A/N: Takes place towards the end of season 3… but not the end-end, if you know what I mean (no spoilers here!). Merle is still living in the jail with everybody, and being his usual asshole self, and Rick is trying to find a way to make it work.
Warning: Like the label says, this is daryl!whomp. Warning for minor violence. Not extreme, but potentially triggery, if you've got issues with father-figures and belts.
"Merle. Can I talk to you a second?"
"Sure thing, boss!" It's too bright and the smile doesn't come anywhere near his eyes. Rick is glad; at least Merle does him the courtesy of not pretending.
He takes him aside where nobody else can hear. Daryl is standing in the doorway, restless, so Rick orders him out with a gesture and he goes.
"So." Merle says when they're alone. Crosses his arms.
"We need to get some things straight between you and me," Rick says.
"Lay it on me, boss."
He's going to interrupt whenever Rick pauses, that's clear. Rick takes a breath for patience and goes on. "We got rules here. Laws. Okay? You need to understand that even if the world's fallen apart there are still consequences for breakin laws, just like always. You hear?"
Merle laughs. "We're already in jail, boss. Are you gonna build a jail in the jail to-"
"Naw, no jail." Two can play the interruption game. Rick shakes his head with a brief smile, as if they're actually joking together. Then he gets serious. "Here we gotta get creative."
"All ears."
"Now… I already cleared this with Daryl," Rick warns, "So don't bother arguin. Just listen up, because this is how it's gonna be."
At the mention of his brother, Merle draws himself up with a frown. He takes his boot off the chair, stands with his hips and shoulders square. "How's it gonna be," he says softly. All challenge.
"How it's gonna be is, if you screw up – if you break our rules, our laws – then there's gonna be consequences. But I know you're a tough sonofabitch and you wouldn't care what I do to you, so:" He says the rest slowly and calmly and staring into Merle's eyes. "When you screw up, I'm gonna take off my belt, and I'm gonna give Daryl a fuckin beating with it. Do you understand me?"
Rick is tensed and ready to fight; he knows he might have to shoot right here if Merle lunges with that knife-hand of his… but Merle does nothing of the kind. Instead he wilts, deflates, jaw slack and eyes glazed. After a moment he shakes his head. "No," he rasps, but Rick talks over him.
"And he's gonna lie there and take it, because you know that's what he does, and I am gonna beat him until I think you got the message, and-"
"You sonofa-"
"And if I have to whip him til he cries I will," Rick says over him, voice rising now, "And if I have to whip him til it scars I will, and he will wear those scars, and you will know it is all… on… you!"
It's silent. He's standing over Merle now, because Merle has hunched down, hands on his knees, shaking his head violently.
Rick drops his voice to almost a whisper. "I think neither of us wants that, but you know I will do it if I have to. Are we clear?"
After a long, long time, Merle nods.
It's only a matter of time before Merle crosses a line. He and Michonne are at it like cats and dogs every day, but Michonne can take care of herself, so Rick turns a blind eye. It's when things get heated with Glenn and Maggie, and a blow from the metal stump leaves Glenn with a concussion, that he can't ignore any more.
He doesn't take long to decide; Merle will read hesitation as fear. "Knocking people out because they annoy you is against our laws, Merle," he says. "I told you what would happen if you broke our laws."
Daryl's got half an eye on his brother, as always, and the trouble has drawn him over. He overhears that last bit. "Shit," he mutters.
Rick turns to him. "I'm sorry, Daryl."
"Not your fault," Daryl says tightly. "Do it now?"
Swift action is one thing, but this is happening almost too fast for Rick to process. "Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." He tries to stay calm.
Merle, of course, is anything but. It takes five people – including Daryl, who's the only one brave enough to get near that knife – to wrangle him into the cell block and lock him in a cell. Once the door is secure, Daryl snarls "We don't need no damn audience!" and the block empties out fast.
Merle has stopped raging and started to beg. "I just- I just smacked him upside the head, Rick, come on!" Rick ignores him. "I didn't use the knife for Christ's sake!"
"If you had," Rick says, "I'd have shot you dead, and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
That shuts him up for a second, long enough for Rick and Daryl to talk logistics. "Up against the bars?" Daryl suggests, nodding towards the window. "Give me something to hold on to?"
Rick looks around. There's enough clearance to swing a belt, and it's right in Merle's line of vision. "Yeah, that'll work." Merle has started up again, muttering and swearing, so Rick has to talk a little louder to be heard over him. "Take your shirt off – lesson's no good if he can't see it."
"No!" Merle roars, and Rick doesn't quite understand that until Daryl nods and quietly says okay, and pulls his shirt over his head to reveal a set of ugly, ugly scars.
He'd known there was history, but…
"Fuck you," Merle wheezes from behind him.
Rick doesn't let himself hesitate. "Step up there and grab hold," he says, and takes off his belt.
TBC. There are two more parts, and I'll post em one a day.
Let me know what you think!