MERLE
It had been five days since Negan returned to oversee Merle and Milton's training and they had not said a word to each other. They were forced to work in the biter yard where Negan had the Saviors set up a type of biter obstacle course that prevented anyone from getting anywhere close to the Savior compound except the main driveway. This ensured that no one could stage a sneak attack and that if anyone tried to creep in by foot, they had to weave through dozens of biters that were all chained in place within feet of each other. Merle and Milton were tasked with setting up new biters by floodlight in the dead of night and Milton nearly became a victim if Merle hadn't thrown his full body weight backward to pull Milton aside.
Despite this, Milton didn't speak to Merle, partly because of Merle's threat, but Merle was in no mood to say anything in return either. And so they did as they were told, not without Merle's normal refusal, and went to bed on near empty stomachs. Merle's nightmares remained as violent as ever, only when he awoke, it was because Milton had hit him hard enough to make him nearly bite his tongue in half. As rebuttal, Merle would kick at Milton to make the latter wake up instead of holding him down.
How long they could go without speaking to one another when they were bolted together was up for debate, especially since Merle needed someone to argue with at the very least, but he could also be just as stubborn as Milton if it came to playing the quiet game. After all, it wasn't Milton who had been made out to be a selfish, narrow-minded weakling in front of Negan's men. Merle's reputation as an unbreakable man was put to the test when Milton spoke out of turn and humiliated him.
There had been a brief, one-sided conversation after that scene in the arena in which Milton tried to explain to Merle that Merle's position as a strong-willed man was not tarnished just because Milton had told him to stand down and that Merle was simply overreacting, but Merle had been far too angry at Milton to dignify his partial apology with a response at that time. It wasn't entirely Milton's fault for calling Merle off, but to do so after Negan had made light of Daryl's death like it was some joke was not something Merle could let pass. No one sullied Daryl's memory, not when none of them had seen the look on Daryl's face before he pulled the trigger that blew out his brains. Only three people remained alive who had been there during Daryl's final moments and Milton was not one of them, so he couldn't understand what it meant to hear complete strangers poking fun at Daryl's death and accusing Merle of homosexual acts as substitution for allowing Daryl to die.
Merle supposed that at some point he would have to forgive Milton, but the friendship they had developed since that night of reckoning had been rattled. And if Milton was in any way hurt by Merle's silence, he didn't show it, but Merle didn't bet on Milton getting his feelings hurt easily. However physically inept he was, he was a lot more emotionally and mentally sound than most people gave him credit for.
But Merle didn't intend to be the first one to break the silence.
After a particularly nasty evening meal of baby food consisting of blended ham and rice, Merle sat with his back to the wall, dozing with his head resting on his knees when he heard the now familiar sound of a door closing somewhere down the hall. He stood up, waiting for the refrigerator door to open while he wondered who was paying them a visit this late and for what purpose.
He was met with no less than six guns pointed at him as Simon came forth and ordered Merle to stay where he was or get six bullets in the chest. Simon went to Milton who backed himself into the wall beside Merle.
"The hell's goin' on?" asked Merle.
No one gave him an answer as Simon unchained Milton and with a hard shove between Milton's shoulder blades, marched him from the room.
"Hey!" shouted Merle as the fridge door slammed shut.
No one had said a word. Or even looked at him. They had one purpose from the time they opened the door, and that was to grab Milton, for something he had done…
Where were they taking him? And on what charges? What could Milton, Negan's pet project, have possibly done to have earned such aggression? Surely, surely they weren't going to kill him? All of a sudden it struck Merle that Negan had said he was going to the prison the day he returned to watch Merle and Milton train and if something had happened at the prison—something triggered by Andrea—there was only one person Negan would make pay for it.
"Lemme out!" Merle hollered, kicking at the door even though he knew it would do no good. "Open the door, dammit! I wanna see Negan! Open the goddamn door!"
He continued pounding on the door with his metal appendage for a solid five minutes before it opened from the other side mid-ram and Merle went barreling into the person who had opened it without realizing that it had opened. Owen and Thomas had come for him and both were looking rather sick to their stomachs.
"What's goin' on?" Merle demanded again. "They took Milton—"
"Negan wants to talk to you," said Thomas. "And I suggest you listen to him this time."
"The hell's that s'posed t'mean?"
"You'll see," said Owen forebodingly.
Each of them took one of his arms and led him down several flights of stairs, not to the arena, but to what looked like a meat preparation room. Merle had had reason to believe that the building that made up Savior HQ used to be a warehouse of sorts that doubled as a bulk grocery store that had had various rooms added on to it to make it more habitable for the apocalypse. The room he was taken to gave rise to that belief, as Merle saw several rusted machines that he recognized as meat slicers. This room had once been a deli, for there was a room added on that had boarded-up windows that Merle could just see chains hanging from where slabs of meat used to be strung up for preparation.
Negan was waiting for him, sitting on a table and dangling his legs as he tossed Lucille from hand to hand.
"There he is. Glad you could join us, Merle."
"Where's Milton?" asked Merle automatically.
"We'll get to that. First, I wanna address something that's been nagging at me for quite a while. See, I think I'm a reasonable guy. I live off of the debt system; I do you a favor, you do me a favor. Everyone's happy that way, don't you think? But it also works that I take back what's taken from me. So you kill one of my people, I kill one of yours. You know this; you watched me make Rick's brains as fine as one of the meat patties that used to line these shelves."
Merle didn't know why Negan was bothering to restate all this nonsense since Merle already knew it, but the reference to meat and the fact that they stood in the meat department was starting to give Merle some nasty ideas as to what was coming.
"You killed more of my people, thus taking away manpower, so I took you and Milton to start and rebuild my army and in the meantime, your people provide for me. I make sure your people are treated fairly and in return, you do as I say, only that's where the problem is. You don't always do as I say. You've fought me since the second you laid eyes on me and though I've let it slide in the hopes that you'd get the message, I can see even after taunting you about your brother, you're not gonna give me what I want, so we've gotta do this the hard way. Now, tell me, where are we?"
Merle wasn't going to do this; he wasn't going to play along and let Negan toy with him before he died because he was sure of it now. If he refused to bend to Negan's will, the man would have no use for him and no matter what Negan did to him, Merle wouldn't give in. He couldn't. So he would die once Negan realized that.
"C'mon, you can answer. This is like a private tutoring class, Merle, there aren't any wrong answers. Just guess; where d'you think we are?"
Merle didn't dignify him with an answer.
"Simon, where are we?" asked Negan without turning his face from Merle.
"Meat department," said Simon with a smirk.
"Exactly. And who or what around here likes meat?"
Merle's heart beat double time against his chest. He glanced around, looking for a biter that Negan would spring on him, but Negan only laughed at his readiness.
"I'm not talking about chompers, Merle. I'm talking about my dog, Sawyer. He's gotta eat too, doesn't he? And dogs eat meat, but since game seems to be scarce around these parts, I gotta feed him somehow. So here's how this is gonna go; I'm gonna give you a short list of things to do and if you do 'em, fine, but if you don't, we start taking bits of you, piece by piece and feedin' 'em to the dog. But here's the catch; I wanna see the look of a defeated man in your eyes. I wanna see the look I saw on Skull and Crossbones' face when I found out he'd been raped. I wanna see the look that was on everyone's face that night I killed Rick—except yours. You will break before I'm done with you and we'll go all night and into tomorrow if we have to. We're not leavin' this room until I get the answer I want outta you and the answer I want is, 'I'm yours, Negan.' So it's up to you to decide how long we're gonna be here."
Negan stood up, still favoring his good leg, but he had a good three inches over Merle and in the enclosed space, the shadow he cast reminded Merle eerily of the Governor just as much as this meat department reminded him of the lab in Woodbury where Milton and Andrea had been tortured.
"Are you ready for this? The first task's an easy one: kneel."
In the month and a half Merle had been here, he hadn't once willingly sank down onto his knee. Every time, he had been forced by another Savior or Milton. He wasn't about to start now.
But as he remained upright, Negan didn't look the least bit put out by Merle's resilience. On the contrary, he looked eager to get to the grittier consequences as if this was his favorite game to play.
"Start with the fingernails, boys," he told Denunez and Cooper, who seized Merle and slammed his arm down on one of the tables, forcing his hand flat. Cooper took a set of lethal-looking pliers and clamped down on Merle's forefinger nail. He didn't stand on ceremony, but gave an almighty tug and Merle clenched every muscle he could move in an effort to not make a sound as he felt the nail roots straining and protesting against the pliers. It took a good two minutes of twisting and wrenching, but Cooper finally pulled the nail free and Merle let out a soft gasp.
As Cooper displayed the nail on the table in front of him and took hold of Merle's middle fingernail, Merle heard himself laugh.
"Think this's funny, asshole?" asked Cooper.
"I cut my own hand off with a dull saw blade, numbnuts. This ain't nothin'," said Merle with a grin of satisfaction.
That didn't stop Cooper from taking the nails from Merle's middle and ring finger and by the third, Merle was sweating profusely to prevent himself from making a sound.
"Moving on, then," said Negan as he observed Merle. "Tell me the truth of this, Merle: did your brother die because you fucked up?"
This was a question Merle hadn't expected. He had only anticipated mindless orders, not questions. He hesitated to react in any way, and Negan took it as a sign of weakness.
"Looks like a yes to me. The shit you got into put both of you in front've the bullet, but he's the one that ate it. Did he shoot himself, or did you pop him in the head, because that hole in his skull was a good four inches. And before you ask, I found out by digging up his grave at the prison and having a look."
Digging up his grave. Negan had violated Daryl's resting place.
"And I took a piss on it," added Cooper.
Merle head-butted Cooper in the groin and yanked the pliers out of his hand, closing the metallic prongs down on Cooper's nose and ripping off a section of skin. Denunez struck Merle across the back of the head and the force knocked him over. Dragging Merle back upright, Denunez slammed his face down onto the table as Negan began to drawl, almost lazily, about Merle's next punishment.
"Are you familiar with the concept of flaying, Merle? It's kinda medieval, but it was a reserved form of torture but nowadays we call it skinning. It's what we do to animals at the bottom of the food chain."
Negan slid an array of immaculately sharpened knives out from behind him and chose one at random, holding it out to Franco.
"Leave his face for last," said Negan, sticking a cigar into the corner of his mouth, biting off the tip, and lighting it.
Cool metal rubbed against one side of Merle's face and he tried to focus on that one sensation as Franco ripped off his overshirt and selected a patch of skin along Merle's spine to start. The blade touched the sparse hairs along Merle's back and he gave an involuntary arch as his body sensed the pain about to come. The first inkling of something abnormal was the sensation of burning skin after holding ice for too long: numb at first and then a simultaneous fiery and icy stab of pain. Then reality set in and Merle bit down on his lower lip to swallow his scream.
When Franco had taken the strip of skin, he took an awl and held it to Merle's elbow bone briefly before digging it in centimeter by centimeter until he let go of it and Merle saw the tool sticking into his elbow without any support. It was the same treatment for Merle's thumb before Franco took another patch of skin from Merle's chest, just above his rib bones. This time, however, Franco dangled the loose bit of flesh in front of Merle's face so that Merle got the stench of his own blood and promptly heaved, throwing up his baby food meal.
"I'm not asking for much here, Merle, just a little respect," said Negan over the sounds of Merle vomiting. "I understand that you're upset over the jabs at your brother's death, but he's dead and he's been dead for a while. Words can't hurt him anymore than another bullet can. But you, anything can hurt you and the people you're close to. I can hurt those people."
"I ain't got people," Merle spat, tasting bile on his tongue.
"Then Rick was a liar, wasn't he? He claimed you, made it clear to me that you weren't the leader, but that you belonged to them. And you looked ready to die for any of them there that night. You went back to the prison with them and then came here with one of them. You've all but taken a bullet for that one, so wanna try to tell me again that they're not your people?"
"They ain't."
Negan knocked on the table with Lucille and the deafening clatter echoed for several seconds before Merle heard a scream. The door to the sideroom opened and Simon appeared briefly, tossing something to Negan before slamming the door shut. Negan held up what he had caught and Merle saw the fresh blood stains on it.
A finger.
"You mean to tell me that the man who this finger belongs to means absolutely nothing to you?"
"He ain't part've this," said Merle quickly. "You let 'im go."
"So you claim him, then? You take responsibility for him?"
"Whatchoo're doin' t'me ain't got nothin' t'do with 'im. Leave 'im outta this."
"Answer my question, Merle. Do you claim Milton as your people?"
"Merle!"
It was a small cry, but it was enough, and it was followed by the unmistakable sound of something hitting flesh.
"Son've a bitch!"
Merle made a grab for Negan, but Denunez and Cooper wrestled him back down and Franco began to cut out another strip of flesh, this time on the back of Merle's neck. A sharp cry emitted from Merle's throat.
"We're getting there. Keep going," prompted Negan.
Franco took a firm grasp of Merle's hair and had touched the blade to the skin in an attempt to begin scalping him when Merle heard another outcry from inside the other room, followed by what sounded like an electric saw.
"No, stop, stop…don't—Merle, just do as he says. No, no!"
Milton's cries turned to ear-shattering screams as the saw continued to cut, but Merle couldn't tell what, and that, coupled with Milton's pleas, was enough to make Merle shout for Negan to stop.
"Let 'im go!"
"If he's not one of your people, you don't have to worry about how much pain he's in, do you?" asked Negan over the sound of the saw. "But don't worry; my aim isn't to kill him. After all, it's not like he's your brother and you can control whether or not he dies. He's nothing to you, right?"
"Andrea!"
The flashback hit Merle like an anvil. He was standing in the Woodbury lab as the Governor violated Andrea and she begged Merle to go to Milton even as the Governor shoved himself inside of her. And in the neighboring room, Milton heard her cries and screamed for her. In his absolute moment of pain, he called for the woman he loved.
"Stop," said Merle faintly.
"What?" asked Negan, cupping his hand around his ear.
Franco cut into Merle's head with the scalping blade.
"Stop," cried Merle, unable to bear the agony of having the flesh removed from his skull.
"ANDREA!"
"You're gonna have to speak up, champ, I can't hear you!" Negan thundered.
Merle couldn't get the words out. He was choking on the blood in his throat and a vision of himself being waterboarded with his own blood came to mind. In full panic, his firm, unwavering determination and untarnished pride both took a suicide dive out the window.
"STOP!" Merle gagged.
"What's that?"
"Please, stop!"
"That's enough!" Negan hollered, and his men backed away, leaving Merle sobbing for breath as the air itself seemed to pierce at his exposed flesh.
Negan took a knee beside Merle and used the tip of Lucille to tilt Merle's face up so that every tear stain on his cheeks, the redness to his eyes, and the utter broken quality was visible.
"Now you understand, don'tcha, Merle? You don't get to live if you don't conform. Your friends all got it much quicker than you after I split Rick's head open. Milton got it real quick, and look at how far he's come. He's taking one for the team so that you'll get the message, so I expect you to give him an apology after this. But you're a special case, and I can't break you in the same way I'm breaking Milton in. Now, I wanna hear you say the words, or we'll start all over again. Tell me, who do you belong to?"
He couldn't say it. If he did, his life was forfeit. This was all he had, and if he couldn't claim to be his own man, he should have just let The Saviors skin him alive.
"You."
Negan rapped on the table again and Simon opened the side door. And out came Milton, rubbing his throat, but otherwise looking unscathed. He still had nine fingers, not eight, and Negan had even given him back his glasses so that Milton would be sure to catch Merle in his moment of defeat.
"And the Oscar for best vocal work goes to—my man, Milton!" announced Negan, drawing Milton to him and throwing an arm around him in a genial fashion. "See, Merle, he's just fine. And now that you're fully on board, both of you are gonna be star pupils, aren't you? Say yes."
"Yes," said Merle, but with hate raging in his heart for what Milton had done to him.
"Good boy. Simon, have Doc Kimura give Merle a quick patch up and then send him to bed. Oh, and Merle, one more thing: I need to get a kneel outta you."
His hands were slippery with blood, his own blood, but Merle fumbled his way onto one knee, trembling and knowing full well that he was beaten all because Milton happened to be a superb actor.
"And I'll be taking those," said Negan, plucking the glasses off of Milton's nose.
Merle couldn't stop his hand from shaking as Doctor Kimura tended to his injuries with minimal supplies. He was hardly aware of Denunez and Cooper taking him back to his cell or the jokes they made at his expense as they went. But as they chained Merle and Milton together and closed the refrigerator door for the night, Merle found the strength that had evaded him in the meat room.
His heavily bandaged hand found Milton's shirt and his appendage delivered a punch straight to Milton's cheek. And again. And again. He was merciless, ruthless, unforgiving as he beat the living shit out of Milton for what he had done, for betraying Merle's trust in place of Negan's approval. All they had suffered together, their plans to fight back, were all for naught because Milton had his own agenda. And what infuriated him more than anything was the fact that Milton didn't even try to fight back—until a fist flew up and blindsided Merle.
"Merle, listen to me!"
"Fuck you!" screamed Merle, feeling his vocal chords rip as he tried to hit Milton again, to kick him or bite him, anything to make him suffer as Merle had. "Y'fuckin' backstabbin' piece've shit!"
"I did it to protect you!" Milton insisted.
"Shut the fuck up!"
"Tonight was your last chance or he was going to kill you if I didn't do something!"
"So why the fuck d'you care?" Merle demanded, securing a hold on Milton's shirt again and raising his stump, but waiting for Milton to provide him with a bullshit excuse.
Milton was quiet for a moment, but when he answered, he had that no-bullshitting expression that Merle had seen but once before, what seemed like an eternity ago, when he had asked Merle why Merle went to such lengths to protect him over Daryl.
"Because you're a part of my family and I'll do anything to keep my family safe."
This proclamation was the one thing Merle was not ready for. Up until tonight, he had considered himself and Milton to be friends, this much he had admitted, but to go as far as to accept Merle as family was something Merle didn't believe him capable of and certainly not why Merle believed Milton had betrayed him. Milton had done it so that Negan would see how devoted Milton was to the Savior cause if it meant returning to Andrea.
"Negan told me that I had to do whatever I thought was necessary to break you. He said I had one chance left, just like you, to shatter you, or you would be cut down and he'd make me watch. He gave me the chance to save you and damned if I didn't take it. I didn't do it to prove anything to him or try to persuade him that I was his. It wasn't just about my wants or needs, it wasn't just about Andrea; it never has been. Everyone in that prison, Elliot, Erica, Tate, they're all mine, do you understand? My family. You were a part of that long before you left and just because you're in this shithole with me now doesn't mean you've stopped belonging to it. I've killed for you and done worse. I'm here because of you, and I don't mean in this warehouse; I mean alive. You're mine, too, Merle, and nothing you say will change that. I was given your life in the palm of my hand and I alone knew what would bring you to your knees, so I did what I had to for that to happen. This was my responsibility."
Milton's eyes watered, though it might have been from the strain of trying to pick out features on Merle's face as he stood there, nearly blind without his glasses.
"Negan doesn't make empty threats. He told me that it would be a slow death and that I'd have to take part in it if you didn't give in. I was going to have your blood on my hands either way, but I'd prefer for you to be alive and hate me than to be dead because I couldn't help you. If you want to fault me for fighting for you, go right ahead, and fuck yourself while you're at it."
A few moments of tense silence followed before Milton squinted and said, "Well, say something; I can't see you."
But Merle had nothing to say. Words couldn't be formed to do justice to the rapid-fire swell of emotions and thoughts coursing through Merle in this moment. He slowly sank onto his knees and then sat, hanging his head. What was there left to do? What action could bring this gory, heart-wrenching rollercoaster of a night to an end? From non-speaking terms to pleading for Milton's life, from discovering his betrayal to finding out that Milton was far more devoted to Merle than Merle ever could have imagined, Merle only had enough strength in him to make one more conscientious decision.
He reached out blindly as he kept his eyes closed and his mutilated fingers found Milton's arm. He grasped it.