Chapter notes: Merle's subconscious is kind of crowded with a dream sequence. He is feeling better and healing therefore he is starting to get more restless and some of his quirks are beginning to come back to the surface. He's still Merle but this is changing him he may be acting a little OC but he is man with a lot of layers. He is trying to get along a little better. He is remembering taking care of Daryl when he was little and trying to protect him. Also ( ) indicates that he is talking to himself silently. Thanks for reading people J review review review TY.

Merle POV

I watch Daryl stalk off and consider his outburst. I don't think I've ever heard him say so much with such assertiveness. He is right even if I didn't dream about Momma. I literally can't do it on my own anymore at least for now. I need them to see me as I really am, not just Merle the evil badass, but me as someone hopefully deserving to be here, even if ignored. I just can't deal for everyone seeing me as the very worst of people. I just want to be left be. Give me a car to fix, or let me go hunting. I'm happy not having to deal with others much, let me take lots of guard rotations. Just don't bother me with stupid shit. That's all I really want.

I forget that Skya is awake

"Damn Merle, I've never heard your brother talk in full sentences before. He must really be worried about you to have so much to say"

I nod and stare off into space for a while. Things are going to have to be different now. I've always done better on my own, I've never been cut out for being around people all the time. Now it's time to learn this, at least until I've healed and can breathe normally again and have strengthened up to my normal asskicking self again. I'm really looking forward to when I have the energy and lung strength to work out again; even if I have to figure out how to manage without a full grip on my remaining hand.

I shake my head and give her a wry smile "How's about a short walk jus' me n you? I gotta start getting this lung healthy again. I'm not getting' any stronger sittin' here staring off to space. I'm damnably bored too. Ya got somethin' for me ta do?"

She sits up and considers me. "Lets walk around the room see how your lungs like it. I stand up with her and get my bearings, my arm and ribs are sore but I can take a shallow breath. My back hurts worse than anything, hard to stand up straight, but I force it to comply at least a little more. Move it Marine! She sees me wince and raises an eyebrow. "Don't push yourself too far and make yourself bleed again". I snort "I'm okay lets walk before I get tired". I move like I'm an old man (which Im not damn you).

The infirmary is a big room, enough for Skya, Beth, Carl (who avoids me) and the younger kids and me on the other side. Skya has her arm around my waist which I don't mind as she smells good and her hair is soft. She is only 4-5 inches smaller than me. I'm nearly 6 ft so she's fairly tall. I've lost some weight she must be nearly same as me as she is bulky and very strong with some remaining weight accentuating her curves. She has nice curves. I smell her hair as she walks with me. Very nice. She takes notice of my ogling.

"Gotta get healthy first before you can act that dirty mind of yours out", she smirks. As we circle the room I'm getting short of breath, all I can do is glance at her and smirk. She has a very odd bedside manner. She obviously has taken care of sick people before but I can't imagine her talking them as he does to me. She is exceedingly blunt. We get back to my bed I sink into it with a groan that I can't hold back and ease myself into my favorite position off of my back and fucked up right side. She sits next to me " I sure wish I had a cold pack for your back muscles near your exit wound, might help the tightness and help your breathing muscles a bit."

I throw a look over my right shoulder, "how is my wound looking by the way I can still smell it a little" Skya considers my back as she thinks "Hershel had to dig it out a bit when the infection set in, there was cloth from your shirt trapped in the wound and a fragment of the bullet in there. He and Maggie opened it up and got all the crap out that they could but it involved the muscles more and is deep to the scapula. So it has to be packed with gauze and changed every day or two. It is granulating nicely though, but it's no longer infected and smells like fresh blood to me. I've smelled much worse wounds. It will be healing for a while and you will probably have a doozy of a scar. With all of those previous scars and your hand amputation, you must know about the healing process though. I will do everything I can to make sure there is no adhesion"

It's true too. It's been a while since I looked in the mirror, but I'm covered in scars. I know I'm fucked up to look at when I pull my clothing off. I have to admit I'm considered ruggedly attractive until they see the scars. Then I give them the bullshit line about being a POW. My daddy was a brutal abusive bastard who liked to put a hurting on my mother Daryl and me. Never understood why, but my early life was spent protecting myself and Daryl from his brutality, unsuccessfully as we are both covered in scars from his belt and cigarettes. He even burned me across the stomach when I was about 4 and I had peed myself in fear, he then pushed me into the fire and called it a weenie roast, I screamed until the neighbors came, I have a huge scar from my hip to my navel. I tell people I got captured and tortured when I was a sniper in Granada. No one but Daryl had to know that my father tortured us and the military was far less damaging. Women do love a war hero after all. My scars never stopped me from functioning in bed, even if they did stop me from being comfortable around people.

"yeah I guess you got a point, but don't expect to tell you about my scars, the story is best left alone but suffice it to say that going to war in Granada was less dangerous than growing up in the good ole' Dixon household if you get my drift. Moving forward that's why Daryl and I are used to patching each other up setting dislocation and gluing or sewing minor wounds shut. But I've never had a wound that needed packed; even my gunshot wound I picked up in the military in my right side had no infection and healed with minimal medical care. I am actually a fucking war hero". I did end up getting kicked out after I got better from my wound and had a fist fight with a non com pussy that messed with me. I ended up in the brig for 16 months took away my purple heart and everything.

"Holy shit Merle you have some eye-popping stories, guess you have a long history of scintillating personality quirks" She smiles and goes across the room to dig in a pile, she comes back with an armful of stuff. "You said that you're bored so here are some books to read, not sure how good they are but it's something to help your mind stop feeding on itself.

Come on girl you're a therapist, give me some exercises that I can start toning up this beat to shit carcass of mine and especially this mangled up hand. Can I get rid of these bandages on my hand and start stretching my arm yet. . . "She agrees to show me some stretches for my hand and abdomen." I don't think your injured fingers are ready for you to start fixing stuff, but you can start doing some hand and breathing exercises so you can function better. I can go over them with you if you like"

I spend the rest of the morning getting myself washed and dressed and starting to stretch and holding back painful groans more often than not. Her kids are starting to hang around by me. I prefer kids that don't talk yet. Her son is very bright, but doesn't have much experience with anything concrete. Her daughter is shy and (thankfully) doesn't say much but just unnerving tends to stare at me. Skya catches on fortunately and says something about it before I have to string up anyone by their ankles, shooing the kids back to Beth and Carl.

One of the books she found for me is a book about scientists, a time machine and the bubonic plague (just weird) which started out boring as shit but became intriguing. So I sat there for hours flipping the pages with my abused fingers as day became dusk and my muscles tightened up from sitting. I smell food and finish my page, then without waiting I make my slow gimpy way over to where the rest eat dinner.

"Figured now that I'm awake it's time to move around some. I sit down next to Skya and her son smiles at me. "Did you know that the shawshank redemption was filmed in a real prison?" Did you know that the meteor that killed the dinosaurs was called 'Armageddon'? Where does this kid come up with this shit? I look at him he is skinny, quite tall has his mother's blue eyes and wide-set cheekbones, but not her solid build. He is very vulnerable and spends his time with his head in the clouds but still cries at night for his lost father. If he were mine, he would be hunting learning how to defend himself. This kid needs some toughening up. I reply "I did not know that. Where do you come up with this stuff kid?" He smiles and says"I used to spend time on the computer, before everyone got sick. I wanted to be a paleontologist. I learned to read when I was 4."

I don't want to piss off his mother so I look at her for guidance. She smiles, "honey I don't know that Merle is interested in space. You know we need to teach you how to defend yourself and how to use a weapon. That is what he is good at. But now let's focus on the meal and let's not ask Merle too many questions just yet. Let him get to know you Quietly. He starts tearing up. I say "kid when my hand gets better we will start fixing stuff together. I might need you to hold things for me until I can use my wrist guard again" He smiles (reminds me of another blue eyed little boy).

The girl crosses her eyes at me when her mother isn't looking. I stick out my tongue quickly and then just as quickly school my features while the little imp giggles. Carl glares at me but can't quite keep the smile off his face. I snicker as they all giggle. Skya looks at me and I merely raise an eyebrow. I focus on trying to eat is somewhat normal fashion until it's time to grip my cup. Then it slips out of my bandaged hand all over my lap and the floor, breaking as it hits the concrete. I swear as the kids laugh. Skya watches me then picks up her own cup and looking me in the eye dumps it into her own lap. Sploosh the whole damn thing.

I laugh and say "damn girl is it a prison or a pigsty". Skya's little girl then starts oinking as does Emma the toddler girl. Beth colors up red and laughs. She and Skya hit the floor and start picking up pieces of my glass and sopping up the drinks. I pick up my plate and move to the kids table; where they make room for me. Never thought I would see the day Ole Merle sitting with a bunch of kids eating and NOT being totally uncomfortable. I even smiled a little; aware that Beth is watching me stunned with her mouth hanging open threatening to catch bugs (I will have to say something rude later to keep up my image). Skya looks up at me and laughs (I hope she feels strong because I'm gonna need someone to lever my creaky ass outta the chair and back to bed). Normalcy such as it is feels good (hey y'all Merles at the kids table and no one got eaten - as if I'm really a ogre)

The meal was filling and I start getting snoozy but I feel like it aint time to sack out yet. I force myself to take another painful walk getting 2 laps around the room before needing to stop. I curl up with my book and read of scientists and plagues. Really not as much science fiction as it once was. (too bad that).

I dream, I was 15 and Daryl was 7. Momma had worked late that night, no longer young and pretty enough, she waited tables while we were in school, and then drank the rest of the time. She was late coming home from work, Daryl was home by himself when my Daddy got home early and he had spilled milk on the floor. I came home to Daryl having climbed to the roof to stay away from the angry bastard who was hanging out the window of our trailer trying to dislodge him. I yanked my fathers ass into the house and pounded him one hard right off "get yer hands off him you have no right to hit him for anything". Dad jumped to his feet swept mine out from under me and my head bounced off table he rolled me over and pinned me bending my arm behind me until I saw stars and I felt my weak left shoulder slide out yet again. He then punched me until I passed out. Daddy then jumped in the beat up old truck and pealed out of the yard to go drink himself insensible.

Mumbling about "useless brats". Momma came home an hour later already buzzed up found me on the floor and helped me climb into bed. She didn't even notice that Daryl wasn't in the house. He was still on the roof hiding from his parents. He climbed in when Momma disappeared for the night. Got a towel and helped me wash up my wounds, and put my arm back into place. I woke up in the morning to him bringing me the cereal box and the carton of milk so this time he didn't spill it.

Three months later I was in juvie for the first time after being caught with weed in my pocket. The cycle had started.

So a little fluffier in some areas but still pretty angsty. Merle is starting to get better and he is trying to get along but he is kind of cluess however he does like kids and he is good at fixing and building stuff. He's getting antsy too Poor Merle. If anyone has a suggestion I'm always looking for good ideas. Let 'em rip. I think in a couple of chapters he will be out of the infirmiary trying to get back to using weapons, hunt etc, maybe exploring how to really be a brother and how to function as limited as he is now. so do you think he will make it or is he going to be self destructive hmm

one shout out

Reassurance by TheSparrow93. Merle was burned on his stomach and hip by his Dad at the age of 4. apparently it was a weenie roast. sick but amped up the angst. loved the tender love between brothers.

ha. no way I just looked at my traffic graph exactly 666 views, kinda fitting for Merle being the main character don't you think?