Hey ya'll! Here's a much sadder Merlonne fic to pass the day by.
I own nothing. This will be post "Welcome To The Tombs".
The Outsiders
Michonne had seen a lot of death in the past year, and she had tried to tell herself that she had gotten used to it. Now as she stood before her best friend's grave, the katana-wielding survivor was starting to question how much more she could take. It wasn't enough that she had to witness her boyfriend become a member of the undead. Then she had to watch Andrea commit suicide to prevent herself from turning into one of those… things.
The young woman just sighed to herself as she knelt down before the makeshift grave marker. While they had their hot and cold moments, Michonne would have done anything for her best friend. It almost killed her to watch that bullet blow through Andrea's brain.
"Are you okay?" came a cautious voice from behind her. Michonne glanced over her shoulder, to see Carol standing with a sympathetic smile. The younger of the two stood up and touched her face, just now realizing that she was actually crying.
"Yes," Michonne answered quietly. She smiled back at Carol, though it wasn't completely genuine. It was kind of cute to see that the elder woman was still wearing Daryl's jacket. "I'm living and breathing, aren't I?"
"On the outside, yes," Carol began again, coming up to the darker-skinned survivor, "but what about on the inside? You could probably use some rest, Michonne."
"I'll be fine," Michonne went on, glancing back at Andrea's grave. "I should be used to death all around me by now."
The older woman took a long pause, careful to say the right thing. "I've lost a lot of people that I've cared about. My daughter, especially. Ed—well, there are not many good things I can say about him, but—" She let out a heavy sigh, "we will all miss Andrea, there's no doubt about it."
Not much else was said for quite a while. Carol just stood next to Michonne, hoping that it helped to have someone there to talk to if she needed it.
"You know," she told the younger woman after a while, "Daryl comes out here a lot to see Merle," Carol shrugged as she continued, "it helps him get his frustrations out, I think. No one really got the time—or took the time, actually, to get to know him."
Michonne's breathing hitched in her chest for a moment. One of the last things that she had said to Merle was that no one would grieve for him. Had he believed her? Daryl was obviously grieving, and even she was too. Sure, they hadn't gotten off on the right foot, but she was honestly starting to trust him. A few months ago, if he had asked her to walk into the tombs with her, she would have beaten him senseless before she would agree to go.
"I remember Merle back when we first met in Atlanta," Carol looked up towards the sky, crossing her arms over her chest. The depleting sunlight beamed down on her and Michonne's faces, but neither one of them could feel the warmth, no one could. "He was a mean, hateful bastard with an equally vicious brother-"
"But Daryl changed, did he not?" Michonne asked, not even a beat later.
"He did," Carol nodded, a small smile growing on her face. "That's why I thought that, maybe, Merle would change too."
The younger survivor sat back on her heels for a moment, dreads falling across her back. "He saved me from getting mauled by walkers. He set me free from Rick's genius plan to hand me over to the Governor, and he died trying to stall Woodbury's attack on the prison."
Michonne planted her feet firmly on the ground once more and glanced over at Carol, "if he didn't redeem himself after all of that, then I don't know what would have."
For a moment, the elder woman didn't know what to say. Other than Daryl, she hadn't heard anyone else defend Merle before. Sure, Carol knew herself that she had hopes for Merle, but those were all for her love-interest's sake.
Before either of them could voice their opinions, Daryl himself made an appearance. The darker survivor took that as her cue to leave. She needed some time to herself, no matter what. Michonne passed by Daryl with not so much as a passing glance.
"What got into her?" the last remaining Dixon murmured under his breath. He made his way over to Carol, who was looking just as concerned.
o—o—o
Michonne pressed up against the cool cell bars keeping her from the rest of the survivors. Something had overcome her back there, and she wasn't quite sure what it was. She was there to mourn for her best friend, nothing less, but now all of a sudden, she wanted to mourn for Merle, too?
You're just as much of an outsider as I am, girl.
His words were true. Andrea never understood; she was always accepted in this group, even if she had spent about eight months away from them. Michonne, though, it didn't matter what she did, she was just there because she was a good fighter. Just as Merle had been. They were both outsiders, who could be pawned off like useless belongings.
You know we can go back.
Merle didn't even take the time to consider her offer. They could have gone back to the prison together. They could have formulated a plan to take the Governor out once and for all. But no, he had to prove himself to his brother. He could have cared less about proving himself to any of the others. All that mattered was Daryl. And that was what made her mind up about the brash redneck. He was a good man, deep down. If he would have gotten back to the prison, things definitely would have changed between the two of them. Had she known what he was doing all along though, things would have changed a lot sooner.
Now it never will. Michonne ran a shaky hand through her dreads and swiftly pushed herself off of the cell bars. She would try to get some sleep, even though it was probably going to be merely impossible. The Governor will be back to claim the prison. With that thought in the back of her mind, she tried to lay down in the top bunk of her cell. She promised herself that she wouldn't think more about Andrea or Merle. It just hurt too damn to think about the what-ifs. Michonne was an outsider, and probably always would be.
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