"Yo' Merle.
Tolstoy or Dostoevsky?" Asked Sgt. Abraham Ford as he bent over, digging through his green backpack.
Merle looked up, his eyes previously having been trained on the ground as he sat in the cell where Daryl now lay silent and unconscious.
Carol was laying down, having been shoved in bed after Daryl was stabilized. (or as much so, as they could with the few medical items they hand.)
(Apparently, Ford was a bit of a squirrel, having stored away medical supplies and antibiotics in his vast backpack as he came across from them. Between Rick and Ford, they were able to piece what was left of Daryl back together. With the lack of xrays and modern medicine, only time would tell if he would live.)

"Tolstoy. Why?" He said, looking confused as he twitched his arm as more blood ran into the vial- ready to be given to Daryl.
All eyes were trained on the two, Glenn looking shocked and Rick mildly confused.

"Got a present for ya." Ford told him, coming to crouch next to his feet. He handed him the book.
"Milton's got himself a damn fine library. Found this, thought you'd want it. Picked up a few as well. Daryl's gonna be out for a while."

"It's in Russian." Came Merle's slightly incredulous tone.

"Yes sir." Nodded Ford as he leaned forward, hands busily retying Merle's hiking boots, tightening the laces as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"You remembered." muttered Merle, "How many years ago was that?"

"A good twenty, if I recall." He chuckled, switching boots.

"Wait, you speak Russian?" Rick asked.

Merle simply nodded, turning the book over in his hands as though it were a precious gem.

" Merle here got a letter from home, from a young miss who wasn't even legal-"

"Eff you man! She was nineteen, and you damn well know it!"

"-At the time…" The Sargent spoke, as if Merle hadn't even said anything, "She told him if he learned Russian, she'd marry him. Apparently, she always liked those weirdo comibastards.. So what did this Motherfucker do? He learned Russian."

"Watch your language." Michonne commented from where she sat, silent and near invisible against a wall.
The man tipped his head, as if saying he was sorry.

"Woulda done anythin' for her." Merle mumbled, flipping over the book as he nodded thanks to Ford as he stood up and cracked his back with several loud pops. "And the only mother I e'er fucked was yours, so shut up."

Ford just laughed whilst Michonne frowned.

"What happened to her?" Maggie asked, head tilting to the side.

"I killed her." Was Merle's short and snarky reply as he shut the book with a snap.

"JokilledJo." Muttered Daryl, his mouth opining only slightly.
Had the block not gone silent (and the walls not made out of the concrete) it would not have been heard.

"Shut up, Bro." Snapped Merle, his eyes closing.
"Jesus H. Christ. Got a damn compound fracture, busted pelvis and a crushed foot and ya can't keep your damn mouth shut. Ain't good for nothin' but nonsense and digging in other people's business are you?" There was a harsh sound from Daryl's mouth as a middle finger was twitched.
It was a chuckle.
But as quick as it came, it was gone as Daryl fell once again into oblivion.

Ford just laughed as the quieted boy looked up from Michonne's shoulder when he heard Daryl's voice.

"Kid might be concussed along with those abrasions on his face." Ford told the others, walking out of the cell to leave Merle with his brother. "Might wanta watch out for that."

"What do you mean?" asked Rick, his face older than before. He wiped his eyes with his palms, kneading at the balls.

"Daryl threw him." Was the answer.

This is my fic! my fic! so blfffft! I can do what ever I want.
-feels only mildly guilty for noncannon/very guilty for blasphemy)