, they'd just as soon he stayed out of it, too. The fact remained that what suited him best at the moment was to get some fucking sleep. His watch shift was the one after next, and he didn't fancy being up in that tower and not on the top of his game because he was tired. It was a good way to get them all killed. The old man handed the baby back to the younger blonde girl, and his decision was made. Shit.

Heaving a great sigh, Merle began undoing the straps on the contraption covering his stump. He didn't take it off much. The stump wasn't very pretty to look at, and doing it left him unprotected in a way he wasn't real comfortable with now that he was down a hand, but he would have to for this. Hershel seemed to be the only one noticing, looking up at him strangely. Merle just smirked down at him.

"Hey!" He called to Maggie, who by then had once again obtained the duties of bouncing the squawking kid around. "Bring the kid and follow me!" Contraption in hand, he headed up the stairs without waiting for an answer. He paused on the perch, only to find she hadn't moved. "You want the kid to shut up or not? Y'all can't seem to do shit about it." The girl hesitated, but headed up the stairs after him with the wailing infant upon receiving a nod from her father, much to the dismay of her boyfriend.

"You can't seriously be letting Merle..."

The Asian's protests faded as he entered the cell he shared with Daryl. Gingerly, he placed the prosthetic on the ground near the bottom bunk. The bottom was technically Daryl's, but it was going to have to do. An echo of cries off the walls of the cell signaled the girl's arrival.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

He snickered.

"I know it's hard for you, girlie, but you're just going to have to trust me." He looked over his shoulder at her. Lips pursed, she looked none too happy, but she made no further move to protest. "Get that outfit off the kid," he ordered then, turning around to face her fully. "Those little socks too, just leave the diaper." The sour look on her face got worse.

"She'll get cold," Maggie insisted, groaning as the kid let out a particularly ear piercing screech. She shifted the baby to her shoulder, but it did nothing.

"We're trusting me, remember?" Merle countered, more than annoyed by now. "It's a summer night in Georgia. She ain't getting cold."

"She's a baby!" Maggie shouted over the kid.

"You want my help or not?!" After a few moments of nothing but the baby's cries, the girl relented and laid the baby on the bed to quickly divest her of her sleeper and booties, tossing them to the floor. When she was done, Maggie scooped her back up and looked at him expectantly.

Taking a seat on the bunk, Merle reached with his hand and pulled the dirty undershirt over his head. He ignored the look the farmer's daughter gave him, the one that was asking if he'd lost his damn mind, and rearranged the pillow so he could half prop himself against it. When he was situated, nearly laying down completely, he extended his arms.

"Give her here."

By now, he noted, Hershel and Maggie's sister had made it to the doorway to watch the show. Figured. Even if they let him in the prison, none of them trusted him – not even Daryl, not really. It was more than evident in the way the girl hesitated, baby flailing in her arms.

"Jesus fucking Christ, girl!" he cried. "You gonna stand there all day? Give her here!"

That seemed to do the trick, and suddenly he found his arms full of seven pounds of screaming, writhing little human. Getting her situated was tricky with only one hand, and he was slow and careful about it. They'd never let him live it down if he broke the kid. Finally, he had the little thing laid out on her stomach in the middle of his broad chest.

He fought the urge to stiffen up. Merle didn't do babies, but if he could take out those dead sons of bitches, he could handle this tiny, little thing. He took a breath, ignoring the six eyes that were all on him, and did his best to soften his usually gruff voice.

"Alright, little lady, you and me are gonna come to an understanding." He brought his arm with the stump up to rest behind his head, and let his hand run over the baby's hair and down her back. In doing so, he noticed two things. The kid's hair was soft, softer than anything he'd felt in a long time, and she was small.

He would not have been surprised in the least if that baby could fit entirely in his hand, judging by the looks of it resting on her back. That, combined with his massive chest beneath her made her look nothing more than a speck upon his person. How was it than anyone could be that little?

Tiny hands clenched and unclenched against his chest as the baby cried. Softly, he began to shush her, running his hand from her head to her back again and again. It took a moment or two, but her cries slowly turned into whimpers. The squirming ceased, hands unfurled, and she settled her little head against his sternum.

"There's a good girl," he called softly as the whimpers dissipated all together and the baby nodded off. Glancing up, he smirked at the two dumbfounded girls and smiling old man in the doorway. "They just don't know how to handle a lady, now do they?" he teased.

Then his brother and Carol were pushing through the crown at the door, stopping dead just inside. After taking a moment to give him a blank stare, which Merle returned, Daryl called over his shoulder. "Yeah, looks like Asskicker is in some real danger here, Glenn!"

The Asian appeared. What was this, a goddamn museum with him as the main attraction? The Chi – Korean stuttered, sputtered and gaped until Hershel put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on Glenn, girls, let's go get some sleep."

Everyone filed out but his brother and Carol, who seemed more than content to keep staring at him. The woman nodded to the baby resting on his chest. "Glenn said she's been screaming since we left. How did you know?"

Merle studied her for a moment, then his brother. "You used to do the same thing," he told Daryl. He'd been ten when his baby brother was born, and recalling the memory was easy. "You'd be so loud Miss Betsy up the street complained more than once. Ole Jack didn't appreciate it."

He didn't have to elaborate. They both knew exactly what happened when Jack Dixon didn't like something. "Mama used to sleep on the couch with you tucked up under her nightgown. She'd strip you down to her your diaper and situate you where nothing but your head was sticking out under her chin."

Daryl was silent, unsurprisingly. The two of them spoke better without words anyhow. The nod Merle got in response was more than enough.

"I used to do the same thing with Sophia." Carol's voice startled them both. "It's the skin on skin. Babies like it, it soothes them. They like to hear your heartbeat, too. She's been used to hearing...Lori's." On that note, she stepped forward and reached out her arms. "Here, I'll take her now."

The little one snorted then, squirming around on him as if to protest before settling once more. "Don't think you will." Merle replied. "I plan on getting some sleep one way or another, and you heard the little lady."

Clearly startled by his rejection, the petite woman hesitated, arms still outstretched toward him. His brother stepped up behind her, placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Go on." Daryl urged her. "I'll feed her when she wakes up. Get some sleep."

There wasn't so much as a trace of hesitation this that time, as if his brother's word was law. She merely reached up her own hand to squeeze the one Daryl had laid on her shoulder. Merle raised his eyebrow. They was something he'd look into later, he determined as Carol turned to leave.

"And tell Glenn to get his ass to the watch tower, since he drug us in here for nothing!" his brother added, reaching down to untie his boots.

Now that the spectacle was over, Merle shifted just enough to get comfortable to sleep. The baby let out the tiniest of whines, sounding rather annoyed with his impromptu earthquake. He closed his eyes and let his thumb brush over her shoulder in consolation. "Sorry, darlin', didn't mean to shake you around."

He heard Daryl snort as he climbed onto the top bunk. Frowning, Merle called out to him. "The fuck you laughing at?"

"Nothing, bro," Daryl shot back, snickering again. "It's just that if you had talked that nice the next morning to half the girls you brought home, you would have had a lot less trouble."

That time, Merle allowed himself a chuckle of his own, mindful not to jostle the baby too much with the movement of his chest. "This coming from the guy they tell me is Mr. Mom." He threw back.

"Says the man with the baby on his chest," Daryl returned, not missing a beat.

"Do what you got to for some sleep, baby bro." To prove his point, he fell silent then, fully intending to join the little girl in her rest. A few moments later though, the top bunk creaked and rustled, and his brother grunted at him.

"Here," He opened his eyes to find a blanket hanging over the side of the bunk. "She gets cold sometimes. Pretty warm tonight, but just in case." With a sigh, Merle reached his hand over to snatch the blanket and spread it across him and the kid.

"Alright, that's enough. We best stop 'fore our dicks fall off."

Merle laid there for a while, in that space between sleeping and waking, focused on the little thing on his chest. She was curled into a ball, knees tucked under her, breathing out tiny puffs of air that just barely disturbed the hair on his chest. Her breath came faster than his, but he still found that, even so, hers had fallen into a rhythm with his. For every one he took, she took three. He could feel her heartbeat too, beating rapidly against his sternum, a constant reminder that it was another fucking human that was sleeping on him. It was comforting and unnerving at the same time.

As he brushed his thumb along her shoulder again, marveling silently at how soft it was compared to his own calloused skin, he could suddenly understand why Daryl had thrown that fit on the highway over the baby. The things sure did have a way of making you real fond of them real quick.

He could remember being young, maybe four or five, years before Daryl was born. The three of them, he and his parents, were at the flea market getting Jack a new knife. There was an old man there with a cardboard box full of beagle pups. He had called out to them as they passed him.

"A dog for your boy?"

Merle had already spotted the box before the man spoke, and had his arms reaching for the runt of the litter. The pup had floppy brown ears and striking blue eyes. It was the damnedest thing, so much that he could remember it clearly even then. Before he could reach it though, Jack was smacking his hands away.

"Don't need no dog!"

His mama had tried, but to no avail. "Jack, just let him play with it for a little bit while you go off and find your knife. It won't hurt anything."

Merle had reached for the pup again, but Jack grabbed his wrist.

"Don't you pick that thing up, boy. You'll get attached."

It had been years since he'd thought about that day at the flea market, maybe decades. Jack Dixon was an abusive old drunk that Merle always thought never taught him a damn thing. He'd learned to track from his pap, learned to read from his mama and, ironically enough, his Uncle Mack was the one to teach him how to pop the cap off a beer. He'd gone his whole life, fifty-two years thinking that man never said a damn thing to him worth hearing, and here he was finding out he'd been wrong.

Everyone at that prison tolerated him for Daryl. They didn't make a secret of it, and Merle had never been stupid, contrary to popular belief. He doubted even if he did make some kind of honest effort that they'd ever see him any different, especially after Woodbury. It wasn't exactly skin off his nose, just that he'd never really been one to hang around where he wasn't wanted. He made it on his own, gave the middle finger to the rest of them.

This little one though, she was different. She didn't scowl at him and make snide remarks to make him feel unwanted. If anything, she was the only one besides Daryl to make him feel like she genuinely wanted his company. Little thing wasn't busy looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to bring them all to ruin. She was curled up against him, trusting him blindly as only a babe could.

She opened her mouth, yawning wide and loud into the quiet of the cell, and he sighed. As he ran his hand over her little head once more, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Don't you pick that thing up, boy. You'll get attached."

There you have it, y'all. I hope it wasn't too OOC. Let me know. :)

Love and blessings,

Rose