Hi y'all, here it is at last, chapter six, I hope you enjoy. Thanks to everyone that reviewed and gave me ideas (even those who didn't know that you gave me ideas!), and many thanks to all those other writers who continue to write AU Merle fics.
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own The Walking Dead because if I did MERLE WOULD STILL BE FUCKING ALIVE!
To AMC: "and the horse you rode in on."
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTW DTWD
DAY SIX
The early morning chill had not yet burned off, and Merle was struggling with dressing an armadillo when Daryl came out of the prison to join him in the yard. Merle had been on early morning watch, and had gone straight from that out to check the snares they'd set before dusk the previous day at a rabbit warren they'd found over an hour's journey from the prison. It had still been dark and he'd come across the armadillo feeding amongst some soft ground. It had been easy enough to dispatch, and there'd been two rabbits in the snares; not a bad haul.
He'd re-set the snares, and some others which had been triggered but were empty, hoping that when the bunnies came out at dawn for their morning feed, some more would stumble into the traps laid along their paths.
By the time Daryl joined him, the two rabbits were skinned and jointed, ready for Carol to soak in saltwater before cooking them up into a stew. The 'dillo was proving a little more tricky, what with the bone plates on its back and all. Daryl didn't offer to help out but Merle'd be damned if he was about to ask him to, either. They spoke briefly about the catch and the snares, and the need to hunt a long way from the prison so there'd still be game nearby in the middle of winter, but broke off when Carol appeared. She had a bottle of water in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other, and a platter under her arm.
"You missed breakfast, Merle." It wasn't quite a question. She took the cap off the water and put it down near him. The coffee went to Daryl. Of course.
"Huntin'," Merle grunted, his attention strictly on the armadillo. Yup, they were slippery little suckers. Needed all his attention.
"So I see. Rabbit?" Carol asked, pointing to the jointed pieces of game piled in a heap.
"Yup."
"Uh-huh." Carol started transferring the rabbit pieces onto the platter. "And … what the heck is that?" She pointed to the armadillo.
"Armadillo."
"Oh! O-kay… Are they… good to eat?"
"Hell yeah." Daryl finally chipped in. Sumbitch had just been standing there sipping his coffee watching Merle and Carol talk. The coffee was some organic fairtrade Arabica shit that had been put in that freezer stash they'd found, by some damn fools who didn't know that you didn't freeze coffee. Regardless, it was really good shit, and the aroma from Daryl's coffee was getting right up Merle's nose.
"Oh good. Well, Merle, could you please bring it in when you're done? We saved you some breakfast."
We. We saved you some breakfast. Not "I saved you some breakfast."
Merle grunted in assent.
Carol picked up the platter of rabbit, nodded to Daryl and disappeared back into the prison.
Once she was gone Merle wiped off his hand, and the knife attached to his right arm; the armadillo was about done. He picked up the water bottle and took a long slug and waited.
Daryl took another sip of his coffee and said nothing for a bit.
Then… here we go.
"So you ain't made things right with Carol yet?"
"What you think I am, a pussy?"
There was a pause, and Daryl replied, very quietly, "No I think you're a damn fool."
"Say wha'?" If Daryl had not spoken so quietly, had instead used his usual heat and temper, Merle's response might have been different, more articulate, or more profane, but Daryl had caught him by surprise.
"Carol's a fine woman. Lord only knows what she sees in you. But any man that's lucky enough to have her take him into her bed should be grateful, and do whatever he can not to fuck it up."
"And just hand his balls over on a platter?"
"It ain't about that Merle and you know it. Remember Ed? Looks like she ain't about to make the same mistake twice. I don't know what you said to her to kick this off, and I don't wanna know. But I DO know it was something damn nasty, cos you're one damn nasty sumbitch. Hell if you weren't my own brother I probly woulda put you down myself by now."
"Tried to, ya mean." Merle's response lacked his usual bluster. Hark at baby bro, trying to give him, Merle, relationship advice. Worst of it was, Merle was starting to listen.
"Just remember, if you ain't interested in fixin whatever your big mouth started, there's other single men round here for Carol to choose from, and I doubt there's a one of us that'd say no."
Daryl turned on his heel and walked away, adjusting the crossbow over his shoulder.
Well, second sib finally grew a pair. Couldn't rightly say he wasn't proud, sticking it to ole Merle like that, and trying to threaten him with cutting in. Didn't mean he was just gonna let baby bro walk off without a word.
"You had your chance little brother!" Merle hollered after him. "Took ya too long to get around to it, just like always. I don't gotta hand in my man-card just cos you're jealous that I'm getting some and you ain't!"
"You AIN'T getting some, asshole! Kinda the point." Daryl shouted back without turning his head.
"Got more'n you ever did!" Not his finest taunt.
Daryl kept walking, held up his coffee pointedly and flipped Merle the bird before turning the corner.
Damn. Merle really, really hated it when Daryl was right.
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTW DTWD
Beth and Carol were pottering around in the main room when Merle took the armadillo in and dumped it on the table. His breakfast cereal was sitting laid out at a place set for one, but rather than sit down and be subject to the women fussing around, he picked up the bowl, balanced it in the curve of his elbow, and walked over to the window to spoon it in.
Outside, Rick, Carl and Michonne were throwing a frisbee around, which was an incongruous sight with the prison fences beyond them, and stray walkers beyond that. Carl seemed to be having fun. Merle didn't begrudge the kid his enjoyment; lord knows the kid was having to grow up damn fast. He was a pretty good shot for a thirteen year old. Needs must, when the devil drives. Lousy at frisbee, though.
Carol walked over to see what had caught his attention, and smiled a little at the sight. She and Merle each lounged on opposite edges of the bay window, watching the rare moment of normalcy outside.
Merle had finished up his cereal, and Carol stepped over to him to take the bowl, closer than she'd been in days. Bowl in one hand, she surprised him by reaching up to stroke his face with the other.
"I miss you, Merle," she said quietly.
Merle quickly slipped his arm around her waist, and that felt real good. "We can fix that anytime you're ready sugarplum."
"No Merle," Carol shook her head sadly, "anytime you're ready."
She slipped out of his grasp and walked back to the far side of the room to resume her kitchen tasks with Beth.
Merle probably didn't need to clang the security door quite that hard when he left.
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTW DTWD
Carol had cooked up the armadillo with spinach, like shredded pork 'n' greens, and seasoned it with some kind of spice, Merle couldn't say what. It was real tasty, but Merle couldn't serve himself up as much as he would have liked, cos one armadillo didn't go far with that many people, even with thumper stew as the main dish. He enjoyed what he had, anyway, and was pleased to see a vegetable he actually liked back on the menu. He sneaked a look at Carol up at her end of the table – was this some kind of dig to remind him of what he was missing?
Carol was laughing at some comment Short Stack had made, and her face was alight with merriment. Been a while since he saw her like that. Well whose damn fault was that? He tried to ignore the Daryl in his head, cos baby bro was sitting right next to him working his way determinedly through the stew and dumplings, and he really didn't need two Daryls going at it.
Merle looked back at the spinach on his plate and picked up his fork then put it down again. He tried to pick the fork up again but couldn't bring himself to it.
"Carol," he said, suddenly, too loud. Yeah, way too loud, cos now everyone was staring at him.
Well hell if he was gonna say anything now. "Pass the salt wouldja?"
Carol frowned slightly and pointed to the far end of the table with an open hand. "It's down there next to Daryl."
"Huh, musta missed it there."
Daryl reached over and picked up the salt, then thumped it down next to Merle with unnecessary force. To cover his ass Merle shook a little over his plate, as everyone went back to whatever the hell it was they were discussing. Merle forked up his spinach, enjoying it regardless. Nothing much troubled his appetite.
Under the cover of the group's chitchat, Daryl said to him, real quiet-like, "Stubborn motherfucker."
Merle had a mouthful of spinach so couldn't say anything back. He settled for kicking Daryl's leg under the table.
"Ow!" Daryl said indignantly, and elbowed him hard in the ribs. Luckily he'd already swallowed that mouthful. Merle dropped his fork, gearing up to flick Daryl on the ear.
"Merle! Daryl!" Hershel spoke to them in his best patriarch manner from across the table. "If you boys can't behave yourselves properly at the supper table like civilised human beings you can always eat out in the yard."
"Well he started it," Merle muttered.
"Did not," Daryl stuck up for himself, just as surly.
"Did too."
"Enough! I don't care who started it. Just behave yourselves, the pair of you." As if that was the final word on the subject, Hershel turned to Carol and in his usual kindly tone said, "Carol dear, would it be too much to hope for some dessert?"
"Sorry Hershel, I didn't make any afters tonight. It took a little while to figure out what to do with the armadillo."
"Well it was delicious. Thank you." Hershel pressed his handkerchief to clear the grease from his mouth as though it was a fine linen napkin.
"Yeah Mother Hen, it was real good; thanks." There, see, Merle could play nice. When he wanted to.
"Well thank you for catching it Merle. Team effort," Carol replied.
Merle smiled a little crookedly. Team effort, huh. Well shit, maybe there is no "I" in team, but there sure as hell was an "M" and an "E".
He sneaked another peek at Carol. She was wearing that same purple top she'd had on when this whole thing kicked off, when they'd first got together; the one that was a little lower in front than her usual shirts, and showed off her rack nicely. He grinned a little to himself. Carol had thought she'd been so sneaky, luring him in to that pantry with promises of extra dessert, then fluttering around teasing him with touches on the arm and looking up at him through her lashes with those pretty blue eyes.
Truth to tell, he'd known she'd been up to something the moment she'd leaned over the table to hand him some utensil, leaned over far enough that she was practically inviting him to look down her top. He'd obliged her, of course. And enjoyed the sneak peek, too. But he'd known right then and there that something was up, because Carol had never done anything like that before, not even accidentally. She'd seemed to be a fairly modest type of woman, even if her clothes now weren't as dreary as the ones she'd worn back at the quarry. Actually, he'd barely noticed her back then, apart from wanting to smack down that loudmouth husband of hers, just for being a loudmouth without the balls to follow it up by dancing with a man for a change.
And despite her best intentions, Carol hadn't been quite able to pull the thing off, and it had been left to good ole Merle to pin her against the pantry shelving and rev her up until she just couldn't help herself any longer, and had kissed him. In the usual manner between men and women, one thing had led to another. That had been one sweet night. There'd been a few more since then, not as many as he would have liked, and then he'd fucked it up by being his usual mean junkyard dog self.
Merle dropped his fork again, food was all done, and said pointedly to Hershel, in a voice smooth enough to be a little insulting, "May I be excused?"
"You may," Hershel replied, choosing to ignore Merle's sarcasm and take his comment at face value.
There was a screech as Daryl pushed back his chair as well, and the brothers disappeared off in different directions.
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTW DTWD
Merle sat outside on a bench leaning back against the wall, bending his bad arm back and forth repeatedly. He'd had a sip from the hip flask of bourbon he carried, but that hadn't helped.
Farmer Joe came out the door, hopped nimbly down the steps and joined him at the bench, subsiding into a sitting position, crutches stacked neatly within grabbing distance. Merle knew better than to offer Hershel any liquor. Merle had been giving some thought as to how they could turn Hershel's crutches into some kind of weaponry, help him out some if he was ever cut off by walkers, but now didn't seem the time to bring it up.
"Arm bothering you?" That was Hershel's' opener.
"Hand. The one that isn't there."
"Hmm. It's the itching that gets me. When my toes itch, and I can't scratch them, it just about drives me to distraction."
Merle nodded. He knew the feeling. Right now it was pain he was suffering, but itching was definitely right up there on the bothersome scale.
"I find a good rub-down of the stump sometimes helps. Feels good, anyway. One of the women would probably massage that for you, if you asked them right," Hershel suggested.
Merle snorted. Whenever Beth looked at him right now it was with big hurt eyes. There was no way he was gonna ask Maggie. Mee-chonne would probably fix the problem permanently by taking the rest of his arm off at the shoulder with her sword. And as for Carol… well, don't even go there.
"You think? Case you haven't heard, I ain't exactly flavour of the month right now."
Hershel nodded sagely. "Seems like the solution to that lies in your own hands, Merle."
Merle said nothing, but sucked his teeth. He had no beef with the old man, and didn't want to start one now. Couldn't everyone just let him be?
Hershel continued, "Knowing their thoughts, he said to them, "Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no city or house divided against itself will stand." "
Merle sighed. Matthew 12:25. When even Hershal was weighing in on the subject, his back was against the wall. He wasn't about to speak to the old man like he had to the others. But he was getting a little tired of everyone sticking their oar in sideways. Best defence was always a good offense, and he never had any issue with giving offence.
"Listen Gramps, since you're so fond of quoting the Good Book, I got one for ya. Proverbs 17:28.*"
*Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise; when he closes his lips, he is deemed intelligent.
Hershel nodded his head a little, his tired eyes resigned. He rose and organised his crutches, then stared off into the distance for a moment. "Son, even the devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. If that's the way you feel, I'd rather you just told me to shut the fuck up."
TWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDT WDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTWDTW DTWD
To be continued…
One more chapter to go! I would be so delighted if you left a review.