A/N: This is my first foray into TWD though I am a huge fan. This is Merle/OC other characters will come along later and it will be slightly AU.
Marian was surprised she'd survived as long as she had, she'd woken up and fallen asleep with the expectation that each day would be her last. She certainly hadn't expected to come across a large man with one hand. She studied him for a moment before she realized that he was indeed still alive, and his arm was seriously infected. She'd spent the last few days holed up in a clinic off the beaten path. She'd only left to replenish her food supply.
She made her way carefully over to him, and quietly said. "Hey, do you need some help?"
Merle opened his eyes at the sound of a voice. It wasn't a voice he was expecting; it was a sultry, female voice. "Ya should just leave me be."
Marian just couldn't leave a living man to rot, "Come on, I can help you fix that arm up. I got a safe place, and some supplies."
Merle looked her over carefully, she wasn't a beauty, but she wasn't bad – long red hair, and bright blue eyes, though she was a little on the heavy side. "Why ya willin to help a stranger? Don't you know I could hurt you woman?"
Marian tilted her head and looked over his large sweaty frame. "Yeah, you probably could, but for some reason I don't think you will. Come on big guy; let's get something for that arm before you become one of these zombies, alright?"
With a deep sigh, Merle looked her over again, "Why the fuck not, thing hurts like a fuckin bitch." He tried to stand and fell against the wall. The woman walked over to him and wrapped his good arm around her neck, when she pulled him up she took a moment to steady him and started walking down the alley he'd been sitting in. He couldn't believe he'd run out of fucking gas in the fucking suburbs. He'd tried to find another car, but his arm had started hurting so bad he'd apparently passed out.
The way the woman snuck around while practically carrying him impressed Merle though he'd never say that. He let her get him to the place she'd been staying. Once there he felt what little strength he had drain right out of him.
This son-of-a-bitch is heavy, Marian thought to herself. She could see he was trying to help, but his struggling breath and how heavily he leaned on her told her that he didn't have a lot left. She wasn't even sure how she'd gotten all the way to the clinic, but she had made it even though he'd passed out practically on the doorstep.
With much struggling Marian got him into a bed, dug around for a bit to gather supplies. She knew there were liquid antibiotics in one of the clinic rooms. She got an IV hung for him and thought about trying to get his clothes off to clean him up. Instead she decided to work on the man's stump. It looked like a seriously infected burn, and apparently the dead smell in the alley had covered the stench of the infection. She tried not to gag as she cleaned it and gave deep thanks that the man stayed asleep because she knew her abrading would make him scream.
After she finished cleaning and dressing the wound she settled into a corner with her gun and wished she had someone to talk to.
The next few days were strange, the man went in and out of consciousness often screaming or hollering for people named Daryl or Darlene; Marian wasn't sure if it was one or two people. She had taken his shirt off and gotten him somewhat clean, but the sheer number of scars on him made her wonder about taking him in. What in the hell was she thinking anyway.
Four days after she'd brought him into the clinic Merle woke up. It was early evening and he could see the sky from the open window tops. The bottom of the windows were boarded up, the room looked like some kind of hospital or clinic. He tried to remember how he'd gotten there when Marian walked back into the room with two bags full of shit.
"You're awake." And with that statement she walked over and held up a water bottle to his lips. Merle hadn't realized how thirsty he was until the cool liquid drained down his throat. She took it away before he'd had his fill. "Slowly, you haven't had anything much in your system in I don't know how long, but you gotta go easy or you'll get sick."
Merle leaned back and looked the woman up and down. "So sugar, you got me outta my shirt, how bout helping me with these pants too." He asked with a smirk.
He never expected the throaty, damn sexy laugh that came out of her, "Oh honey, if I started on you you'd pass out before it got good for either of us. I think perhaps you ought to wait till you are a little more healed before you start getting randy."
Laying his head back, he knew he was still not right. He hurt all over, not just the fucking stump on the end of his arm. But he wasn't dead, and that was something. Turning his head to watch the woman he cleared his throat, "so ah… I'm Merle, how long I been here?"
Marian turned towards him, leaning back against the counter where she had a small hibachi to cook on, "I'm Marian, and you've been in my care for a little over 4 days. You've been pretty much out of it too, did a lot of shouting when your fever went up, but the antibiotics seem to have done their job. Your fever broke last night. Now, I'm heating some broth up for you, and you aren't going to fuss at me about drinking it. I don't have any more nutrient rich saline to keep you from wasting away on me." With that she turned her back to him again.
Merle chuckled at her tone, but understood it would best for his survival if he just cooperated so he nodded.
That evening, as Marian curled up in the same corner she'd occupied since bringing Merle into her space; she was more exhausted then she'd been when Merle was unconscious. He was a giant pain in the ass: disrespectful bordering on mean, uncouth, and he never stopped talking. At least she found out that Daryl was his brother.
She'd spent weeks in silence and had grown used to it. She thanked the gods the pain killers had finally put him to sleep. She'd been told she was fat and stupid even as he thanked her for the broth, a broth she'd found and hoped to eat herself. Taking a deep breath she decided that as soon as he was healed he could get the fuck out of her life.
That, however, was simply not how things played out. As he healed he got antsy and wanted out. Marian told him the door wasn't locked but had to catch him the first day as he got dizzy three steps away from the bed. He did not take well to her catching him. After that he got even ruder; Marian thought he might be getting another infection, but it turned out he was detoxing or something. The next three weeks were the worst of her entire life. He called her every name in the book, what bothered her most was probably calling her a fat whore, but she got over that like everything else, by ignoring the pain it caused.
Marian knew she wasn't beautiful. She was once considered pleasantly plump she had curves in all the right places, but now it felt like any additional weight was a death sentence so she gave her patient most of the food keeping only enough to survive and hoped that maybe the zombie apocalypse would finally help her lose weight. She hoped her glasses survived forever though; she would be blind if something happened to them.
For some reason she simply could not let Merle Dixon die. So no matter how mean he was to her she gave him broth and what little food he could keep down, dressed his stump, and cooled him with wet rags when the fevers went up, covered him when he shook and even started sleeping next to him to keep him warm.
The first time she crawled into the bed with him he was nearly delirious and shivering so bad he was shaking the bed, he had tears streaming down his face and was begging for something. Marian couldn't stand it and crawled on to the bed, lay down with him and let him curl himself around her. The next day was better, but he only slept when she was lying next to him.
Merle woke up to his head on something soft, he thought about it and realized he was curled around Marian. He'd never been with a girl that had real meat on her bones, and Merle realized he kinda liked it – not that he'd ever tell her that. But she was soft and her hands were like fucking miracles. She'd soothed the burning fires from his withdrawal, and his nightmares. He thought he might have even hit her, but here she was calming him again.
He lay there taking account of his body. His arm and… stump didn't feel like he should cut more off anymore, and while he felt kinda shaky he realized he'd come through the other side. He'd never fully detoxed before, he'd come close, but had always failed in the past. He moved back enough to look at the woman next to him. Even in her sleep she looked exhausted. The last few weeks were been a blur to him, but she was always there, always taking whatever shit he dished out and making him feel better. Now he felt like shit, how in holy hell was he supposed to thank her. He had no fucking idea.
He slowly pulled himself up and started poking around the small room they'd been holed up in. From the looks of it, they were getting pretty low on everything. He walked over to the windows and looked through a crack, yep it was still the fucking outskirts of Atlanta, and it was still fuckin crawling with geeks.
Marian awoke about an hour later to the smell of coffee. She sat up quickly confused, where was Merle? Who was making coffee? She turned to the small table and started searching for her glasses when a gruff, but coherent voice asked, "Want me to pour you summa this here coffee?" She nodded but didn't answer till she discovered her glasses on the floor by the table. She cleaned them carefully, putting them on and running her fingers through her unruly long hair.
When Marian turned she was surprised, Merle looked a little worse for wear, but better than he ever had. She'd seen his scars, and his hard, sexy, she had to admit to herself, body, but she'd never seen his eyes alight with any kind of clear head. She smiled as he handed her a full cup of coffee. She sat back on the bed and watched him pour himself what must have been his second cup.
Merle sat down in one of the two office chairs in the room. He looked up at the red-head who had saved his ass twice now. "I don't know… I… uh… "
Marian chuckled, "You are welcome for whatever it is Merle."
His head shot up and he stared at her, how the fuck did she know what he was gonna say? "I guess you'll want me to get outta your hair here sometime soon now that I ain't some kinda danger."
Marian shook her head and set her coffee cup down, "Honey, I suspect you'll always be a danger."
He tilted his head, took another sip of coffee, and said, "well alright then. Looks like you're getting kinda low on everything."
She interrupted, "Yeah, there was this hard-headed redneck needed caring for. Haven't had much time for shopping." She ended her comment by settling into an indian style position on the bed and finished her coffee.
The two continued to be awkward around each other for the rest of the morning, but Merle finally fell asleep, after she badgered him into admitting that he wasn't 100% yet. For some reason the idea of this man leaving left Marian cold inside. This was stupid she knew nothing about him besides his foul mouth, his nightmares, and his pain. Somehow it was enough to catch her and tie her to him.
A few hours later Merle woke up to the sound of humming and the smell of something like chicken soup. He pulled himself into a sitting position and ran the fingers of his good hand through his hair. He found himself staring at her ass and hips; it was a fine looking ass, and well those hips were the kind his grand-dad had called baby carrying hips. What the fuck, he was Merle fucking Dixon and here he was thinking about hips and ass of a fat chick when the world was ending. What the hell had gotten into him?
Review Please? I'm a little nervous about this so let me know if i should continue...
