MILTON

"You're hyperventilating, calm down," said Phillip as they turned onto the highway.

"You—shot—him," said Milton, seeing the bullet hit Fletcher's spinal cord over and over in his head. "And then you took off without Merle—"

"Merle'll be fine. He'll make it, trust me. I could've made it too, but you couldn't have. Fletcher wasn't gonna let anyone leave without rescuing Erica, which would've gotten you killed."

"You killed Fletcher to protect me? Phillip, do not use me as your scapegoat. Don't expect me to believe that steaming pile of bullshit either. You shot a man down in front of me for no good reason and that's not something I can overlook."

"I'm not askin' you to," said Phillip. "But Fletcher was endangerin' us all and you already know how rebellious he was, how insubordinate he could be. That kind've person is dangerous to have around, no matter the circumstances. Crowley and Wade were like that, and look where they ended up. No regard for other people's safety—"

"Fletcher was nothing like Crowley and Wade. He was going back for Erica and you had no right to—"

"Right?" Phillip thundered, slamming on the brakes so that Milton nearly went flying into the windshield. "I don't have the right to eliminate a man who stands in the way've my life? I don't have the right to take whatever measures I deem necessary to ensure that I survive?

Milton had seen Phillip boil over in anger a few times, but never in a way when the anger was directed at him. He never had reason before to fear that Phillip would harm him, but the way Phillip was looking at him now made Milton very much aware of the gun pressed against Milton's thigh as Milton calculated how long it would take to draw it and shoot it if Phillip tried to hurt him now. He chose his words carefully, letting his hand drop casually into his lap to give himself better access to his sidearm if he needed it.

"Phillip, you know that I've been on your side from the beginning as your advisor and your friend, but I've noticed a change in you since we let Andrea and Michonne into Woodbury and it hasn't been for the greater good. I don't know what stress you're under or what's happened that you don't feel comfortable telling me, but you're acting reckless and that's an attribute that Woodbury can't afford to have in its leader. I'm here for you, you know that, but I can't help you or support you if you continue to act so brashly when dealing with things that deserve time and consideration to handle. Crowley's delayed imprisonment, the decision to leave Woodbury hoping that the person who let the biters in would come forward, shooting Fletcher, it's not you."

"Yes, it is, and I'm not proud've it, but it's who I am now. Y'don't get to be the same person y'were before this all started, otherwise you'll die. I can't be the same man I was and neither can you, so you'd best start makin' changes to yourself before it's too late, Milton."

Phillip turned his attention back to the road and continued to drive. Drowned out by the noise of the tires on the road, Milton felt safe enough to let out the breath he had been holding in anticipation, but he never moved his hand any further from his pistol the whole way back to Woodbury.

/ /

Milton had his first true nightmare that night. He felt a piece of burning-hot lead in his back and tried to remove it, but couldn't even feel any sensation below his neck. As he lay face-down in the dirt, he could hear the dead coming closer and just when he thought no help was coming, someone turned him over. It was Merle…except, it couldn't be because Merle's eyes were no longer his, but blood-filled replicas that had grown infected with yellow and green until they swelled over, spilling out pus-and-blood-filled waterfalls from the tear ducts. And there was a giant hole in Merle's chest, the results of something the size of a baseball cutting through him and taking out the section where his heart should be.

The image was absolutely terrifying and Milton opened his mouth to scream as Merle's teeth descend on him to rip out his throat.

That had been quite enough of that, and after composing himself, Milton dressed before dawn, throwing lukewarm water into his face to wake himself up and shake the nightmare out of his thoughts. He needed to be absolutely focused in the days to come and couldn't let some dream gone wrong mess with his head if he wanted to ensure the safety of the people at the prison and the innocent Woodbury citizens. In the lab, he drew up elaborate sketches of battlefield tactics, taking what he had learned from Merle and Guerrero to list all possible outcomes of an ultimate and unavoidable meeting between Phillip and Rick. He listed the people in Woodbury he knew he could trust to side with him and Merle if it came down to it and then made a separate list of soldiers he knew where absolutely loyal to Phillip. He read through the lists of various supplies in the forms of winter stock, medical items, food, weapons, ammunition, vehicles, and all other resources, making several notes in his personal notebook of how much was consumed each day and by whom. Only when his stomach gave a low grumble did he realize that he had been working well into the early afternoon, though he was surprised that Phillip hadn't come in to check on him since that was a habit of Phillip to stick his nose into Milton's work.

Stretching out, Milton took the side exit that would lead him to the ivy-grown alley and as he opened the door, he had to refrain from hissing at the sunlight as it beamed him in the face with its full power. Blinded, he felt his way along the brick wall until his sight returned, and at the same moment, he bumped headlong into Becky.

Tousle-haired and watching Milton with what Merle would have called "resting bitch face", Becky blocked Milton off from going further and Milton was horrified to see that she had hold of a weapon again, though this was tucked into the front of her pants and not sitting in a holster, which told him that she had stolen it just like the last one Milton had confiscated from her.

"Off to see Merle?" she asked, glaring at him as if he had done her a personal wrong.

"Merle's not back from the run yet," said Milton automatically, defaulting to the fib that Phillip had ordered him to tell anyone who asked about Merle, Erica, and Fletcher.

"Yes, he is. Just pulled up in a car like he did yesterday. Damn, that man is super fine when he comes back from runs." Becky bit wistfully at her lip as she glanced over her shoulder. "He said Erica and Fletcher didn't make it, though, which makes three people who've gone missing or died in two days while out on a run with Merle, so remind me never to go anywhere with him."

"You won't listen to that advice even though it's your own because you still fancy him," said Milton, trying to move around her.

"Knowing him, he probably launched himself on Andrea and then killed her. Did the same to Erica, and Fletcher saw, so Merle had to kill him."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" asked Milton, disgusted. "Seriously, Becky, I believe that you have some sort of mental illness, and I strongly suggest going to see Doctor Stephens to get some medical help because you're a danger to yourself and everyone around you."

Becky dropped all pretenses and launched into what she had obviously come to say to Milton as she took a step toward him and he mirrored her, except in the opposite direction. "Look, I know you wanted to fuck Andrea and you're mad as hell that Merle got to her first, just like I'm pissed that she got Merle before I got the chance to have him, so since we're both panning for people we can't have, why don't we compensate? I know you want to do it at least once before you die, but Andrea's not here anymore, so you'll just have to settle for me."

"I already told you once to leave me alone, and I'd rather not have to tell you again."

Becky had backed him into the wall so that Milton could smell the cheap fragrance on her that she used to waft in the other soldier's faces as she flaunted by. The smell gagged him as Becky put her hands on his chest and grinned menacingly.

"I can roleplay as Andrea if it'll get you in the mood and I'm already sensing a little bit of Merle's attitude in you, so this can work out for both of us."

Her hand found Milton's crotch, but before she could squeeze, he had grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her away, shaking in fury. How dare she comment so nonchalantly about Merle and rape and then proceed to force herself on him like that? He had half a mind to do something more drastic, but that sort of action wasn't in his character and he could never forgive himself if he did anything to physically hurt her, no matter how despicable of a woman she was. All he had to use against her were words, and those he was well-versed in the usage of.

"Dammit, keep your fucking hands off of me, do you understand? If you ever touch me like that again, I'll build you a cell myself right next to Crowley who's doing time for sexual assault. I'm not your rebound plaything as you mope about not finding another victim and if I find a shred of proof that you've done this to anyone else in this town, you'll never come out of that cell. The world doesn't have room for sexual predators like you, so stay the hell away from me."

Milton began to walk away, but then reached back and swiped the pistol out of Becky's belt. "And another thing; one more instance of you stealing from the armory and I'll have your rations cut for a month. You haven't earned this and you don't deserve it."

He brushed past her, knowing full well that she could cry wolf and say that Milton had hit her, but it was his word against hers and she not only had no marks on her, but Milton had a reputation as the most timid, reserved man in town and that would actually work in his favor if Becky chose to make a big thing out of this for the attention or to make Milton be the one placed behind bars so that she could visit him in the lonely hours of the night.

Once out on the main street, Milton saw a car parked in front of the infirmary, though he didn't see Merle. He did, however, see Daryl being lectured by Phillip down by the lounge and after Phillip had said his piece, he turned away so that he didn't see the middle finger Daryl threw at him. Hastening to Daryl's side, Milton dragged his arm down, causing Daryl to react like he had been electrocuted.

"Hey, paws off—"

"You can't just flip someone the bird if you don't agree with them, especially not the Governor," said Milton anxiously. "If someone were to see you—"

"Let 'em see. I don't take no shit from no Governor. I ain't gonna play loyal pooch neither. If he says somethin' t'me that I don't like, I ain't gonna sit here an' take it like the rest've these dumbasses."

"Daryl," said Milton slowly as he prayed for patience with this younger, less-broken-in version of Merle, "you agreed to come back here to help us, not start a personal vendetta against the Governor. You need to follow your brother's lead and mine, and that doesn't involve making faces and adolescent gestures behind people's backs like a six year old."

"Watch it, Sunshine, or my knife'll rip you a new one," said Daryl, fingering the knife at his belt.

"Hey," said Merle, striding up to them in a confrontational manner that told Milton immediately that he was in serious trouble. "The hell'd you say t'my brother, Miltie?"

Milton couldn't say he was surprised to see Merle since Phillip had assured him that Merle survived the attack on the barn, but Merle looked like he hadn't slept for days as untidy stubble grew out all over his face and dark bags under his eyes puffed out, giving him the unhealthy look of someone who needed sunlight, but couldn't absorb any. He had no blood on him, which was a first for Merle, so that Milton had to wonder if he had managed to save Erica, regardless of what Becky said, but if he had, where was she now? Was it possible that he had taken her to the prison? With Merle, it was highly plausible, especially since he would have wanted to see Andrea again, but even if he had gone there, he hadn't stayed. He chose to come and face Phillip again to tell him that he had tried to save Erica but couldn't and see if Phillip believed yet another bucket of blatant lies. How long could Merle keep this façade up before Phillip put him down like an unfaithful, rabid dog just like he'd done to Fletcher when Fletcher had chosen his friends over Phillip?

"This little shit thinks he's the only one in the whole town who don't got his head up his ass. Don'tchoo tell me my business," said Daryl, heartened by his brother's presence.

"It's nothing you need to be concerned about," said Milton to Merle in an effort to diffuse the tension. "I was merely reminding your brother that this isn't his old camp and he can't walk around with disgust for Phillip written all over his face and not expect repercussions. If we want to do what we came back to do, having Captain Obvious here strut the streets looking like he wants to put an arrow in Phillip's head isn't going to help."

"Y'keep your damn mouth shut, y'hear me?" said Merle, crossing that invisible barrier that he loved to breach so often to get up in people's faces and make them cower under his murderous glare. "Y'don't get t'say nothin' t'Daryl."

"C'mon, Merle, leave 'im t'kiss that bastard's ass," said Daryl, but Merle gave Daryl a shove in the shoulder.

"This goes beyond anythin' he said t'you, man, this's personal. You look here, Miltie, I don't wantchoo talkin' t'my brother, unnerstand? Y'don't give 'im no orders, y'don't tell 'im nothin'. Stay the hell away from 'im an' keep the fuck outta my way or I'll beat your ass into the ground."

Milton only felt rage as he stood there and took the verbal abuse. He was already fueled by his confrontation with Becky and the satisfaction of seeing her cocky persona crumble. Standing up to Merle was just another altercation that was a long time in the making. Long gone were the days where Merle could force him to avert his gaze and mutter an apology. He was so sick of being the victim, being belittled because he didn't have the physical figure to make Merle see him as a threat and if they wanted to remove Phillip from power, they needed to consider one another as equals, not whatever the hell system they had going on right now.

"Okay, Merle, you want to make this personal? I think you've been screwed up ever since Andrea came to Woodbury and I think that you're sexually frustrated because you finally said or did something that got her into bed with you and a few days later, she takes off to be with her own people and it pisses you off because you couldn't control her like she was some floozy you picked up on a street corner. I think your masculinity is threatened because your charm wasn't enough to keep her here, so you feel the need to remind everyone in town that you're not to be fucked with when in reality it comes across as a desperate attempt to keep your status as the hard-assed, dumb-as-shit, inbred piece of trash that you are on top of being an emotionless lapdog to Phillip that throws a tantrum whenever he doesn't get his way."

Milton didn't know why Merle let him spew the whole thing out when he half-expected Merle to punch him after the first sentence, but Merle waited, and when Milton had said his piece, then Merle hit him. His hand came in from the left and made contact with Milton's eye, knocking off his glasses. The second blow was delivered from Merle's elbow as it flew up from below in a surprise uppercut. Blindsided, Milton stumbled, seeing the metal rims on his glasses reflect the sunlight as they fell on the cobblestone sidewalk, but instead of picking them up, Milton threw his arms out and grabbed Merle around the waist so that they both toppled off the sidewalk and went down on the asphalt street.

Merle's hand found Milton's gut and pummeled it twice before Milton managed to throw him off and elbow Merle hard in the chest. He felt someone grab his shoulder, but Merle shouted at the culprit to back away and then seized his hair, yanking hard until Milton felt at least five hairs part company with his scalp. Milton yelped like a beaten animal, swiping blindly at Merle with his fists, but to no avail as Merle's hold on him tightened. Despite the strain on his head, Milton forced himself to focus and think of the most vulnerable parts of the body that he could reach as Merle tried to yank all of the hair out from the top of his skull. Flattening out his hand perpendicular to the ground as if he was going to high-five Merle in the face, Milton pressed the flat of his palm to Merle's nose and pressed in and upward against the bone and sensitive muscle. Instant tears of pain appeared in Merle's eyes, but to his credit, he tried to hold off as long as he could so that Milton could actually see him deliberating whether or not a broken nose was a reasonable price to pay for keeping hold of Milton's hair.

He let go and Milton fell back, nursing his aching head as Merle turned onto his stomach and felt for blood under his nose. Milton felt someone step on his fingers as they walked past him to see if Merle was alright and as Milton went to sit up, a shadow blotted out the sun. He blinked up, spreading out his hand to search for his glasses the better to look up with.

Someone's hand offered them out to him and he muttered a thank you, carefully replacing the glasses on his face in time to see Tate give him a frightened glance before hurrying off and as Milton saw the shadow over him, he could see why. Phillip had his arms folded, glaring down at Milton like a father severely disappointed in a son who didn't make the football team, except Phillip's rage was simmering just below the surface at the sight of Milton and Merle's squabbling less than a day after he had warned Milton to stay in line or else risk consequences.

Oh, fuck it, though Milton, throwing caution to the winds.

"Alright, alright, I started it, is that what you want to hear? I threw a punch and I had no good reason to other than to earn myself some much-needed and long-awaited satisfaction, but you can't tell me that he didn't have it coming and I'm not going to apologize."

"Shove it up your ass," called Merle, flipping back over so that Milton could see two bright red trails running out of his nostrils.

"This is the town street, Milton, not the pit fights. If y'wanna fight Merle, sign up, but otherwise, keep your hands off've him and I'll make sure he does the same. I'm lettin' you off with a warnin' because in any civilized society equipped to deal with a brawl like that, one or both've you could face jail time. Now, get up, and walk away. I don't want you two anywhere near each other 'til you can learn to respect each other and not hurtle insults at each other among other things. If you're gonna act like children, that's how you're gonna be treated."

Milton got to his feet, massaging the two rapidly swelling bumps over his eye from where Merle had hit him. He waited until Phillip had moved on and Daryl had taken Merle off the street before he moved off toward the infirmary with a goal in mind. If Phillip was going to accuse Milton of acting below the law when Phillip had been the one to shoot a man in the back after a failed attempt to find Andrea and bring her back so that Phillip could rape her, Milton was going to do something to actually earn his accusation.