Hey! Sorry, I've been out for a little while. Had some family issues, as well as my computer going all stupid on me. But anyways, here I am again!

This story is in the same 'verse as "They Call Him Pookie". I may decide to post a one-shot based on every season four episode in this 'verse, but we'll see how the inspiration hits me.

I do not own The Walking Dead. Enjoy my edition of "Infected".

My Kitten

Michonne had finally handed Judith off to Beth again. The darker skinned survivor found herself having to scrub at her eyes vigorously, as her tears just kept on coming. Everyone knew next to nothing about her, and she wanted it to stay that way. It was much easier for her to keep her past to herself, if she pretended that everyone was alright.

There wasn't a day on this Earth that she didn't miss her two daughters, but she refused to dwell on it. However, when she held Judith in her arms for the first time, she finally lost it. She envisioned herself holding onto her children when they were both infants. They had the happiest gurgles, which always brought a smile to Michonne's face. And now that they were gone, all she had was her memories. The children around the prison were one thing, but Judith's cries were a whole other story, as both of her daughters were small when they died during the apocalypse.

Merle poked his head around the corner to his girlfriend's cell, seeing the glistening on her face. He had been coming to check on her, after her fall early that morning. Everything had seemingly calmed down from the attack on the D-Block, but the redneck, along with his younger brother had both gone down to that section when the gunshots began firing.

All was well this morning. Michonne let her boyfriend scoop her up and place her on Flame's saddle. She was going out on another one of her searches to look for the Governor. Merle didn't really want her going anywhere. Something just wasn't feeling right. It was a peaceful morning. Too peaceful, if you asked him.

"I can't believe I'm lettin' yer ass go out on another harebrain adventure, woman," Merle grumbled against Michonne's lips.

"You sound genuinely concerned, Merle," Michonne smiled down at him, pushing the elder Dixon away slightly.

"Well, maybe if I didn't like ya so damn much, maybe it wouldn't," the redneck rubbed his girlfriend's inner thigh, it being the closest way he could be in physical contact with his Nubian Queen.

"MerleyBear, are you being sweet for a reason?" the katana-wielding survivor asked, quirking an eyebrow. That nickname still stuck, just to get on Merle's nerves. As a matter of fact, though, he was actually starting to like it.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, girl? I ain't sweet!" Merle fought back, a shit-eating grin coming across his face. His hand stilled on her thigh, and his eyes never left hers.

"You do have a soft side, whether you want to admit it or not," Michonne told him, putting her hand over his. "And I'm actually quite fond of it."

"Is that so?" the redneck grinned. He leaned closer to his woman, lacing his fingers through hers.

"You're like a kitten," Michonne laughed, white teeth contrasting against her dark skin. Her boyfriend could not believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Did she just compare me to a cat? Merle asked himself. She wasn't finished however, so he kept his objective mouth shut.

"You're loud and feral for the most part," Michonne paused, rubbing the back of his good hand affectionately. "But you have a rare side that you only show to me. Daryl, too." That was the side that she fell in love with, above all. "You're very loyal to those close to you. And you have those moments where you can be very sweet, like a few minutes ago."

"Well o' course I care about ya, woman. I let ya give me these crazy ass nicknames, don't I?" the redneck gave his girlfriend a quick peck on the lips. "Now, go on before I change my mind."

"Whatever, Kitten," the dark-skinned woman teased, shooing her boyfriend away from her. "I'll be back. Maybe I'll even share my stale MnM's with you this time…"

Merle watched his girlfriend as she tugged on Flame's reins and took him off on a steady gallop. He chuckled at her retreating form; damn, was she something else. He watched Carl as he opened the gate for her, then closing it right behind her. The redneck didn't dare to move until he couldn't see her anymore.

And that was when the gunshots were fired. Merle did a double take towards where the sounds were coming from. He heard shouting coming from one of the further cellblocks and made to follow the other weapon- bearing survivors, until he heard the sound of his woman struggling. He turned around to see her caught in between the entrance gate, fighting off approaching walkers. Without any hesitation, he came running, stabbing any walkers in his way.

"Michonne!" Merle took in a sharp breath when he saw her fall. He was right there, taking out the remaining walkers with his bayonet. The redneck took her under his good arm, helping her to keep her weight off of her injured foot.

"Are you a'right?" he asked her, leading her back towards the prison. When she just scrunched her face, he shook her a little and tried again, "woman answer me! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Michonne lied, trying to get out from under her boyfriend's arm."Just go see what's going on in the other cell block." He looked at her, amazed that she would even suggest that he leave her behind.

"I ain't leavin' yer ass. You can barely even stand on your own right now," Merle told her. He was so focused on his woman that he barely heard Maggie coming up from behind them.

"Go on, Merle. We'll make sure she gets to her cell safe and sound," Maggie began, her tone still a bit frosty. He spun around to face her, wondering if leaving Michonne would really be an option right now. Then he remembered. His little brother would be risking his life. That was just like Daryl, and he knew that.

The redneck kissed Michonne as hard as he could muster before handing her over to Maggie. "Ya take good care o' my woman while I'm gone, would ya?"

Michonne exhaled heavily as she sat up higher in bed. When she saw Merle come in, she found herself relaxing some. It wasn't much, given what had happened, but it was some alleviation.

"Hey," he rasped, pulling a chair up to sit beside her bed. "How ya feelin', darlin'?"

"You mean aside from my foot throbbin', and being worried about what's going on here?" Michonne shook her head, getting a sarcastic jab in, "I'm just peachy."

"We'll get through it," Merle sighed, relaxing back in his chair. "Docs say we don't need to be in too close a proximity until we're sure about what the hell kinda virus this is."

"So, why are you here?" Michonne whispered. She didn't mean to be this way, but she just wanted to be left alone.

"Damn, woman. Can't I just come to check on you? It was a close call back there in the cellblock. Thought—" he struggled for the right words, "thought that I'd never see you again."

The dark-skinned survivor sighed, a smile playing on her lips. "See? Now that's my kitten," she reached out to touch his face, only to have to take her hand back when she remembered the isolation rule. "How long?"

"A few days, maybe? I'll still be around to check on you just… can't exactly touch ya, I guess…" Merle glanced down at his good hand, which was clutching at his own knee. He looked up to meet with his girlfriend's dark eyes, realizing something else was really off. "Ya sure that yer alright?"

"I'm sure, Merle. Just exhausted," she told him, shrugging nonchalantly.

Merle sighed. He wished that there was something that he could do. Hold her hand, or hold her by the waist when she finally chose to drift off. "Okay. I'll let ya get some rest," he got up and proceeded to walk away. But what had stopped him, was something foreign to him. He needed to tell her how he felt, and he needed to tell her now before things could get any worse.

"Michonne," the redneck added, gaining his girlfriend's eyes on his. He felt his throat go dry, but he just had to say it. "I love you." Merle hadn't been sure if that was really how he felt or not, until earlier this morning. This woman could say whatever she wanted to, and he would still feel the same about her. She was a real woman. Merle never had to worry about her always depending on him. He would shower her with affection, but only because she didn't expect it. Michonne was more than capable of taking care of herself, but he didn't care. That was his woman, and she deserved the world.

"I—" Michonne was caught off guard by that revelation, and she didn't respond right away. When she went to tell him that she loved him too, however, he was already heading out of the dark-skinned survivor's cell.

And that's where I'll end this story. What did ya'll think?