A/N: In which I need someone to be missing Merle as badly as I do. R&R
Misery loves Company
.1.
She stands outside the prison unmoving unwavering and completely alone. Her blonde ponytail is caught in the wind whipping painfully against her neck and her blue eyes are still cast forward out over the land of the dead. The one person who is suppose to be here grieving if not with her- but grieving is not and she finds herself hating him for it. She can feel the resentment boiling in her gut and constricting around her broken heart, her canines dig violently at her bottom lip worrying it relentlessly as she steels herself not to cry.
After all, in his last moments, she knows he didnt cry. He didnt beg- that wasnt who Merle Dixon was.
X
She has this overwhelming calling to take it upon herself to leave the safety of the prison and find the governor. She strolls the prison yard at least once a day, her eyes always drifting out of the gate- she knows he's out. She wants nothing more to put a bullet in his chest and have him turn into one of those nasty monsters. She would kill him and restrain him to something so he would starve to death- as she's sure those things had to die somehow besides a good ole bash to the skull. A simple death just would not do for all the suffering he has caused her people.
For the suffering he had caused her.
Her hand absently drifts across her flat stomach before letting it fall to her side. The skin around her bottom lip is scarring as much as she chews on it. She doesnt bother acting any differently than she always had- she tends to Judith. She helps prepare meals, aids her father in recovering injuries and Carol in hemming clothes and doing laundry. She keeps herself busy but that does nothing to ease the ache that forms in her chest and the anger that flashes through her eyes every time she sees his younger brother.
They are on watch together, a gun over her shoulder and his crossbow slung over his. The tension is so thick in the air between them, even Daryl can do little to ignore it in such close corridors.
"Somethin' wrong with ya lil Greene?"
She let out a deep breath that sounded more of agitation than anything as her eyes turned to meet the younger and only surviving member of the Dixons.
"Ya even miss him?" she said and her voice comes out bitterly despite how she knows she's not suppose to let anyone know she had been involved with the older man. She looks away from him when the emotions flood to her eyes faster than her canines can dig into her bottom lip.
She knows Daryl Dixon is probably the only person Merle Dixon loved more than her.
"It even bother you to put a knife in your own brothers skull?" Her voice is so quiet, she doesnt think he can hear her. He shifts uncomfortably beside her- and she wonders if its guilt that propels him to move. She expects some sort of angry retort from him, some bit of fire- in fact- she only realizes shes hoping for it when he doesnt give it to her. She's searching for a flame of what was once hers only to be hit with the realization that Daryl Dixon didnt even closely resemble his brother.
"You knew my brother didnt you?" His voice sounds more embarrassed than anything and he doesnt bother to elaborate any more than that.
She has half the mind to slap him and deny it, prolong his embarrassment before she couldnt hide the truth anymore. But what did it matter how she knew Merle? That two months had been all it taken, all it had taken to make her more than what she was.
"Ya. I knew him." She shook her head, her eyes wandering over the field of the dead. "You're probably the only person your brother loved more than me." She pauses than, her hands clasping the railing as if to steady herself. "Im okay with that now."
"Im sorry." Daryl says awkwardly, a hand in his mouth desperately worrying a thumbnail.
"For what? My loss?" she smiles towards him and she cant believe how much resentment she feels towards him- though she knows this is the last thing Merle would have wanted for her to feel. "Should be your loss more than mine- hell, as far as everyone knows it is only your loss. Thats the way I want to stay."
Daryl nods and the question that weighs heavily on his mind he refuses to ask. He's not ready to hear the answer. He's not ready to deal with the fact that Merle sought out a seventeen year old girl to take refuge in her body. His brother was a lot of things, but he wasnt a rapist and a pedophile was such a harsh word that he didnt want to associate that with him either. A year wasnt the same as a year anymore though he doubted Hershel would see it that way.
"Is there anything you want to know bout Merle?" Daryl said finally, almost hopefully even- and she noticed that. Maybe she had been to quick to judge the youngest dixon amongst her own greif.
"Whatever youd like to tell me." she says quietly- she knows more than he thinks she does. But theres no reason to divulge into that now. There's no reason to open up naked secrets.
"My brother. Hes the one who taught me how to hunt. Use a crossbow." He paused for a moment before off handily adding. "Taught me how to play baseball. Always beat my ass in arm wrestling."
She felt a smile creeping over her face for the first time in what felt like a lifetime as she listened to Daryl tell her stories about Merles first kill, how Merle had this greyhound he called Bullet. Before they know it the suns coming up and Daryl cant remember talking to anyone in the prison that much. He cant remember talking to anyone that much in his life.
"You were his everything ya know." Beth said quietly. "His last words to me were about you."
She doesnt have the heart to relive their last night together- and he doesnt have the heart to ask. She leaves before the sun makes it over the treetops, she pauses, lingering on the stares for just a moment before calling back to him.
"Daryl?"
"ya?" He says quietly, not bothering to move into her line of vision.
"Ya might wanna hold Carol close." She pauses. "Cause ya wont always have the opportunity too."
X
Shes officially sick. She can smell spam in the air, floating around the prison and its all she can do not to dry heave or gag in front of anyone. Her canines dig painfully into her lowerlip until blood rolls down her chin and she excuses herself from kitchen duty.
She finds herself at the fense, where she seems to migrate to- as if he'll just show up here one day- dead or alive. He never does- Daryl made sure of that. Still, the urge to cry is becoming incredibly hard to ignore. The dead thrash around her clinging to the fence and all she can hear is the metal clanging around her.
And than all sound shuts off.
Carl finds her and hes surprised to see her, yelling at them, mocking them. Not just making noise to draw them close but literally taunting them and enjoying it. Its a side of Beth he cant recall having seen before and while he doesnt feel it necessary to join in- he feels compelled to watch.
"Come ya fuckers!" she screams throwing her hands up in the air, slamming her hands against the fense as long dead fingers wrap around the wire and try to reach her.
"Ya want some of this!" She picks up a large shank weapon they made from the prison ground and begins spearing them, bodies dropping with every angry thrust. She screams each time she impels them and her forehead is doused in sweat before to much longer.
She's not sure how long she goes at it before her father puts an unbalanced hand on her shoulder. She turns around eyes a blaze and looks into his tired understanding familiar face, and she throws herself on him- the two of them fall to the ground, crutches flying.
Her tears stain his shirt as he runs a finger through her blonde locks and he whispers words of comfort to her before she responds in a choked voice loud enough for any surrounding bodies to hear.
"Its not."
X
They speculate- her father and Rick what went wrong with her before Carl apparently took it upon himself to alert the others.
Heat Stroke, Rick had offered
Mental Break, her sister had whispered, her mind clearly set on that night after the barn where her mother had attempted to kill her.
Whatever reason they had tacked onto it hadnt made its way to her yet. She had yet to hear her fathers opinion and she worried that sooner rather than later he would figure out the one thing she desperately wasnt ready to share with or anyone else.
She does her best to act as normal as possible- but she cant find herself able to do that. She doesnt remember how to do that. She cant bring a song to her voice because his voice lingers hot in her ear.
"Ya make beautiful sounds ya know that girlie? Voice of a god damn angel."
She finds it increasingly harder to just drag herself out of bed, keep down her breakfast, and tolerate being in the proximity of any spam like product. She finds it harder and harder to keep him out of her mind- it was easy to avoid him in the mist of others when she could find his face amongst them. It seems with his face no longer with them – the secret she had managed to keep for a matter of months would expose itself in a matter of days.
Daryl grabs her by the arm one day and throws her into a cell closer to what Rick believes to be the Wardens office. His breathing is ragged and she sits on a bunk and waits patiently for him to get out whatever he thinks he has to say. He paces with a kind of anger she hadnt witnessed in a while and as sadistic as it sounds she somehow found peace in his agitation instead of angst.
He gets close to her then invading her personal space in a way she hasnt seen him do to anyone before. His hand grips the mattress on either side of her and he all but growls at her his accusation.
"Youre carrying his child arent you?
The weight of having had someone speak the words aloud, hits her harder than she expected her calm demeanor completely diminished tears threaten to spill from eyes and they do and she clasps her hand over her mouth to suppress the wail that is making its way up her throat.
He pulls back from her reaction as if he's slapped her, and resumes his pacing hands pulling at his hair.
'fuck, fuck fuck, fuck' he cusses under his breath up until he's yelling it. His hand connects with the prison wall and he stares at her angrily with the same resentment she had showed him not so long ago.
"Ya kno' wat this means dontcha? Ya think we cant take care of anotha' one? We got fuckin Judith! Member wha' happened to Lori?! Or did that just slip ya mind when he slipped his dick inta ya? Jesus Christ ya were his fuckin incubator werent ya?"
The last sentence makes her go rigid with anger and the look she shoot him in the enclosed cell throws a wet blanket over his anger immediately. He doesnt flinch or try to stop the hand that smacks him hard across the face- nor does he stop her as she exits the cell with a look he's glad he didnt catch.
Daryl takes a seat on the cot and puts his head into his hand.
Leave it to his brother to carry on the Dixon name before he goes off on a suicide mission.
He grits his teeth together and pushes off the bed to take care of the situation before it gets any worse.
A/N: The ideas been in my head a while- its not coming out quite right- but i figure I can always try again til I get it right. There will two more chapters following this one. As always, please read and review.
