Nox: This is a companion piece to The Last Time – my fic that delves into Merle's last moments on the WD earth. And there is also a scene taken from another of my fics – The Bad, the Ugly, and the Dixons. If you read that, you'll know which one it is. I hope you feel as I did when I wrote this.
The Walking Dead belongs to Kirkman and AMC.
Blue Eyes
"I'm gonna take care a ya, lil brother," he said, lookin' down on him with those piercing blue-gray eyes a his. His large hand clapped him on the shoulder, and the weight of it made him feel safe.
Didn't matter if the pain a his bruises ached beneath his hand. Didn't matter if Merle teased him every damn day. Didn't matter what.
When Merle said he was gonna do somethin', he did it.
And Merle had done right by him. Somethin' they daddy had never done.
"Ya promise?" He cleared his throat and looked away, squeezing his shoulder tight.
He didn't say nothin', but he looked back down, and nodded, ruffling his hair. He could see the truth in his brother's blue-grays.
Its eyes weren't his. Not Merle's. Not the blue-gray he'd come to accept as Merle, no matter how much they may a reminded him of their ol' man. He'd come to love that blue-gray. Come to rely on the way the blue would shine passed the gray whenever Merle was at his most truthful.
And now?
Now he couldn't see Merle anywhere. Not in the way it held his shoulders, in the way it swaggered over to him, in the way it held his gaze. Not those eyes. Because it wasn't Merle.
He felt his chest constrict and his body tried to curl in on itself. Merle was dead. Merle was fucking dead.
He felt ashamed at the sob that ripped passed his lips and slammed his palms against Merle's chest, unable to control his emotions any longer. And the thing stumbled back, growling and moaning.
It wanted to eat him, wanted to tear him limb from limb.
But Merle would have never a done that.
"Git back here Darylina!" He ran, through the trees, jumped over a fallen branch, and through standing water. He was smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled. It was the chase. Sometimes, he an' Merle just ran, chased each other, through the woods, the mountains. They just run.
They needed too on days like this. When Daddy was bein' daddy again; beatin' on him, pullin' his army blade on him, usin' him as his personal ashtray.
Weren't nothin' new. Was just getting' worse as the days wore on.
He could feel Merle drifitin' too, could feel his need to just leave. He hoped he wouldn't.
"Gotta catch me brother!" He shouted over his shoulder and missed the root coming up out of the ground. He stumbled. And Merle managed to catch up with him, tackling him to the ground, pinning him with his thick arms.
He was breathing heavy. Merle may a been fast but he was faster.
"You little shit," he breathed against his ear, his heart poundin' beneath his back. He laughed, and Merle punched him in the shoulder.
"Ow," he groaned. Merle shoved him off, and rolled over onto his side, facing away from him.
"Merle," he called quietly, rubbing his shoulder, thinkin' on the past few days. He knew somethin' wasn't right with his brother. But he hoped he didn't know what that was.
"You ain't leavin', is ya?" Merle didn't turn to face him, didn't move, didn't even breath. He just lay there on his side, silent for too long.
And then he pushed himself to his feet, still not lookin' at him, and reached down to ruffle his hair. He walked away without a word. Daryl didn't get to see his eyes.
It came at him again, and he pushed it back with all the force he had. He watched it spin round, like a top that didn't have the force it needed to keep spinning.
He felt the warmth slip down his cheeks, passed his lips. He could taste the salt in his mouth, but nothing changed the fact that right there, stumbling before him was the thing that should have been his brother.
But it wasn't. He was gone.
He was always gone. He was always leaving, coming, leaving again. Couldn't remember a time when Merle had stayed fer good. Came to the realization real quick that while Merle would always take care a him, he also had to take care a himself too.
But he couldn't blame Merle for that. He couldn't.
He figured out young that the reason Merle had to take care a himself was coz nobody else had ever done that for him. Not they ol' man. Not they Ma.
And at the time, he couldn't neither.
He wished he could a changed that.
He'd seen'em. The scars. The ugly things that would mark their bodies forever. The things would tell the whole world just who the Dixon boys were. What they weren't. And now Merle was leavin' him coz a that. Coz he'd seen the one thing that Merle had never wanted him to know.
That he was weak too.
"You leavin' Merle?" Merle stood at the door, ready to go. The darkness swallowed them both, but he could hear the handle shakin'. Merle wasn't ready to go, but somethin' was makin' him.
Somethin' he knew Merle would never share.
"If I am?" He called quietly, never turnin' away from the door.
"Don't have to," he said softly. "Please," he whispered, pleaded. And he could see it, could see that Merle almost turned around. Could feel it in the way his body shifted just the slightest, his feet turnin' ever so slightly toward him. Merle's shoulders dropped.
He wanted Merle to come back, to stay with him. He didn't want to be left alone. Merle was the only thing he had left in this world. The only person he loved.
If Merle left, he had nothin'.
But then Merle stopped and the handle twisted and the door opened wide.
"It ain't all about you little brother." And Merle walked out that door, never lookin' back.
"Don't leave me," he called, as the tears slipped down his cheeks. He ran for the door, stopped on the porch. He watched as Merle climbed into the truck and the engine roared to life. Merle never looked back once. He never got to look into those blue-grays.
"Don't leave me!"
And he was leavin' him. Again. Again, and again, and again. Merle was always leavin'.
But fer some reason, this time, it was different.
He pushed him back one last time. Because he couldn't let it go on any longer. Merle was already gone. That thing wasn't Merle. He had to take care of it. Had to do this last thing for his brother.
It was what Merle wanted.
He drew the knife quick, feelin' everything just take him over. He couldn't not do it now, couldn't stop his hands from tremblin', couldn't stop the tears from fallin' down his cheeks, couldn't stop himself from sobbin' like a baby.
He was such a baby. Couldn't find the strength to breathe.
And then it came at him for the last time and he let instinct take over.
He drove his knife into its neck, forcin' it to the ground. He could hear himself screamin', but it didn't matter.
Merle was gone.
And he drove the knife into his face, right through his eye. The blue-grays that weren't blue-gray anymore.
Merle was dead.
And again.
Merle wasn't comin' back.
And again.
Merle couldn't just show up whenever.
And again.
Wouldn't just be lost.
And again.
Wasn't just disappearing.
And again.
Couldn't be his brother anymore.
And again.
He had to stop, had to stop before he couldn't stop. He crawled away from it, away from the thing that had once been his brother and couldn't stop himself from falling to the ground at its feet.
Couldn't stop himself from crying.
Couldn't stop the grief from takin' him over. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
He was such a pussy.
Merle always said he was the sweet one.
But Merle wouldn't be tellin' him nothin' no more.
"Promise me somethin' brother," he whispered hoarsely, hopped up on his pills. They both sat round the fire, in the middle a the woods, just waitin' for those crazy fuckin' dead things to just come an' eat them.
He just grunted.
"Ya ain't gonna let me die at the hands a those ugly sumbitches." He looked up, and watched as Merle stared at the sky. Sometimes Merle would git to talkin' crazy when he was real high. Sometimes Merle got to talkin' real funny when he was high. All that shit bout dyin'. Sometimes he didn't wonder if Merle had thought bout takin' his own life more than once.
"I'm gonna go out my way," he hissed, suddenly lookin' at him, the blue in his eyes shinin' bright in the firelight.
"But if somethin' happens…" he trailed off, eyes back on the sky, "then I want you ta do it." Daryl didn't know what to say to his brother so he just let him talk, and sat in silence, listening.
"Know yous the sweet one, always was a good kid," he murmured, eyes drifting closed. "Don't wanna have ta make ya do it," he mumbled. And then his eyes were closed and Merle was quiet.
And he watched the fire crackle in the darkness, as the noises of the night went on around him. Didn't think he could ever kill his brother. But he was gonna make sure he never had to.
"I'll take care a ya brother," he mumbled through the dark, and then he drifted off to sleep.
He lay there, at Merle's feet, unable to move, unable to think, unable to breathe. He didn't take care a Merle. He didn't watch out for his brother. He'd had to make that promise happen in the end. Had to do the thing his brother had wanted all those months ago when the world first went to shit.
And he failed him. He promised himself he would take care a Merle. He would make it work at the prison. He wanted it to work. But even now, after all the fucked up shit Merle had done, he was still tryin' to take care a him. Merle was always tryin' to take care a him. Even though Merle was just as fucked up as he was, Merle still tried his fuckin' best.
He glanced over at his brother.
Not Merle.
He rolled onto his back, ignored the groaning that was getting closer and stared up at the blue sky that stretched above him.
"Took care a it brother," he choked out, watchin' the clouds drift above. It would have to do. After everything that Merle had tried to do fer him, it would have to do. Merle may not have done it all right, may have gone about it all the wrong ways, but it would have to do.
Not like they'd ever been taught anything different.
The wind ghosted across his face, drying his tears. And all he could feel was Merle's hand pattin' the side of his cheek.
And the chokin' sound of the walker nearby chewin' on the downed corpse of the Governor's men – all he could hear was Merle chucklin' at him, like somethin' was fuckin' funny.
He rolled onto his side, away from Merle, and curled inward.
"Gotta go brother," he whispered, as the tears fell anew, across his nose.
He knew he had to. Governor wouldn't wait for him, or anyone, or anything. Didn't have time to stay and mourn. He'd have to do that some other time. Didn't have time to give his brother the burial he wanted, even though Merle prob'ly didn't give two shits whether he was buried or not.
Didn't have time to say goodbye.
Merle made sure they wouldn't have to deal with that either. Just like Merle. To take that away from him. To finally do somethin' in the end that he didn't want to fight him on.
He rolled to his feet, and picked up the crossbow discarded on the ground. And he took off before he changed his mind, before his emotions changed his mind, jogging away from the corpse that was his brother.
But he stopped before he rounded the building and looked back at the body lying there on the ground.
"We Dixons brother," Merle crowed, slappin' him on the back. "Shit don't come easy ta us. Never has, never will. An' I ain't beggin' fer shit ta change." He watched as the blue started to shine in Merle's eyes. "Long as I got ma brother, who the fuck cares. Family is what matters."
He looked back, to where the prison awaited him.
Merle was gone now. But that didn't mean he didn't have nothin' left. And he could see now that Merle had tried to make sure a that. He took off, the ache in his chest heavy. Heavy with the weight of just what Merle had done for him.
He'd never forget.
Merle pulled him against his side, gripping his shoulder tight, blue eyes shinin'.
"You an' me, brother."
"Always," he whispered.
If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes.