AN -
My thanks once again to precious-passenger for redesigning my avatar to this story. Thank you sooooo much!
Also, Merle, in this story, was never villainous in Atlanta. Other than that, the rest of his character is pretty much the same as the TV show.
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Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can bake you dry
Snow can burn your eyes, but only people make you cry
Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to
Which with any luck will never come true
I was born under a wandrin' star
I was born under a wandrin' star
Andrea and Merle, with smiles on their faces, were belting out more and more of the Lee Marvin classic. Nighttime campfire intact and bellies-semi-full, they were having the time of their lives. They may have been just a hair too loud in this post-apocalyptic environment. But neither cared. They needed this time. They needed this…happiness.
When the lyric preceding this mentioned 'pack mules', Andrea pointed to The Boys, which got a raucous laugh out of Merle Dixon. But when she looked to Michonne to appreciate the joke, she was greeted with the coldest of warrior stares.
She ignored Michonne and returned to the song. Merle seemed to be having the time of his life. Andrea did too. Michonne did not. And it all began (or started over, with the unexpected reunion), all the way back at the farmhouse…
.
…"What in sam hell are you doin' here?"
Andrea was slowly coming to. Merle was watching her and getting used to being at sword-point, surprised he was even allowed near the blonde woman.
"I… We were…" Andrea stammered. She looked to Michonne for verbal help, but the former fencing champion and fierce warrior was glaring daggers at the redneck she didn't know at all. Her defenses were up as she stared in silence at him.
"Here," he said, reaching down for Andrea, "let me help-"
But suddenly, Michonne intervened and helped Andrea to her feet. In fact, Michonne effectively stood between the two, her back to Merle. The old boy simply took it in stride, waiting for the warrior to protect her partner. Being a former Special Forces member, he couldn't help but appreciate it. But his defenses were secretly up.
"Let's…let's get out of here." Michonne quickly and quietly said.
"OK." Andrea weakly said.
And just as Andrea and Michonne headed out of the room, a water bottle was suddenly thrust into Andrea's face. Gratefully, she took it and took two enormous swigs, relishing the lukewarm water going down her smooth throat. Merle watched it all, keenly aware that when he reached for the water bottle, he almost knocked the duct tape out of his satchel.
"Thanks." Andrea muttered.
"Don't push yourself." Michonne uselessly said. With a cold glance towards him, Michonne guided a recovering Andrea out of the room.
The girls walked down the steps side-by-side. Merle used his vantage point behind them to inspect their asses. Andrea's pert little butt was just to his liking, but Michonne's was full and round. He preferred Andrea's ass but Michonne's would do nicely. Merle liked the way they moved when they descended step by step by step…
By the time they reached the first floor, Michonne suddenly whirled her head around and discovered where Merle's eyes were. He suddenly looked apologetic and even smiled a little. Michonne was not fooled. She ferociously glared at him, sending an array of violent messages. Well, he got the message. He looked down in submission, hardly being submissive at all. Michonne didn't care. And Andrea didn't notice a thing.
Michonne guided the almost-recovered blonde to the living room and let her plop on the dust-exploding couch.
"Wait here." Michonne gently ordered.
"OK." Andrea responded. By this time, Merle came into the living room.
"That was some fancy killin' up there, blondie."
Andrea smiled, but Michonne suddenly unleashed her girl and put it to Merle's throat!
"Michonne!" Andrea loudly whispered, the loudest volume she could muster.
"Easy now," Merle cooed, raising his hands in a meek surrender. "Easy…"
Michonne simply glared at him. Eye-to-eye, they stared at each other, one protectively glaring and the other trying to make peace. Or, as much peace as one could muster.
"Michonne! Please!" Andrea desperately said, almost regaining her full strength. "I know him."
And still, Michonne did not say a word to Merle. Coldly and very slowly, she removed the sword from his Adam's apple, diverting the pointed end to Merle's chest. Raw seconds passed. Then, Michonne slowly, carefully backed up and gradually lowered her sword. Andrea and Merle quietly exhaled.
So, Merle, the ever-present charmer, tried to diffuse the situation by resuming his praise. "I ain't never seen a girl fight as good as you!" Andrea smiled. But then, he shifted his eyes towards the swordfighter and then back to the blonde. "Until her."
"Yeah," Andrea began, now fully-recovered. "Michonne's amazing." Andrea looked at her only to see Michonne still fiercely glaring at him. But then, Michonne looked at her and her features softened, only to go back in full force when she glowered at Merle.
"What happened to everybody?" Merle asked Andrea.
Andrea sighed. "Well, we left Atlanta."
"Good move there." Merle said, sitting down on a nearby yellow and careworn recliner. The chair unexpectedly rocked a little and his feet came off the floor momentarily. Stunned, he burst out in laughter. Michonne's eyes widened in surprise as did Andrea's.
"Shhh!" Andrea admonished. "Walkers can hear-"
"There ain't no walkers around!" Merle exclaimed. And then, he softened his voice to an almost velvety sound. "At least, not anymore…thanks to you."
Andrea dipped her head a little at the praise as Michonne's eyes narrowed even further.
"Go on." He encouraged.
"Oh. Yes." Andrea said, sitting up a little, crossing her legs. Merle watched her long, model-like legs do this. "Well, after we left Atlanta, we wound up on a farm." And then, her eyes met his. "Daryl stepped up, you know."
"My baby brother did?"
"Yeah." Andrea responded, with a touch of pride. "He really became a valuable member of the group."
Merle looked away in thought. Michonne sat in silence in an old wooden rocker. Andrea continued.
"Later, a herd came through. It was…" Andrea didn't finish. She didn't have to.
Herds are a terrifying prospect. For some reason, a few walkers can turn into a small group. Then that can turn into a large group. Then that can turn into a parade. And then, that turns into a herd – potentially tens of thousands, perhaps more, rotting, and cannibalistic creatures marching in one direction. There was absolutely no defense against a herd.
"You don't have to finish that about a herd." Merle stoically said. "I come across one myself. Never ran so far and so fast in my life!"
"I," Andrea said, as if she were never interrupted, "got separated from the group. I was on the run for a day. That's when I met Michonne."
She looked at her and with a proud smile, she added. "She saved my life."
Merle looked at Michonne with a newfound appreciation. "Well, thanks for saving blondie here!"
Michonne just coldly stared. Andrea was starting to get annoyed by her. But Merle simply took Michonne's reaction in stride.
"By the way," Andrea said, diffusing a suddenly tense situation, "we should probably keep an eye out for walkers."
"Way out here?" Merle asked. "In the sticks?"
"The farm was out 'in the sticks' and a herd came through."
Merle considered this and nodded. "Well, have at it…Meechonne!" He obnoxiously laughed and Andrea dropped her head with an embarrassed smile on her face.
Michonne suddenly stood up!
Andrea and Merle froze, staring up at the fierce former fencing champion. She glowered down at Merle as he merely looked up at her. Andrea's breathing became erratic, frustrated and maybe even a little scared of her female counterpart.
Seconds passed. And still, nothing happened. A gentle breeze flowed through the room, not making any difference to the tense situation whatsoever. Andrea decided to take action.
"Why don't we," Andrea calmly began, "see what's here? We can divide up everything equally."
"We got here first." Michonne whispered.
"She speaks!" Merle exclaimed with a little laugh. Michonne went silent again as Andrea shook her head.
"Come on, guys." Andrea said, standing up. "Let's see what's here."
.
The farmhouse wasn't as much of a goldmine as they'd hoped. They found about four cans of food, a jug of clear water, and a half-empty first aid kit. Merle cut down some wooden furniture for firewood, often brought to him silently by Michonne. Some time passed and they briefly considered staying there for as long as they could. But they quickly diffused that idea once they realized the pantry and cellar doors were broken and completely exposed. A walker could quietly come in during the night and they wouldn't know until it was too late.
Merle was busy in the backyard breaking up a chair. Andrea was making lunch for everybody, her heat sickness firmly in the past. Michonne stood at the sink, staring at the former Special Forces officer. He had no idea daggers were being placed in the back of his head by a former fencing national champion.
Andrea came nearby to grab a dishcloth.
"I don't trust him." Michonne quietly said.
"That's obvious." Andrea dryly said. "Why not?"
"There's…" Michonne trailed off, shaking her head. But Andrea decided to press for more information, staring at her. "There's something wrong with him."
Andrea chuckled. "He may be…rough around the edges." Then, Andrea's voice softened. "He knows what it feels like to be left behind. He got separated from us in Atlanta when we were doing a supply run."
Michonne said nothing.
"I'm sure he's just…worried." Andrea finished.
"Worried?"
"Remember? The part I said about his baby brother, Daryl?"
Michonne slowly turned to her. "All of us have lost people." And then, she turned back to him and coldly said, "He's no different."
"OK," Andrea began, clearly annoyed. "What is your real problem with him?"
"Like I said," Michonne quietly began, "I don't trust him."
"Why?" Andrea rested a hand on the countertop, just a foot away from her friend.
"He's…lyin' about somethin'."
"Lying?"
"Yeah. Lying."
Andrea sighed. "Well, if he is, he may have good reason."
Michonne turned her whole body towards Andrea in betrayed shock. "You're defendin' him."
"Of course I am!" Andrea exclaimed, slamming her hand on the countertop in frustration. "He saved people's lives in Atlanta! It was…awful there…remember?"
For the first time in quite a long time, Michonne looked away in sadness. "Yeah…I remember."
Andrea softened her features. "What happened?"
"What?"
"What happened to you…in Atlanta?"
Michonne surprised Andrea by taking a threatening step towards her. "You know enough."
"I'm sorry, but no I don't!" Andrea said, wide-eyed. "Look, I'm sorry. But you know everything about me and I know very little-"
"You know enough." Michonne angrily repeated. Then, she took a step and bolted out of the house, the front screen door slamming. Andrea sighed and turned towards the man cutting wood. He was nearly done, wiping some sweat from his brow. Andrea briefly considered bringing him some water, but didn't want to send the wrong message. She realized he was flirting with her and she was not interested.
However, heat sickness is not what's needed for anyone. So, she finally grabbed a bottle of clear, room-temperature water and walked outside towards him. As soon as she took a step out, the heat hit her. Hard. She knew she was making the right decision for the group. Not for her or Michonne or even Merle. Andrea had grown accustomed to making selfless decisions and surviving as a group is a must in this harsh world. Trust too.
"Here." Andrea simply said, handing him the bottle.
Merle came to a full stop, eyed the bottle, and a boyish, proud smile lit up his face. "Why, thank you blondie!"
Andrea smirked. "Look, Merle…"
"Huh?" He asked, taking a deep drink from the bottle.
"I need a favor, now that you're…back."
He eyed her for a second, screwing the cap back on the half-drunk bottle. "OK. What?"
"Don't call me 'blondie'."
Merle chuckled in surprise. "Well, that's what you are!" And then he laughed. But Andrea was far from amused.
"I know what you're doin'." Andrea said, arms now crossed defensively.
"Oh?" He set the bottle down and grabbed the hatchet again. "And what's that?"
"You're flirting."
"It's," Merle chopped up a chair leg. The leg exploded into splinters. "what I do."
"You don't have to."
Annoyed with the splintered wood, Merle placed a new chair part on the spit and chopped it again, this time successfully.
"Alright."
Andrea blinked, stunned. Then, she collected herself and said, "Thanks."
She turned and got a few steps away before she heard, "Your girlfriend jealous?"
She came to a stop. "What?"
"Meechonne don't like me." Merle simply said. "She hates me."
"She doesn't hate you." Andrea quickly said. "She's just…protective."
"Oh, that she is alright." Merle responded, chopping more wood. "That…" He stood erect and shamelessly looked Andrea's body up and down. "she is."
Something resembling a cold shiver went through Andrea's body in the Georgia summer heat. Without another word, she turned and went back towards the house.
"Lunch will be ready soon." Andrea called over her shoulder.
"Thanks blon-…" Andrea flashed him a look. "Thanks, Ms. Andrea…?"
Andrea smiled.
"Hey, what's your last name, Andrea?"
Silently, she turned and entered the kitchen. Merle laughed…
.
…"You should join in on the singin', Meechonne."
Smile firmly on Andrea's face, she looked up behind her to see Michonne standing nearby, steadfast glare on her face. The Boys were behind her with their dead eyes and dead expressions, chained to the tree.
"If it makes you feel better," Merle began as he was digging through his satchel. Michonne's hand automatically went to Her Girl. "You could have some of this?"
He held out the beef jerky to her. Andrea watched Michonne's internal struggle.
"Have some!" Andrea exclaimed, waving a piece of beef jerky from Merle in her hand. "It's really good."
Merle's smile broadened. "Please, Meechonne. You'll-"
"It's Michonne." She coldly said, as she walked over and took the jerky. Then, she mumbled, "Thanks."
"You're very welcome, Michonne."
The three sat there and Andrea and Merle wanted the reunion party atmosphere to continue. Andrea was humming a song in her mind, her head bee-bopping right and left. Merle took a swig of water as Andrea and Michonne took two more bites of the jerky. He watched them, a satisfied smile on his face.
"I think you'll like this beef jerky." Merle said, taking yet another drink of water, "I made it myself."
"I really like it!" Andrea said with a smile on her face. "Michonne?"
She inspected her jerky, joined Andrea in a third bite, and sat down beside her. "Yeah. It's good."
Merle laughed out loud. "Don't worry! It won't hurt ya'!"
That's when Andrea fell to the right side, unconscious.
Michonne's eyes widened as she looked at her, concern written all over her face. And then, a mixture of dread and ferocious anger filled her face. She looked over at Merle, wide-eyed and furious. He just smiled at her as she too fell unconscious, almost on top of Andrea.
"It'll just knock you out for a few hours."
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