SPOILERS FOR 3x15
A/N: Pretty sure I'm crazy for writing Merle/Michonne. (Would their mash-up name be Meronne?)
Disclaimer: If I owned TWD (which I don't), then, being a great believer of second chances and redemption, I probably would've spared you-know-who.
Priceless
"You know, we can go back."
She's right. They can. He can turn the wheel and hightail it back to the prison, back to Rick and the others, arm himself to the teeth, lie in wait for the Governor and his men to raid the place until there's nothing left but walkers.
Or he can just keep driving.
Merle shakes his head, fights and fails to prevent a smile from spreading across his worn face. Simplicity flew out the window when the world when to shit and got flushed down the toilet. Going back wouldn't solve anything; it would just mean a lot of diggin'. "Ain't happenin'."
"Both of us," she continues, ignoring him. "We can just go back."
He shakes his head again. Several times. Because he knows the truth, because she can and he knows what that means for him. "I can't go back, don't you understand that? I can't." He tries so damn hard to tune her out, and if he hadn't been driving, he would've walked away and continued taking out the trash without paying her any mind.
A heartbeat of dead quiet. "Why?"
The car rolls to a stop, a frustrated sigh passing Merle's lips. He throws it in park but keeps the engine running, breathes deep, fighting the urge to hit something, but his heart's not in it anyway. She's melted him down to the man he never had the chance to be: a good man. A man who does the right thing. She's gotten closer to him in mere hours than he ever let Daryl get his entire life. There hadn't been any heart-to-heart talks, any times he'd waved his true colors in front of his brother. He'd covered them up before the world could see and became a garbage man instead.
And now Michonne knew.
He leans over and cuts the wire binding her wrists. Michonne looks down at her free hands like she can't believe his actions, but when she meets his dead serious gaze again, it almost makes her beg him. And she never begs. Anyone. For anything. But she can see it written all over his face and wonders if he'll really muster the strength to let her go.
"You go back with him, get ready for what's next." He invades her space to open the passenger door for her, but Michonne isn't bothered by it, too busy watching him like a hawk, the colors flashing across his face. "I got somethin' I gotta do on my own." He nods, confirming her freedom to go.
She climbs out of the car but can't bring herself to step away from the door. And of course he hands her the sword back, words he can never say aloud put into the simple movement. All the things he ran out of time to tell her. All the answers she would've pried for before he delivered her to the Governor. He settles back in the driver's seat, looking anywhere but at her. What had she ever done for him to go throwing his life around as if it meant nothing? He couldn't really be considering going after the Governor on his own, could he?
Merle hears her boots on the pavement as she backs up and slams the creaky door. At least she has the sense to let him go do what he does best.
Just as he shifts to drive, another piercing sound catches his attention. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees Michonne has migrated to the back of the car, sword drawn. He's pretty sure his mouth drops.
In a rush of air, the back tire deflates.