Chapter Eleven:
Spiralling
Rick, Daryl and the old man were long gone by the time Merle awoke the next morning. Merle slumped his way downstairs to where the others were just finishing up breakfast, and scoffed at the quiet that fell when he entered the complex. Carl looked up from polishing his rifle with a frown. Beth looked quickly away. Laurel scowled at him. Merle sucked his teeth at them all, carried on regardless.
"Don't bother me, I'm all for the quiet. Feels like I've had my brain trampled by a horse."
"And who's to blame for that?" Carol scolded him, pouring him out some oatmeal into a bowl. Merle loaded it with a spoonful of honey without thanking her and took a seat on one of the isolated benches, watching Laurel and Beth as they fooled around with a wash bag, fumbling with the contents in girlish excitement.
"The hell are you two doin'?" Merle asked.
Both girls looked up at him, but neither gave an answer in the end.
"You never wore any makeup at all before all this?" Laurel asked her friend as she inspected a mascara wand from the bag they'd found in one of the cases from the highway.
"Not really- Daddy didn't like it, not after the way Maggie was. I mean, on special occasions I put on a little with Patricia, but... Dad said it wasn't seemly."
"Well, a little make-up never hurt nobody."
Beth smiled, stroking her figers gently over a blusher brush. "Daddy doesn't know all that much about teenage girls, I suppose."
"Dads never do," Laurel affirmed, testing a lipstick shade on the back of her hand. "I don't see why we shouldn't have a little fun; it's the end of the world, after all."
Merle caught on to what they were doing and shook his head.
"Well if that ain't a stroke of genius," he drawled, "playin' dress-up when we're two steps from hell's gate. Makin' yourselves up all nice and pretty for the Governor's men."
Beth dropped the powder palette in her hand, and it snapped shut on the seat of the bench before coming to settle on the pale grey floor.
Silence.
"Wow, Merle," Laurel said, in genuine disbelief. "Fuck you."
Merle looked around, as though for some affirmation that what he'd only said was what everyone was thinking. He was met with only cold, unloving stares.
Merle took another spoon of his breakfast. "I ain't apologisin'. This ain't no theme park, this is war. That's the reality, and rememberin' it is what'll keep you alive."
"That's enough," Carol said quickly. Merle and Laurel stared at one another, the latter's gaze cold and void.
"Like I said," Laurel reaffirmed. "Fuck you, Merle."
He looked as though he were going to retaliate; instead he slammed his spoon down upon the table and stood.
"I don't need this shit," he said, leaving the bench and heading for the courtyard. The group watched him go in silence.
"Are you okay?" Beth asked as Laurel began to pack away the makeup, tucking the bag away beneath the bench. Laurel snapped quickly out of her thoughts, looking up at Beth with a forced smile.
"I'm alright, yeah," she winced, but Beth wasn't fooled.
"Are you sure?"
"...Mhm."
Beth didn't want to push the subject, but she felt she just couldn't leave it there; they'd all seen how she'd marched back in after finding Merle drunk down in the corridors.
"...Did something happen last night?"
Laurel looked blank again. She shook her head. "Not really."
Beth reached a hand out to her friend and placed it on her knee; Laurel looked away. "...Do you wanna talk about it?"
A sickly feeling swam in Laurel's chest.
"No. Maybe later, but... not yet."
~oOo~
No one saw anything of Merle until later that afternoon, when he came skulking back inside with a scowl on his face as everyone but Carol, who were taking watch, sorted through the weaponry which Rick had brought back from yesterday's run.
Merle stood back against the metal grate, arm up on the doorway and a cynical scowl on his face.
"What we should be doin'," he drawled, "is loading some of this firepower in a truck and payin' ourselves a visit to the Governor. We know where he is, right now."
"We told Rick and Daryl that we'd stay put," Maggie said to him coldly, swinging a rifle over her shoulder and heading for the door.
"I've changed my mind, sweetheart. Bein' on the side-line with my little brother out there… ain't sittin' right with me."
Glenn shook his head. "The three of them are right in the middle of it with no idea we're coming. They could get taken hostage or killed, a thousand things could go wrong-"
"-And they will," Merle told the others.
"My dad can take care of himself," Carl piped up, looking quickly at Merle.
"Sorry, son, but your dad's head could be on a pike real soon." Carl glared at Merle before sweeping out of the cell block.
"Don't say that to him," Maggie called over, following after Carl.
"It's not the right move- not now," Glenn honed. "We can't take the risk of putting them in the crossfire; that's my decision, and It's final."
Merle shook his head. He approached one of the benches and swept up two tubs of ammo and an assault rifle, muttering under his breath.
"What are you doing?" Maggie asked.
"I'm gonna go out there and end this shit before it gets any worse. Michonne don't wanna come, and that's fine- but I'm goin'. I'll finish this for good, and you'll all thank me when it's done."
"Hey, you're not going!" Glenn snapped, reaching out to Merle.
"Don't you touch me!" Merle spat, moving up the steps. "I don't need no one's permission, least of all yours, Chop-sticks. I'm goin'."
"I can't let you."
"Well, you sure as shit can't stop me."
"It's a stupid idea!" Laurel rebuked him from across the room, a flame of anger in her tone, "You'll get everybody killed!"
"If you're gonna live here with us, it's gonna be on our terms," Maggie demanded, "If Michonne can do it, why can't you?!"
"'Cause it's my brother out there, that's why!" Merle roared, looking around the group, "what the hell is the matter with y'all?!"
"I'm not going to let you put them in danger," Glenn barked assertively, moving across the balcony so that he stood in Merle's path. Merle took a step closer, staring him out.
"Nut up already, boy. This guy cops himself a feel of your woman and you pussy out like this? Get outta my way."
"…No."
Merle nodded at the man, rolling his jaw- with a swift swing of his fist he grabbed Glenn, pulling on his neck so that he was forced off the slope of the staircase- Glenn wrapped his arms quickly around the mass of Merle's waist, causing the two of them to fly down and slam hard onto the concrete below. Merle crushed his fist into Glenn's face, once, twice, three times, drawing a flood of red from his nose as Glenn fought to get him off.
Maggie screamed, running forwards and pulling at the back of Merle's shirt as he straddled Glenn, his hand thrust around the boy's neck. Laurel and Michonne shot forward too, grabbing an arm of Merle's each, screaming at him to stop his assault.
"Get offa me!" Merle yelled, and thrust his arm forcefully backwards in an attempt to free himself; there was a scream and suddenly the hold on his arm was gone, and someone stumbled backwards and fell; Merle turned to see Laurel on the ground a foot or so from him, holding her face in her red hands.
Michonne was off him like a shot. She got to one knee beside the girl, drawing her hands away from her face to see the damage; Merle looked at his bayonet and saw the red there, only then putting two and two together. When he turned back he saw the open red gash on Laurel's face, and the shocking scarlet red which covered the left side of her face. The others were speechless, the fight forgotten as Glenn wriggled free and Maggie helped him to his feet; Beth scrambled over to help Laurel, and she and Michonne lead the startled girl quickly away.
"I... I didn't mean to," Merle called after them, as Michonne glared back at him.
"Happy now?" Glenn snapped hoarsely, fingers working at his throat; Merle dropped the bag of weapons and the rifle to the floor at his feet, and made for the door. This time Glenn let him pass, and Merle disappeared out into the heat of the courtyard.
~oOo~
"What happened?!" Carol called, having been informed of the situation and relieved of her watch duties by Carl. She found Maggie and the others in Hershel's cell, where the former was cleaning up Laurel's face.
"Merle Dixon happened," Maggie seethed hotly, pressing a cloth to the still bleeding wound. Laurel sat still as stone, tears in her eyes which had not yet fallen. "He started beating up Glenn then slashed Laurel's face open-"
Laurel let out a sob. The tears fell. Glenn rubbed at her back reassuringly, telling her that it was going to be alright. Carol came closer to get a better look at the wound; with the blood cleaned away she could see that it was deep where the blade had first made contact, in an upper-cut below her left cheekbone, on an inverted angle. The wound became shallower as it progressed, though it had knocked lightly through her eyebrow, narrowly avoiding her eye.
"It was an accident," Beth added quietly. Laurel winced, the tears stinging as they ran through the wound.
"Is it gonna scar?" Laurel said, her voice choked. Carol knew a thing or two about wounds; she delivered the honest truth.
"Where it's deepest, there on your cheek, I think so. But scars fade over time-"
Laurel broke down again. Beth moved to comfort her, bringing an arm around her shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Laurel said, feeling stupid.
"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Glenn reassured her. "It's that idiot who should be sorry. He will be."
"Lets not complicate things anymore than they already are," Carol said, in an attempt at diffusing the situation. "Daryl and Rick can deal with Merle when they get back."
The group took Carol's advice. Rick, Hershel and Daryl returned safely just as the sun was beginning to set. The group gathered to hear what had happened, setting aside the story of the day's events until the more important matter was dealt with. Daryl stepped up beside Carol as Rick began to speak, whispered in her ear.
"Where's Merle?"
Carol just shook her head, and rested a hand upon his shoulder.
"So, I met this Governor," Rick began, "sat with him for quite a while. He wants the prison. He wants us gone... dead. He wants us dead for what we did in Woodbury." He let that sink in amongst them for a moment, each face deep with shock then added,
"We're going to war."
The others began to mumble amongst themselves. Daryl, already adjusted to the worrying news, turned to Carol.
"What's up? What's he done this time?"
"Nothing's up, as such," she tried, attempting to keep things in proportion after Rick's revelation. "He got into a scrap with Glenn earlier, and Laurel got hurt. He's cut up her face pretty bad."
Daryl looked stricken. "Son of a bitch. Where is he? She alright?"
"She's okay, sleeping in her new cell. Just shaken up, I think. But that cut'll leave a scar. You're brother's done a dissapearing act; trying to get his head clear, I suppose. He feels bad about it, I think. Talk to him, but try not to let it turn it into a war... by what Rick said, it looks like we've already got one of those on our hands. I know he's your brother, but he isn't good for you. Don't let him drag you down or talk you into anything. After all... look how far you've come."
With careful fingers, she reached out for his hand. Daryl's own went rigid beneath her grip; she looked up at him with a meaningful expression. He wasn't used to gentle contact, that she understood completely; but she needed this right now. Maybe he did too.
Daryl sound his brother eventually, sat in the back of one of the trucks left out in the field, smoking the stub of a cigarette. When he saw Daryl approach, he picked another end from the pile he had collected and lit it up; two puffs and it was gone. He moved onto the next of his little collection, tossing the filters out into the grass.
"I'm all out of smokes," he said. "What do you want? Come to give me a lecture? So I clocked your Chinese friend and that girl got a little too close. Stupid bitch shouldn't have grabbed for me-"
"You cut up her face. Her face, man."
"Yeah, well it wasn't on purpose, was it?"
"You better have a big fuckin' apology lined up for her. Carol says it's gonna scar."
"Yeah, well that's life, ain't it. What'd the Governor say?" Merle asked hotly, stubbing out the last of his cigarette as it began to burn the ends of his fingers. Daryl pulled out a packet from inside his vest and handed one to his brother, who lit up for the both of them.
"It's on," Daryl answered, taking his first puff. Merle exhaled, nodded his head.
"I told ya. We should have got outta here why we stood half a chance."
Daryl frowned. He finished his cigarette. "You should talk to Laurel. Least you can do is say sorry to her... and to Glenn."
Merle scoffed under his breath and gestured to his little brother with his bayonet. "Don't push it."
~oOo~
Merle and Daryl made their way back into the cell block some time later. Merle ignored the stares and silent judgements, and found his way to Laurel's new cell a the rest of the croup talked battle-plans; the girl was sat on her new bed, attempting to detangle the knots from her wild hair. Her backpack was on the floor, and the picture of her family propped up by the bed. Her face was bandaged up, the skin red and puffy around it. Merle cleared his throat, leaning in the doorway.
"Your new place is nice. What made you move out?"
Laurel turned aside, her expression sour. "I didn't like the neighbours."
Merle lowered his head. He'd give her that one.
"...Look. I just came to let you know I'm sorry."
"Sorry, for nearly slicing my head in two. You know, you don't realise how much you like your face until some asshole with a knife for a hand comes along and ruins it."
Merle frowned a little deeper. He deserved that one too, he guessed.
"...Yeah. I am sorry."
"Good. You should be. You know, I was starting to think there was a you underneath all of the asshole-ery, but under you being an asshole is just more of you being an asshole. Joke's on me, right?"
Merle itched. It was hard not biting back at her. "You know it was an accident."
"Of course I do. It still makes you an asshole. Besides, this-" she gestured to her face- "isn't the only thing, is it? You get absolutely paralytic when people are counting on you, leave me to pick up your mess. You drag me out into the tombs and..."
Her sentence trailed off. Merle picked it up.
" I don't remember none of it, sugar. They've all told me you were mighty pissed at me but I don't know why. Did I... do anythin'?"
Laurel understood what he was trying to convey. It would be much easier to pretend it had never happened, to go on as normal, but she knew that wasn't the right way to deal with the situation.
"You were trying to," she said. "You changed your mind, or I changed it, at least. You scared the hell out of me. "
Merle seemed more ashamed of that than of slicing her face open. He didn't ask for more details; he didn't want to know.
"Promise me you'll never do anything like that again," Laurel told him, looking at him hard this time."What were you thinking, getting wasted out of your mind?"
"Hell, I just... just needed a kick, y'know?"
Laurel looked at him with a hard stare; she seemed hurt. Her face seemed to ask if that was an excuse, if a quick trip out of this place was really worth hurting her so badly, upsetting her like this... Merle turned away and shook his head.
"What if the Governor had come, right then? You wouldn't have been able to protect yourself, never mind the group."
"Who says I care about that bunch of-?"
"Oh, stop," Laurel told him firmly. "These people are your friends, Merle, or at least they would be, if you'd drop the bullshit and just let it happen. They're the closes thing you have to them. And all of us need you, asshole as you are, not some drunken louse who can't even stand up straight, never fight a battle or use a weapon. You need to start thinking about other people."
"That's never been something I'm all that good at."
"Get good at it," Laurel ordered sternly, no room for empathy in her voice.
Merle was taken a back a little at that; hell, this shit had really affected her. He could see it now, and he could see that she'd forgive him for it, that she wouldn't hate him because of what he'd done to her, not only the wound he had inflicted, but the damage he could have potentially done in getting pissed out of his mind and putting her in danger, not only from Walkers and potentially the Governor but from himself. They were lucky, he realised. He had put them both in that situation, and it was only by circumstance that they had come out of it undamaged in one way or another. Just lucky.
"Sorry, darlin'," he drawled eventually, looking away from her. Laurel heard it that time, and it sounded genuine.
"Yeah," she replied quietly, a softness to her tone. She even gave him a hint of a broken smile. "I know you are."
~oOo~
"The group's taking it as well as can be expected," Hershel told Rick as he met with him out on the balcony the next morning, "Merle and Michonne are convinced we should hit first- Carol and I think we should take our chances on the road... but we're in this together. So if we stay and fight... so be it."
Rick nodded. "He gave me a choice- a way out," Rick explained to Hershel, speaking of the Governor, confiding in the man the secret he could no longer contain.
"...What does he want?"
"Michonne."
"...He'll kill her-"
"-And then kill us anyway," Rick agreed, nodding his head slightly. "...But what if he doesn't? What if this is the answer?"
"Why didn't you tell them?" Hershel asked, referring openly to the rest of the group.
"They need to be scared."
"They are," Hershel confirmed, thinking of Beth's gaunt face when she'd heard the news... oh, his poor girls. They were terrified.
"Good," Rick offered, "'Cause that's the only way they'll accept it."
Hershel shook his head. This just wasn't right. "She saved my life... and Carl's. Glenn, Maggie- if she hadn't come here, we never would have known they were taken. She's earned her place."
"Yeah... yeah, she has." Rick bowed his head sadly then faced the glaring sun. "But are you willing to sacrifice your daughters' lives for her?"
Hershel couldn't answer that question out loud. Of course his girls were worth more to him than that woman, and he'd watch a hundred men die to see them safe. But this... this was not right.
"Why are you telling me?"
Rick itched the back of his hand and grumbled, "because I'm hoping you can talk me out of it."
