Time warning – I seem to have taken a quantam leap in chapter size (and Author notes as well!) over the last few, and that seems to have followed through for the next few. Not sure how long the idea dirrohea will continue, but you may wish to do the toilet stop now.
Chapter 34
She woke crying, an overwhelming sadness encompassing her whole being. Dog whined, licking her face again as she gasped suddenly. It was still dark – pitch black except for the two low burning lamps, she knew she'd awoken well before dawn again. She stifled another sob and buried her face into the pillow – the last thing she wanted to do was wake up the others, but she just couldn't stop crying – and as they do, tears were begetting tears and she was crying harder. Dog bounced off the bed as she swung her legs out, simply walking out of the blankets with no regard for where they fell, and stepping out of the tent. The icy air hit her in the face, almost freezing the tears on her face, but the new ones tumbled out. She took a deep shuddering breath – but to no avail as the sadness hit her again. She turned and walked, not really knowing where her feet were taking her.
Merle yawned, rubbing his eyes as he made his way back to his tent after the shift. It had been quiet again – he hadn't sighted (although given the limited light offered by the last slip of the moon, perhaps heard or smelt were the appropriate senses) any geeks on the main watch, although he'd picked up another couple on the wider sweep earlier in the day through the stock's paddock. He pushed aside the flap of the tent and sat down on the bunk, placing the gun up near the pillow so he could reach it if need be. He shrugged off the jacket that Marion had brought back from the car, then his vest and the long sleeve shirt he wore over the top of the t-shirt. He reached down and yanked at the laces of his boots, quickly tightening them into a mess and cursed, grimacing as he toed them off. He unslipped the belt and the button of his jeans, standing to push them down to the ground, leaving him only in his underwear and socks. He sat down, yawning and reached back for the blankets.
There was a noise and he tensed bit early you pricks he thought with satisfaction, reaching for the gun and bringing it to his shoulder. He had suspected that the snoring excuse was merely a ruse to get him alone – to deal with him, although he had to admit to some disappointment that Samson would be party to something like that. Come on then – see what ol' Merle can do.
Dog bounced in through the opening and growled at the sight of Merle with the gun. "Wha' tha fuck?" he said even as the flap opened again and Marion walked in, clad in one of those all encompassing dresses that the other women wore during the day and she at night, then the flap shut and he couldn't see a damn thing.
"Merle?" she said in a choked voice.
"Here," he said, reaching over to place the gun back on the ground, his breath catching Hold up big brother came a caution and he focused on what he could hear. Marion bumped into him, and he caught her as she stumbled, her head planted in the curve between his neck and shoulder and he could feel the wetness of her tears as well as hear them. "Wha's wrong?" he demanded. "Did someone – did he...?'
Marion was shaking her head, even as she sat on his knee, placing her arms around his neck. "No."
"Then why are ya cryin' woman?" he demanded.
"I don't know!" she almost wailed, her upper body shaking even as her tears intensified.
Merle blinked. Wha' tha fuck? Slowly and rather uncertainly, he closed his arms around her, picking up her legs and slinging them over his other leg so she was fully in his lap. She didn't protest, in fact she seemed to bury herself closer into him. "It's alright woman," he murmured. "Ya safe."
Marion cried into his shoulder, feeling him envelop her and his soft words in her ear even as he, slightly roughly, rubbed at her back. Dog licked at her hands on his back and gradually she was able to recover herself, the tears drying up slowly. But she didn't move, he was actually almost rocking her and it was soothing. She turned her head so that her forehead was against his neck, feeling the wetness of her tears on his shirt on her cheek. "Sorry about that," she murmured.
"'s alright," he muttered. "Dream?"
She nodded, her head pushing into him with the movement. "I can't remember what it was though."
"Ya got a few ta choose from," he shrugged.
"I suppose I had better go back," she suggested half heartedly after a few minutes, feeling the warmth of his arms on her back and against the side of her breast, the warmth of his chest against her right side, the warmth of his legs underneath her. Her feet were freezing though and she shivered.
"Prob'bly," he agreed, but didn't release her. She was breathing more normally now, he could feel the curve of her breast against his right arm, her breath against his neck. "Ya could stay 'ere," he proposed almost in a whisper. He felt her stiffen just a little. "Ya up before any of 'em anyway," he continued. "Ya'll never get warm again after walkin' back t'ere again."
She was still for a few moments and then she moved her legs, one at a time, off him and he released her. Fuck. Well what did ya expect - just cause ya gave 'er a cuddle she going ta throw herself at ya? He hung his head then turned suddenly as she crawled behind him, up to his pillow, Dog moving out of her way and curling up into her hips, his ears pricked. Merle shook himself and turned to lay beside her, dragging up his blankets and sliding his body along next to her, wincing just a bit as her feet tucked up against his. He propped his left hand under his head and his right stump over her belly, feeling the weight of Dog against it. He had a moment for the fact that his back was to the tent flap watch it ya pricks – tha guard Dog is on duty.
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Marion sighed. "I'm not with Merle like that Joanna."
"But ... this morning?" she argued.
This morning had been a disaster. They had slept past dawn – it had been an hour after dawn that the others had realised she was missing, when the horses got in the way of the cows and they realised she hadn't been to feed them and they had looked in the communal women's tent, in the shower – and had not found her. It had been another hour before anyone had thought to ask Merle and she blushed slightly as she remembered.
Merle had stirred at Dog's growl, and she had woken with not only his gruff "I'm fuckin' sleepin' 'ere kid – it had betta be bloody important" and the removal of his arm from between her breasts (where it seemed to almost gravitate to during the night) but also the other signs of his body awakening.
"It's Miss Marion," had gasped Ben, his eyes still adjusting in the darkness of the tent from the bright sunshine outside. "She's missing!"
"No she ain't," had grumbled Merle. "Piss off and let us sleep."
Realisation had hit Ben and Marion at the same time. He had flushed a shade of peony; she had sat up abruptly with an "Oh Shit!" She flung back the blankets – Dog yelped as he disappeared under them and she tried to turn around, finding her legs and nightgown tangled with Merle's legs. Merle tried to help, ended up getting an elbow in the chest and lay back – his arms over his head, groaning as her body brushed over his and he discovered that she did not sleep in underpants. Ben turned quickly as he was given much more vision of her upper thighs than he was ready for and Dog had dashed after her, dragging Merle's blankets onto the ground before they finally dropped off as he dashed through the flap.
The women had greeted her with relief, but a multitude of questions had then to be answered. Deborah had appeared to be satisfied with her explanation of what had happened; Marion suspected though that she had gone to Ben for verification, but she had still been confused as to why it had happened. To them it would have been much simpler, and more acceptable, if she'd just woken one of them up. Marion hadn't been able to explain it, she was slightly mystified herself, but at the time it had felt right.
"I slept next to him Joanna – not with him," she said almost tiredly. "There's a whole world of difference between the two phrases."
"But Ben said you shared a shower!"
That was just downright wrong. She had been late to the showers, the men were just finishing and she had stayed to the side as they came out.
"Good morning Miss Marion," had said Caleb, his eyes greedily taking in her skivvy and jeans form. "I hear that you slept well earlier today?"
"Better than in a long time," she replied edgily and his lip twitched in anger.
"Ya comin' or wha' woman?" drawled Merle. "Or am I 'olding t'is door for fuckin' Casper?"
Caleb gritted his teeth and walked past her, almost bumping her in the shoulder and she smiled at Merle. "Thanks."
"Sure t'ing sugar," he replied, his eyes on the retreating figure with hostility. "Don't get used ta it!"
"I didn't shower with him at all," she refuted now to Joanna.
"But he didn't come back until you did," Joanna argued.
Marion blinked. Really? "Well he must have had something else to do," she replied.
"So you don't want to marry him?" asked Joanna.
Marion laughed. "No sweety, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind!" she said with total truth, not seeing the calculating look that entered the younger girl's eyes.
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Oh brown Rosie, Rose of Alabamy, The sweet tobacco posey is the Rose of Alabamy whistled Merle, his song paused as he grunted with effort underneath the tractor. Daryl used to hate it when he whistled that song, he remembered, Yar in fuckin' Georgia but he'd always had a soft spot for it hell if Clint Eastwood liked it, it was good enough for him (1).The spot where the belt had to go was small and almost bent around at 90 degrees. His arm was stuck up in and around the corner with a wrench wrapped around the last of the nuts. There was nothing for it – he needed one more hand than he had, perhaps two. He heard the footsteps coming towards him and lifted his head.
"Fuck," he swore as he hit his forehead on the underside of the tractor.
"Hello?" asked a hesitant voice and he frowned didn't sound like Davd, lifting his head more carefully this time and looking down along his body. It was a pair of female legs and he had extracted his arm and slid himself out from under the tractor before he realised that Marion would be wearing jeans now, not one of the dresses.
"Wha' ya want?" he said gruffly as he saw it was one of the kids, a scrawny little thing with yellow hair and blue eyes, annoyed with himself.
Joanna smiled a little shyly. "I just came to see if you needed any help."
Merle blinked. "Ya want ta 'elp me fix tha tractor?"
"If that's what you need me to do," she nodded, then took her lip between her teeth nervously. "I can help you in lots of ways."
Merle shrugged. "Wha'ever blows ya horn girly – see if ya can't grab tha' hose for me."
"Which one?" she asked, confused but willing and stepped up onto the stool to get herself in a position where she could lean into the tractor.
Merle slid back under the tractor, pointing up with the wrench. "That one," he said. "No – to tha left. Yar left girly! T'at's it – now I need ya ta 'old onto it, real tight. Got it?"
"Yes," she said, pinching the hose between her forefinger and thumb.
Merle rolled onto his side, reaching his hand up into a gap – pulled back the wrench and whacked at the belt hard.
There was a squeal above him and oil spurted everywhere, running down his arm. "Grab tha fuckin' t'in'" he yelled.
"I can't!" she whimpered.
"Fuck!" yelled Merle and retracted his hand and the wrench, sliding out from under the tractor and coming up beside her – casting only a short glance at her oil covered face and dress before almost pushing her out of the way, reaching in and grabbing the hose, kinking it to stop the flow of oil.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered.
"Wha'ever," he grunted. "Grab that wrench and git under t'ere."
"Wha...?" she stammered, her eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights.
"Ya wanted ta 'elp didn't ya?" he snapped. "Well ya gotta 'elp me stop that flow now."
Joanna took one look at his face and her head dropped, she took the wrench and crawled onto the ground, pulling herself under the tractor and followed his directions to disconnect the hose so that he could release it, oil dropping on her throughout the process.
"Got it," he announced and released the hose, not paying attention to where the last of the oil in the hose went as he turned back to where all the spare parts for the tractor were, sorting through to find another hose. He didn't notice Joanna walk away, a slight quiver to her lips.
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"That wasn't nice," Marion reproved him as he scooped up the first mouthful of peas into his mouth.
He turned to her with a frown, passing his words and actions of the last few hours through his head. Even with her heightened sense of moral base, with the exception of missing mass again (and surely she had gotten over that by now), he couldn't figure out what she was speaking about.
His confusion must have translated around the peas and she leant in a little closer before he could speak. "What you did to poor Jo."
He leant forward a little to look around her to where the young girl sat – clean now, although there was a suggestion of black around her hairline. She was sitting upright and as he looked, seemed to shade slightly pink. He straightened back to Marion. "Wha'd I do?" he demanded.
"Making her help with the tractor," she replied. "She came back covered in grease, almost hysterical, saying that you swore and yelled at her."
Merle shrugged. "She said she wanted ta 'elp. Hell woman – ya've taken worse from me."
Marion's lips twitched. "She is only 16 Merle, she doesn't have either the confidence or the abilities to be able to deal with your ... er... direct way of talking."
"So wha' tha fuck did she come and ask ta 'elp for?" he snorted, putting in another mouthful of peas.
"She has a crush on you."
Merle choked, one pea going down the wrong way, one going up the wrong way and several bursting out his mouth. Marion looked over with a slight smile as he forced the lump down his throat and coughed, reaching over to hand him his glass of water even as Samson looked up with a quizzical look. "Just went down tha wrong way," he gasped after washing down what he could, putting his glass down and reaching for Marion's, downing that as well. He cleared his throat and looked at her, as she delicately picked the mixed foods off her fork. "Ya better be fuckin' wit' me woman."
"Nope," she shook her head, chewing and swallowing before answering again, even though his hand was digging into her arm. "She thinks you are the epitome of maleness. The bees knees," she added. "It's not something to be worried about Merle, you should be flattered. Being a girl's first love – that's a big thing."
"I'll be fuckin' lynched," he whispered and Marion bit her lip at the absolute horror in his face and tone. A little slip of a girl like that and he's as scared as a mouse of an alley cat!
"Only if you do something about it," she soothed.
"Ya got ta git me outta this woman," he ordered, still in a low voice.
"I'm working on it Merle," she assured him. "But she is a 16 – almost 17 – year old girl. They are a force of nature in themselves – nothing you can tell them is ever better than what they already know. It will pass though – you'll just have to watch yourself for a little while."
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"Out for a walk Jo?' enquired Marion lightly.
The girl flinched, looking up with a guilty expression. They were both dressed in nightgowns, although Marion wore her big jacket over hers, because the camp had retired to bed a couple of hours ago. Marion had in fact been asleep until Dog had growled lightly and she had awoken to see Joanna's bed empty. Surely not? she thought, the girl wouldn't be that brazen? Then again ... She had thrown off her blankets and grabbed her jacket, Dog trotting beside her as she left the tent. There was no sign of the younger girl and Marion chewed on her lip, but wth a nod had walked through the centre of the camp towards where Merle's tent sat. It had only been a matter of 30 seconds and Joanna had crept around the edge of another tent.
"I had a bad dream," she explained defensively.
"Oh sweety," exclaimed Marion with easy sympathy. "But Deborah has finished with Elijah and Samson – she came to bed a little while ago." She suppressed a grin at the girl's obvious annoyance at her interpretation of her walk and offered a smile, reaching out her hand. "Come on – I'll take you back with me."
"I'll be fine, thankyou," snapped Joanna and turned on her heel.
Dog whined, looking up at Marion and thumped his tail. She watched the girl out of sight, her forehead crinkled slightly. She looked at the tent next to her and reached forward, stepping in. After the slight light offered by the stars and dying moon, the tent was blindingly dark and she stood still, Dog at her heels, blinking to encourage her eyes to adjust. She couldn't hear anything though and she frowned, "Mere?" she whispered.
There was a noise right at her ear and she jumped. "Fuck woman," he growled. "Wha' ya doin' 'ere?"
"Expecting someone else?" she said playfully. He pretty much growled in her face, his presence looming immediately next to her. "It was a close run thing."
"Wha'?" he gasped. "She was comin' 'ere?"
"Yup," Marion suppressed a laugh at the horror in his voice, although it wasn't really all that funny. She did agree with him – if he was caught with Joanna in his tent, there would be hell to pay and he would not get much traction from the camp. "I've turned her around, I'll keep an eye out for her."
"Hell no," he exclaimed and grabbed her wrist. "Ya ain't leavin' t'is tent woman. I ain't 'aving no-one sayin' I am kiddy fiddler."
"No Merle," she pulled back even as she was moved a step along. "I can't sleep here tonight."
"Ya gittin' some shit because of last night?" he queried, but otherwise completely ignoring her as he almost dragged her towards the bed. "It won't happen again," what won't she thought in confusion. "I don't have watch t'night – I'll wake ya up in plenty o' time ta feed tha horses."
Well she had got some feedback from the other women, but nothing that she was worried about. Tonight was something different from every other night that she had slept next to him and she wasn't sure how he, how she, would deal with it. It was something only her husband had ever been privy to – she wasn't entirely sure whether she was ready to include Merle she had hidden it from the other women because it was none of their bloody business. While she was thinking however he had re-arranged the bed, moving the pillow and adjusting the blankets, all with his stump linked through her elbow as if he was afraid that she would bolt.
"Come on, git in," he ordered, sitting down.
Dog looked up and thumped his tail. Marion sighed and shrugged off her jacket as long as she was careful. At that sign of her acquiescence, Merle lay down on his left side, holding his right stump along his side as she slowly sat and then lay down next to him, pulling the blankets up over both of them with her. He tucked his arm securely around her waist and she relaxed, letting her form ease into the bed and only just touching against him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, hearing Dog pop up onto the bed, turn around and curl up inside the curve of her hips.
Merle shuffled, moving closer to her, dislodging her leg so that his knee was between her upper thighs. He felt it on his thigh even as she tensed up suddenly. He pushed harder, "Wha' tha fuck?" he breathed and reached his stump down. She flinched away, turning her hips away from him slightly but he persisted, reaching his stump down onto her hips there was something there! She squeaked and turned again, onto her back. Dog yipped as he was tipped over the edge with her movement, and Merle moved over the top of her, reaching his left hand down.
"Merle!" she gasped, reaching down and trying to capture his hand between his own as he disregarded all personal boundaries in his search. "Stop!"
"Wha' tha fuck?" he growled again. "If they've put ya in some type of chastity belt..." he finally got his hand out of hers and put it squarely between her thighs.
"Merle!" she squealed at him and shoved.
It was not what he expected and he rolled back over onto his side of the bed, Marion scrambling up and standing in front of him, her chest heaving. "Bloody hell Merle," she swore, rubbing her hands over her face. "There is just no being discreet with you is there?"
"Wha' are ya talkin' about?" he demanded, sitting up. He looked at her lower body. "Wha' 'ave they done ta ya?"
She sighed. "They've done nothing' to me you twit. I have my period – OK?"
"Oh," he blinked, silent for a few moment. "Fair enough," he yawned and lay back down. "Come on t'en."
She stared at him for a moment, the edges of her mouth twitched and her eyes twinkled. Fair enough he says. As if there was nothing more to it. And there probably isn't. So she lay down against him again, fixing up the blankets over them. Merle wrapped his stump around her and drew her close, shoving his knee up between her thighs and heaved a sigh. He relaxed totally against her and after a while she relaxed her stiff stance. Dog jumped up again, sniffing at his place and turning around three times before finding a comfortable spot and laying down, his ears pricked at the tent flap.
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(1) From The Outlaw Josey Wales.
My poor suffering husband had pretty much the same reaction as Merle to a sobbing woman at 5.30 in the morning.
I hope I've dealt with what could be a bit crass issue delicately and in character – because really it wouldn't have rung true NOT to deal with it given the er... proximity of M&M's sleeping arrangements. I had fun with it anyway.