AN… I have been very bad and am slightly behind with replying to you wonderful reviewers. I still hope to reply tonight if I can!
Part Thirteen
Dinner has to wait for Carol to get out of bed. No matter how he tries, and by fuck Merle tries hard, there's no getting around the fact he needs two hands and most of his fingers to wield a can opener. He'd have been fine if the electric one worked, and while he'd found Ed's fancy generator out back, his first test of it revealed it to be a noisy bastard and he'd killed it immediately, ending all chance of preparing dinner.
The truck was loaded up with everything he could find in the attic that looked like it might be useful for a baby and the bags and things Carol had already put aside to take from the house. He felt nervous about leaving it all out there, just waiting for some asshole to come along and steal it while they slept locked away inside the house, but he believed in being prepared, and that meant being ready to leave in a split second in case they woke to walkers everywhere.
Now, all he has left to do is wait. He'd contemplated getting shit-faced on Ed's pretty impressive collection of booze, but for the first time in his life, he's weighed up the potential danger and the lives he held in his three fingered hand, and came up wanting to stay sober. He wasn't sure who for—his first thought had been for his child. His second thought had been for his brother and his last, his final thought had been for Carol herself, and the realisation was like a punch to the face. Understanding exploded, the shrapnel of his epiphany leaving him shaking and winded.
The farmer talked about love like it was something Merle would understand better than Daryl, but the old man had been dead wrong. There was nothing about love that had touched Merle's life, and maybe that was the very thing that was wrong with him. It wasn't in his nature to put a woman first, unless he was about to fuck her, and even then the thought was a stretch. He was sure as shit he was too old to start now, no matter what he'd thought he wanted. Carol was a catch, no doubting that, but did he want to catch her? Did he want her in his bed for the rest of their days? The quick answer was…maybe. And Carol deserved more than a maybe, especially when Daryl was in it for the long haul, no questions about it.
Officer Friendly had asked him if he knew why he did the things he did, and Merle doesn't. His life is made up of need—he needs food, he eats. He needs booze, he drinks. He needs to let off some steam, he finds something to make the outside world slide away so that he doesn't have to see it anymore. If his dick twitches, he finds a pussy to scratch it. Finer emotions had always been a mystery to him—fight, fuck, sleep, repeat as needed. He'd spent his years falling into one form of escape or another and he'd never once been forced to make a choice. Until now.
Carol looks wrecked as she slowly wanders into the living room where he's been waiting and he hears her belly rumbling before she's even pushed through the doorway. Good, his own has been growling like a bitch for hours. He's upright in a blink, thrusting the cans at her and the opener, frowning until she heads to the kitchen and places it all on the counter, methodically removing the lids and handing the cans back to him. He snatches them back and goes about preparing the meal on the gas burner, suddenly not liking her watchful gaze settling on him.
The silence seems to leach the room of air and he's struggling to keep focused on his task, but he does nothing to break it until the bowl of an appetising-looking stew is dished up with a fork sticking out of a cube of unidentifiable meat, steamed heat billowing up into Carol's face. They eat, and he keeps his attention on the bowl, shovelling his food down and not caring about the burn on his tongue. He hates being famished, hates having to wait for other people to help him with shit, and fucking hates being useless with his emotions—fucking hates having none most of the time.
"What's wrong?"
Her voice cracks the atmosphere in the room like a gun blast and Merle rocks back on his heels. He should have known that she'd refuse to let it lie, let him break apart in his own peaceful way. He feels like growling, knowing that decisions are being made in his brain—ones that he's not altogether happy with but, for the first time, knowing it's right. His left hand dives into his pants pocket, fingering the white stick he's not hardly been able to let go of since he'd plucked it off the prison bathroom floor. He'd hoped that their one and only tryst would result in a kid, but now that the reality is here, he's confused and quite possibly terrified, and fear is something Merle has been chasing away his whole damned life.
He throws the stick on the counter between them, and for the first time since she's risen from her sleep, he looks her in the eye. She gasps, and then looks terrified of him. He doesn't like that, thinks if nothing else they've at least become friends.
"Don't need to look so damn scared. I ain't gonna hurt ya." He's satisfied when she sucks in a shaky breath and nods, a small smile shifting some of the pain of earlier away.
"I know," she says and damned if she doesn't reach across and take his hand. Only once they touch does Merle realise he's shaking.
"My baby brother know?"
She nods and there are tears in her eyes, and misery seems to be taking up space there again.
"That why he run?"
She nods again and he curses. "Fuckin' little pussy. What's he think runnin's gonna prove?"
Carol laughs, though it's only a short sound and barely fills the corners of the kitchen.
"He…didn't take it well."
He can see by the slump of her shoulders and the way her gaze shifts from his that what she's said is an understatement. She's trying to pull her dainty hand from his meaty paw and he holds on harder, trying to make his racing thoughts slow down so he can at least try and catch up.
"Don' be so hard on him. Our Daddy didn' teach us much, but we did learn how to run from pain. He'll be back, tail 'tween his legs, beggin' ya to forgive him, the little coward."
Another laugh and Merle admits he likes the way it splices the air around him, making this little space of theirs a more pleasant place to be.
"I know," she says, surprisingly confident. "He loves me. Daryl doesn't leave those he loves behind. He might run, but he'll come back. I know it."
Merle anticipates the sucker punch, waiting for it to at least wind him at the revelation, but it doesn't come.
"Shit," he drawls. "I been all het up over nothin'."
"Excuse me?" Her face is twisted up in confusion and Merle snorts.
"I been spendin' my time plannin' how to turn that prison into a little house with a white picket fence. Tearin' up my insides on how to fight my baby brother for somethin' we both wanted when I got no right to want it in the first place. You're his woman, I knew it firs' time I laid eyes on you an' him together. Hershel must need glasses if he thinks you two only care about each other as friends. Hell, I ain't never seen a pair more in love than the two of you."
"Hershel doesn't think Daryl an' I love each other?" The confusion seems to have grown deeper and Merle chuckles.
"Think the old man's taken a shine to me," Merle confides with a wink. "Prolly thinks we're the same—both lost a limb thanks to Officer Friendly, both substance abusers, abused by our daddies…"
Carol is speechless, he can tell. Not sure if he's just revealed some of Hershel's secrets but at this point he doesn't really give a shit. Stupid old man had put ideas in his head, made him want things that he knows now he's got no right in wanting. Has no energy to want it, either.
"That baby in there," he says, pointing at her still flat belly. "I'm not the kinda man who can be a good daddy for it, as much as I might wanna try to be. I'll be there for 'im, but that feelin' you have for Sophia, I don't have that in me. Daryl does, but I don't. It burned outa me long ago. Ain't no way to put it back."
"I don't believe that, Merle." She leans forward, tightening her fist around his fingers. "You're loyal to Daryl—to your family. You'll be loyal to this child, too."
"That maybe true," Merle says, feeling that it's more than possible, and it's something he's hoping can be, but he knows as far as Carol goes, she's better off without him muddying up her life. "I ain't likely to be loyal to you." The truth seems to wound her and she lets go of his hand, her body leaning back in her chair at the counter.
"You sure don't pull your punches, do you?" She laughs nervously, her eyes downcast as she rubs at her neck.
"Darlin', if I thought I could take you on, be faithful, love you like you deserve, I'd shove Daryl in a ditch first chance I got an' run away with ya. Only, my kid's in your body and I gotta be truthful to myself. I gotta respect my brother first, hell knows I ain't done enough o' that in the past."
"Wow, that's…thank you. I thought I'd have to be fending off your drunken advances all night," Carol jokes, and it's so close to how he'd originally hoped the night would progress that he huffs out a genuine laugh.
"Don' get me wrong, you're sexy as hell. Anythin' happens to Daryl, you jus' give me a holler and I'll devote myself to makin' you feel good in all the right places." Greedy eyes crawl over her body, resting longer than necessary at her tits and wishing he could see past the table top. He wonders if seeing her belly grow will make him change his mind, or if living with her and Daryl will slowly drive him insane with want of things he can never let himself have.
"You're not exactly repulsive yourself, Merle." Carol giggles and he's enchanted, and close to kicking himself for being in such a generous mood and handing her ass over to Daryl.
"I'm a damn fine specimen of man, darlin'. You'll be cryin' all the way back home that you're not gonna get another piece o' me." He's not joking as much as his tone would imply; he doesn't feel done by half of havin' pieces of her, lust for her making his blood roar and his cock ache. But, it was one thing to take her before Daryl had ever declared any kind of feeling for her, but now that he had, he's sure it would be the wedge between them that his little brother would never forgive.
"I'll try not to let it break my heart." She's more relaxed now, though she still looks exhausted and he realises this trip to her house has been emotionally devastating. The possibility had never crossed his mind, but he's willing to bet Daryl would never have allowed her to come here. His brother is soft, likes to hide from pain as much as Merle does, but generally by getting angry at it whereas Merle likes to fly away on a buzz.
"Hershell mentioned your girl. Said she was in his barn."
He should have kept his mouth shut but this was a part of the group's history that Daryl had refused to discuss with him. He wants to know why.
"We were overrun with a herd on the Interstate," she answers hesitantly. "We hid under cars but there were a couple left after the herd went through, and one noticed Sophia. She ran into the woods." She seems lost in the memory, and he feels pain watching her relive it, wishes he knew when to keep his damn mouth shut. "Daryl searched for her for days—he almost died." She looks up and is smiling. "He said you appeared to him and told him to get up before you kicked his teeth in. You probably saved his life that day. Walkers were gnawing on his boots. I saw the teeth marks."
"Wouldn't be the first time," Merle says with a wink, feeling pretty puffed up and invincible that his baby brother might visualise him when he was about to leave this world.
"I could never understand why he searched so hard for her. He didn't owe the group anything—he didn't owe me anything. I don't think he even liked Sophia."
Merle snorted. "That's easy. He was always volunteerin' to look for kids lost in the mountains back home. Somethin' about him goin' missing when he was a kid and no one even missin' him. I'da looked if I wasn't in juvie at the time." A dark look crosses his face at the memories but he banks it away for a day when he's on his own. He doesn't need to burden Carol with a brutal past that has shaped both brothers to be hardasses desperate to protect themselves from the world in whichever way they can. "'Sides, Daryl's always liked kids. Big ol' softie at heart."
He likes how much pleasure she gets from his words—how much reassurance. He knows Daryl would be better at raising his kid than Merle would be, and maybe between the three of them they'll raise one impressive little sonovabitch. He'll be strong, take no prisoners, hunt like a master, but he'd thrive, know how to love others like they'd love him. He hasn't even considered the possibility the child could be a girl.
"Tomorrow we'll go check out that baby store in town. If there's not too many biters around, we'll clean it out and head back to the prison. Who knows? Maybe that baby brother of mine will have located his balls and returned. Might even be missin' us right now." Merle grins so wide all his teeth are showing. "Might be whittlin' a special arrow to shoot straight into my ass for takin' you out overnight." He winks at her and then almost swallows his tongue in shock as she's up and around the kitchen counter, throwing herself into his arms before he can take his next breath.
"Thank you," she says for the second time that day and he's done keeping score. "You could have made this really difficult for me. I…don't have a lot of resistance to your charms," she admits and he can tell it's a huge leap in trust for her to reveal it to him, and he holds her a little tighter because of it, hiding his face against her neck. He doesn't have a lot of resistance to hers, either.
"Don' ever hurt 'im," he orders, his voice hoarse as it hits him what he's letting go. "That boy deserves to be happy."
"I won't," she whispers and he places a kiss against the vein that is throbbing in her throat, feeling the attraction lick slowly through his veins. Unable to resist touching her one last time, his hand sweeps over her ribs to pinch her nipple and as she gasps, he catches her lips in one last kiss. The tenderness of it blanks his mind, screams at him that he's making a mistake. That she's returning it instead of slapping his face emboldens hope, but then she's breaking their connection, sucking his bottom lip one last, lingering time before she's far away, too far to touch, smiling sadly. "Goodnight, Merle."
He watches every step until his last chance has retired to her bedroom and left him alone.
AN… Gahhhhhh! So, I have flipped back and forth on this story so much it's ridiculous. I anticipate one more chapter, possibly two. Hoping I haven't disappointed anyone too much, and truly, once this is done I have a true Marol idea I will be exploring to its fullest potential. I'm making that a promise! So, I'd appreciate feedback. I kind of liked this chapter ;)