AN: I adore The Walking Dead, it's one of my favourite shows. My favourite ships involve Rick or Daryl, especially Rick and Daryl, but that story has been written heaps of times already and much, much better than I ever could. Still, I wanted to write something for this fandom and after rewatching season 3 I realised how much I actually miss Merle. Yeah, he can be an arsehole sometimes, but he's funny, unpredictable and gets shit done. Anyway, I've decided to pair him up with Michonne because it's random and because I reckon she deserves to have someone looking out for her for once. Enjoy...
Chapter 1: This Sorrowful Life
When Michonne had come to her hands were bound and there was a bag on her head. Merle Dixon had knocked her out and taken her sword. Now he led her like a dog towards her death. A death that would be as slow and as painful as the Governor could make it. Not many things scared her anymore, but that did.
They'd been supposed to be taking care of some rogue walkers in the tombs so the others could barricade the prison against an attack from the self-proclaimed ruler of Woodbury. She realised now she'd been tricked, Rick had never given that order. She felt like a fool for believing a single world that had come out of Merle Dixon's foul mouth.
But fool or not, she wasn't ready to die yet. She hadn't lived this long, suffered all she'd suffered, to die at the hands of an ignorant redneck.
She stays calm and throws subtle threats at him, but he just laughs. In a way he's like her; they know how to take care of themselves. Scarily, they kinda fit into this new world.
Further along the way he hitches her to a post like an animal, so he can hotwire a car. Suddenly the alarm is screaming and walkers are being drawn in from everywhere. She's tied up, swordless, helpless. Even though he's put her in this vulnerable position, and even though he was knowingly going to hand her over to a sadistic psychopath, when the walkers start to close in it's him she calls to for help.
"Merle! Come on, Merle! Merle!"
That's how desperate she is.
He can't hear her over the wailing alarm so it's up to her. Survival mode kicks in and she manages to save herself. In a way it's satisfying to know she wasn't helpless after all.
He fights his own battle and then he's cutting her loose and telling her to get into the car. He almost sounds worried and she wonders if it's something she can use.
On the road she tries a new tactic. Threats didn't work, maybe rattling his cage will.
"So is this your thing, then? You take out the trash?"
"Don't be so hard on yourself, darlin'," he taunts. She lets it go and decides she needs to up her game.
"The Governor, Rick, anyone who needs their piss bucket emptied and you come a-running."
They play back and forward, both trying to find the thing that will bring the other undone. She tries using Daryl against him but it doesn't work. Merle is assured of where he stands with his brother, he knows Daryl's loyal to him. In a moment of desperation, or inspiration, she appeals to his sense of decency.
"But once the Governor's done with me, at least I won't have to live with myself. You said you killed sixteen men since this thing started? You ever kill anyone before?"
He shifts uncomfortably.
"No."
Gotcha. She presses on.
"And how about before Woodbury? Before you met him? Huh?" Merle's cracking, she's found the weak spot. He doesn't like what the Governor has made him become.
"So he saves your life, cleans you up, fed you a line of bullshit. Why would you kill somebody else for him? You know, we can go back."
"Ain't happening."
"Both of us. We can just go back."
"I can't go back." There's defeat in his voice now and she knows she's won. "Don't you understand that?" He appeals to her. "I can't." She almost feels sorry for him now, except that he was going to give her to the Governor and she can't forgive that. Frustratingly, she can't let go of hope either. It's a useless remnant of the old world which prompts her to ask, "Why?"
Without a word, he stops the car and cuts her loose.
"You go back with them. Get ready for what's next. I got something I got to do on my own." She takes her chance and gets out. She doesn't run though, she watches him drive out of sight and knows she'll never see him again. He's burdened by something the Governor isn't; a conscience. And he'll die trying to rid his soul of the black mark the Governor put there, when he asked Merle Dixon to kill for him and Merle accepted.
xxx
She wanders back towards the prison, retracing steps from earlier in the day no less heavily. This time, instead of her own impending doom, she feels the weight of yet another death pressing down on her. When were people gonna stop killing each other and focus on the real threat? Her eyes land on the severed head of a walker. The horrible, rotten thing is snapping it's teeth as though it's still got a belly to fill. She drives the katana through it's brittle skull.
"Hey!" She looks up to see Daryl. "Where's my brother? You kill him?"
She shakes her head. "He let me go."
"Don't let anyone come after me."
What was it with the Dixon's? Their self-sacrificing actions were totally at odds with their gruff attitudes. Merle had never considered asking for help either. Daryl was different though, he was her friend. So if Daryl wasn't going to ask she'd have to offer, because she couldn't let him go alone. She knew he'd walk straight into the middle of whatever battle he came across, because no matter the odds, he would do anything he could to save his brother.
And Merle might be an arsehole but he was right about one thing; the Governor needed to be stopped.
"Hey Daryl! Wait up!"
xxx
The killing field they come across doesn't bode well. They check the bodies, they kill the walkers, none of which are Daryl's brother, much to the relief of the younger Dixon.
It's inside that they find him, slumped on the floor, an ominous dark puddle spreading out around him and Daryl freaks out.
Michonne draws her sword, knowing what needs to be done. She'd expected to find some sick satisfaction in putting Merle down but she doesn't. She just feels tired. Defeated. Another life has ended. She'll do what's right. As she readies for the blow Merle's eyes crack open. She never thought she'd see him reanimate. It's a fate worse than death and while some people deserve it, Merle isn't one of those. Despite his misguided tactics Merle had been doing what he thought was best. He'd been trying to save everyone. Well everyone except her.
She holds the katana poised to finish him.
"Dream come true for you, huh girl?" Merle rasps out. She drops her weapon in shock and falls to her knees by his side. He's still alive and that means there's a chance, one she's suddenly desperate for. It's that niggling hope that things will get better, that they don't have to keep suffering, keep losing.
Daryl's there too, an actual smile on his face.
"Shoulda known you were too tough for that son of a bitch, huh Merle?" Daryl's hands roam over his brother, searching for injury.
Her eyes do the same. There's an obvious wound in his chest. Merle wheezes and struggles to breathe.
"What'd he do?" Michonne asks, trying to assess how best to help.
"Nicked a lung. Tension," he sucks in another painful breath, "pneumothorax."
"What?" Daryl frowns.
"Top left pocket, little brother." Daryl immediately fishes out a pill box containing a needle. Drug paraphernalia.
"Really?" she can't help but ask.
"Never know when you might need to check out." Merle tries to grin but it's more like a grimace and Michonne's not surprised that even now, three parts dead, Merle still won't shut up. She finds it strangely comforting. Like the world is still on it's axis or something.
"What do we do?" Daryl asks.
"Second rib space, mid-clavicular line." Merle sounds like he's vomiting a text book. They both hesitate at the unexpected instruction. "Shove it in," Merle insists, gasping for breath. "Too much air... in my chest."
"I-" Daryl falters.
"I'd a done it myself if I coulda you pussies..." he spits, lifting his left hand a few inches before it drops back to the floor. It's a bloody mess. Two fingers are missing.
"You bit?" Daryl asks worriedly, grey eyes raking over his brother's haggard face.
"Not by a walker," Merle wheezes. Half laughing, half choking to death.
Michonne grabs the needle.
"Get his shirt off," she instructs. Daryl does that and she feels for the spot Merle said.
"Here?" she asks, pressing her finger into the flesh between his ribs.
"Yep," Merle winces. Michonne inserts the needle, a rush of air escapes. Merle draws in a full breath. It's a start.
"Get pressure on that wound," she barks at Daryl, they are by no means out of the woods yet. "Stop the bleeding." Daryl wraps it up as best he can.
"We're gonna have to move you Merle. We've gotta get you back to Hershel. This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry."
"Whatever you gotta-" Merle's words are cut off by a pained cry as they haul him to his feet.
xxx
They manage to load him into an abandoned vehicle. Daryl drives and she rides in the back with Merle, doing her best to stop him bleeding out before they get back to the prison.
He's pale, clammy, drifting in and out of consciousness.
She smacks his cheek, trying to get him to keep his eyes open and focus on her.
"Merle. Hey, c'mon. You're gonna be alright. Just keep looking at me." She doesn't want to face another needless death. Why can't people understand the real enemy is out there, waiting to eat them, not amongst the few living people left?
Merle's eyes slide shut. She smacks him again. "Focus Merle, you can't die yet. Not yet." His eyes crack open again and he grins at her before he loses consciousness completely. Like she just said the funniest thing in the world. She doesn't want to think it, but the thought is there; of course Merle Dixon was gonna die with a smile on his face. She presses her hands harder against the wound, unwilling to give up.
"I still owe you an ass kicking after that shit you pulled," she tells his unresponsive form.
xxx
"What happened?" Rick demands, when they finally make it back to the prison.
"The Governor had some fun," Daryl says shortly, pushing past Michonne to haul Merle out of the car. Merle's heavy, and seeing Daryl's struggle, Rick immediately goes to his aid, slinging Merle's other arm around his shoulder, and helping the archer get his injured brother into a cell where Hershel can work.
Michonne goes ahead to open the doors.
"Hershel!" she yells into the prison. "We need help!"
They get Merle onto a cot and the old man appears in the door way with his youngest daughter. When he sees the situation he sends Beth for his kit.
Daryl's hovering over Merle, panicking, Rick has to pull him back for Hershel to get through.
"What happened?" Hershel asks, as Beth comes back with the bag.
"That psycho Governor tried to kill him!" Daryl yells. "Do somethin'!"
"Get him outta here, Rick," the old man instructs. Rick coaxes Daryl away.
"You got somethin' more helpful to say?" Hershel asks calmly. It takes Michonne a moment to realise he's talking to her.
"Umm, yeah. Just the chest wound... and his hand," she adds when her eyes land on the blood soaked rag wrapped around Merle's fingers. Or at least what left of them.
The old man notices the needle hanging out of Merle's chest.
"What's this?"
"He said something about too much air in his chest. He made me stick that in so he could breathe. I think the knife hit one of his lungs." Hershel bends his head to listen to Merle's unsteady breaths.
"Pulmonary laceration," the vet nods. "You've done the right thing Michonne. Without a hospital all we can do is keep the drain open until the lung heals. They actually heal remarkably well on their own. The main problem is going to be keeping any infections out."
Michonne nods, that'll mean dressings and antiseptics and medication.
"Tell me what you need."
AN: I made Merle's injury a stab wound rather than a gunshot so I wouldn't have to deal with removing bullets or exit wounds. Thanks for reading.