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XXV. Cain, Abel

His brother and him are checking pictures of naked ladies they stole from his father. Or more like his brother is looking at them and handing him the ones he's already done with. Daryl has pouted about it just to have his brother punch him hard on the back of the head.

He sighs, throwing the ones he has to the floor. This is boring. He doesn't understand why his bro is so interested in them.

"Can we do sumthin' else?"

"Like what?"

"Don' know, maybe hunt fer squirrels with a shovel!"

"Ya go hunt fer squirrels with a shovel an' leave me be Darleena Ballerina."

"Don' call me that!" Daryl shouts clenching his small fists. His brother laughs.

"Or what?!" He comes very close to his face, and Daryl shrinks. The last time he tried to hit Merle he ended up with a split lip.

His brother's teasing is interrupted by a sudden bang on the door of the next room that tells both kids their father's home. They freeze in fear, Merle's hand quickly flying to his brother's back protectively. A few seconds of silence. Maybe he's passed out.

And then the roar and the heavy steps walking towards their door.

"Shit!" Merle's strong hands are dragging a little Daryl across the floor and shoving him into the closet.

"Merle..."

"Shut up, lil' rascal! Ya stay 'ere, don' move, don' make a sound, understood?!" Daryl nods, tears streaming down his eyes.

The door in front of him closes and their father storms into the room.

"Where's that lil' rat a yer brotha?! Answer me!"

"Or what?! What'ya gon' do, bitch?!"

The shouting continues until his father punches Merle, throwing him to the floor.

"Ya better beg the lord fer mercy, ya son of a cocksuckin' bitch!"

"I ain' gonna beg! I ain' beggin' ya! I'll never beg ya!" the teen screams.

And then it's down to blows thrown back and forth until his father is brutally hitting an unmoving body.

Little Daryl cries silently, looking through the crevice of the closet-door as his father beats Merle unconscious. His figure is now gone, but Merle is still lying there. Not a teenager anymore, but a man of around forty. Thirty-five year old Daryl tries to open the door he's hiding behind, but it's stuck. Desperate, he punches and kicks it, but it doesn't give in.

He hears his brother whisper from his corner.

"I never begged ya, not once... I ain' gonna beg ya now..." He looks at him, his face bloody and contorted with pain. "Ain' nobody but me. No one besides ya an' me. Nobody will love ya but me."

"Merleee!"

The door to the room opens again and a bunch of hicks break through, tommy guns in their hands aimed towards his brother.

Daryl's screams are drowned by the sound of bullets hitting flesh. Suddenly his brother is gone, his severed hand the only part of him laying on the dirty floor.

The door doesn't open and the walls close in on him as he starts losing his shit.

"Merle!" He cries out, but his brother is gone. "Merle! Don't leave me! Don't leave meee!"

He wakes up with a jolt, covered in sweat, tears burning the back of his eyes. An unknown warm body is wrapped around him and he suddenly remembers who he is sleeping next to.

"Michonne…"

"Hush, baby. It's over." Her hand brushes his tears away and he just now realizes he's been crying. He puts an arm around her and presses her body against his, trying to find some comfort.

His head pounds with his name: Merle, Merle… don't leave brother…

"I'm sorry…"

"Shhh, it's ok." She presses her lips against his. "You have night terrors too?"

He can't see her face in the darkness, but he knows she's concerned about him.

"Haven' had 'em in a long time." He lies. She kisses him again, pressing his body against the bed.

"Want me to make you feel better?" Her lips go down his neck to his collarbone and chest. He gulps, vulnerable. "Tell me baby."

"Ya don' hafta." He tries to hide his need for comfort; for her. But his shaky voice gives him away. She kisses him tenderly and starts stroking him until he's up.

"I'll make you feel better." She travels further downwards until her mouth engulfs him and his breath catches in his throat. He forgets about Merle and his pain, there is only her in this crazy world. Her and the way she makes him feel.

She works him until he comes and when he's sated she lays her head against his chest, gently kissing it. She waits until his breathing normalizes.

„You wanna tell me? " His hand strokes her hair.

"Come 'ere." He takes her in his arms and she cuddles right next to him, her back against his chest as he tightly wraps himself around her. He kisses her shoulder and starts talking about him.

Her body in between his arms gives him comfort as years of pain and regrets flow through his memory.

Merle, that son of a bitch.

His brother, the only person he had in this world for a long time.

A messed up man, a man who cut his wings hundreds of times, who dragged him down with him, who left him every time he needed him the most.

And yet...

He was the only one who gave a shit about him during his childhood, the one who taught him most of what he knows now, the one who got in between him and his pa when the motherfucker got home drunk and wanted to punch anything that moved.

Merle's back protected him from blows, and Merle's hands taught him to get things done, and Merle's harsh words made him a man.

And when his time came to do something right for him, he failed. When he tried to save his brother, teach him a better way, make him worth something, he guided him to his destruction.

He failed miserably.

"It's not your fault, my love."

Yes, it is.

Merle sacrificed himself for him. He stayed behind on that mission knowing he would never come back. And the only thing Daryl found when he came with reinforcement to pick him up was his bloody severed hand lying on the floor of a dirty basement.

Finding him dead would've been better. At least it would've given him some kind of closure.

This... this doesn't tell him anything. And he is aching to know what happened.

He ends up shaking with silent sobs again, Michonne holding him tightly. He presses his lips against hers in the darkness and moves on top of her, looking for a way to forget about it. She welcomes him with open arms and moans loudly when he starts moving deep within her. He kisses her back sweetly to show her how much he loves her.

They make feral love countless times until he's finally exhausted and content. She likes him that way, she tells him. She'd do anything to keep him happy.

She doesn't have to do much. Having her here makes him happy.

"Ya won' leave me, will ya?"

"Never, my love. I promise you."

-o-

She's just made a promise to him. Why? She knows she can't keep it. She knows she's deceiving him every time she tells him she's going to stay with him. Not because she doesn't want to, she does. She wants to go away with him, to give him that family he never truly had, to grow old by his side. Thing is, she doesn't deserve to be this happy.

You have a second chance. Carol's voice scolds her.

No, I don't deserve to come back up.

You're gonna regret what you're doing.

That's the point.

Drawing lacy patterns on his back and listening to his soft breathing until she makes sure he's deeply asleep, she finally makes a decision.

As she dresses, she takes one remorseful look at his body lying on the bed, before walking out of the bedroom and exiting through the door. She walks quickly towards Morgan's house; the light on the window is still on and his sentinels must be rounding the periphery of the community, like always. She knocks on his door and a few instants later he answers.

"Hey, pretty girl."

"Morgan." She greets. "I need to ask for a favor."

Hey Brother - Avicii

Much too much Merle and Daryl but I can't help but write about them. I love the possibilities that come from their dramatic relationship. Sibling relantionships in general inspire me a lot. I have a brother I love very much, so yeah... I don't see Merle as a villain, I see him as a very tragic figure. He's one of my favourite characters in WD.