Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
a/n: Oh my goodness-this chapter. Whenever I write a chapter, I always have several points that I touch on, notes that I've made etc. But as I started to write the later piece of this one...it took off on a mind of its own. Merle's words just flowed out so precisely, it was all I could do to keep up with the muse and type them out. I debated for a while whether to leave 'his' section in, after all, this particular chapter was supposed to be Carol's. But I decided to leave it in, and it took me quite a few long fraught hours dragging it back away from Merle's piece, and trying to end the chapter on a more softer, happier note.
As always, I'd really like to say a huge thank you to those that have left reviews, and to those that are with me in this story.
...
Carol untangled her fingers from his hand and pulled away as they neared the door that led to C-block, stopping and frowning as Merle glowered at her. She raised her eyebrows mildly in surprise before turning her back to him and pulling the door open. She didn't want him to feel ashamed or embarrassed in front of any of the others- and she knew that once they were back inside, there would be somebody around, there always was. And she wasn't quite ready herself for the curious glances that she knew the two of them attracted.
She supposed that they made an unusual couple, and she bit back a smile as he followed silently behind her, his face pulled down into that ever persistent scowl. The face that he showed to everyone else and the one that she saw in private when it was nothing but the two of them alone in her cell were at complete odds with each other-and she wished that at times he'd at least let his guard down, even if it was just a little-then maybe the others could understand what it was exactly that drew her to him. He didn't seem to want to do himself any favors though, and most seemed to view him with suspicion or a wary reluctance, and she knew all to well that it had been like that for his brother once, what now seemed such a long time ago.
"Do you think he's okay?" she asked, glancing at him. "Out there, on his own."
Merle looked at her in confusion, his eyes squinting in the light filtering through the large barred prison windows and then he nodded slowly in understanding, "Yeah. Don't ya go worrying yer head. Little brother will be jus' fine. Told ya before-if anyone can look after themselves out there, it's him."
"I miss him Merle," she said softly. "I just want him safely back home with us."
He stepped a little closer to her, reaching out and touching at her shoulder briefly before pulling his hand back to scratch at his chin. "Me too, mouse. Me too."
Her heart tugged at the swift look of concern mirrored in his smoky blue eyes, the way his forehead crinkled thoughtfully, and she couldn't help but softly smile at him then, her amusement suddenly rising as he stared back at her, his eyes widening and his brows shooting upwards almost comically. "What?" he growled suspiciously.
She shook her head as they walked through the prison wing, "Nothing."
"Oh sure," he grumbled loudly. "Like it ain't nothin' when yer lookin' at me like that. What the hell did I do now?"
She was about to answer, when she heard the abrupt sound of raised voices, and she hurriedly stepped backwards a pace, tugging at his arm and pulling him with her, looking at him curiously.
Merle stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing, "What the-"
She shook her head again, ignoring him and listening more closely. Merle pushed against her, slapping her back to the wall and leaning close, and she tried to fight back the sudden bout of rising panic at his close proximity; the way he had her pinned to the wall. She tried to push him away-one hand pressing to his chest and he glanced down at her mildly in annoyance-the frown softening on his face and easing away as he realized what he had done, and he moved away from her, giving her some space as he pressed his finger gently to her lips, shushing her.
"You just can't make decisions like that on your own, Rick. We have the Council for that," Hershel said tightly.
Rick sighed, the sound long drawn out and audible to them both, and Carol glanced at Merle quickly as she grasped at his arm, watching as he chewed the inside of his lip thoughtfully. He dropped his finger from her mouth, pressing his hand softly to her shoulder, his head turning and following the sound of the voices.
"Something needed to be done. What if your daughters were next. Maggie? Beth? What would you have me do Hershel? We can't take the risk anymore-you saw what happened to Carol. I did what I had to-like I always do."
"Nobody asked you to do this. You've taken this upon yourself-"
"This isn't a democracy anymore, Hershel," Rick hissed quickly. "The Council were taking too long to come to a decision. I stand by what I have done."
Hershel shifted on his feet, his crutches softly scuffing the ground. "I know you Rick. I know what you are capable of."
"I didn't do anything. I left him out there. I gave him supplies-"
"He isn't well. He's injured."
Rick laughed, the sound flat and devoid of humor. "And that...that he brought on himself. I'm not going to discuss this anymore Hershel. It's done."
The dull thump of boots on the concrete floor echoed heavily towards them, and Carol tightened her hand on Merle's arm.
"Rick," Hershel called out quickly, "Rick! Come back here, son."
"I've got to go. I need to clear my head."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going out there, Hershel. I've got things...I need to do," Rick answered brusquely.
Carol stared at Merle. She didn't know what Rick had done, but she suddenly felt afraid. Afraid of what Rick had done exactly. Like Hershel-she knew what he was capable of. She still remembered Randall, Shane and what had happened back at the Greene farm. Nobody dared mention it, and especially within ear shot of Rick, but it was common knowledge within the original members of the group.
"What the hell has that asshole gone an' done now?" Merle questioned, his voice low and rasping.
"I don't know," Carol breathed out slowly.
Merle edged away from her, and she grabbed at his arm quickly, pulling him back at the sound of boots clicking sharply. Merle froze, and they watched as Rick walked around the corner towards them.
He stopped, his hand hovering at his belt, and Carol saw with some surprise that his Python was holstered at his waist, his fingers touching at the smooth wooden butt of the gun. Rick looked at her sharply, his eyes moving from her to stare at Merle. His head inclined to the side as he watched them unblinkingly, and then he nodded curtly in greeting, his eyes blazing as they dragged away from Merle to stare at her again.
His hand flexed over his gun, before moving away, and he dug his fingers into his belt. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, and Carol watched him warily, dreading and fearing what he was going to say, but he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head instead.
Tearing his eyes from the both of them, Rick didn't give either of them a second thought as he strode towards the exit, pushing the door open with the flat of his hand-the sudden sharp loud squealing of rusted unoiled hinges loud in the room, the bright sunlight flooding in and leaving him nothing but a dark shadow in its wake.
Merle glanced at Carol quickly as the door slammed shut. "What the hell has gotten into Captain fuckin' A-hole, huh?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at the doorway.
"I dread to think," she answered.
He grunted irritably, "Well, I ain't giving a shit about that fuckwad sheriff. C'mon darlin', I gotta know what the hell happened to Michonne."
She glanced once more towards the entrance, before sighing and following after Merle as he turned the corner that Hershel and Rick had so quickly vacated. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on his broad shouldered back, noticing that he'd ripped and torn yet another shirt-and she made a mental note to herself that when she found the time, she would sew and repair it the best that she could. He was just like his brother. He was wearing his way quickly through the limited amount of clothing that he had, just like Daryl, and she smiled softly to herself, knowing all to well that he would be annoyed with her for worrying over what he'd consider trivial shit. But if she didn't worry over him and his brother, then she didn't know who the hell else would-and she didn't begrudge either of them that one little bit.
The sound of soft whimpering sobbing reached to them, and she nearly bumped into Merle as he stopped abruptly, a look of pained embarrassment flushing his cheeks as he looked over his shoulder at her.
She stepped past him, stopping when he grabbed at her arm, his fingers digging into her wrist. He shook his head as he looked at her, and she stared past him, her heart aching and twisting in her chest.
Michonne was sat on the floor of her cell, her ankle wrapped in a clean white bandage and held out stiffly before her, Judith sat on her lap. Michonne's arms were wrapped around the young child, her face pressed to the side of Judith's head, hot tears trickling thickly down her cheek.
Carol swallowed quickly as she looked at Merle, and she felt tears of her own spring to her eyes. She knew of that sound, of those tears. She had cried them so many times herself. She still did. It was the sound of grief, of another woman's pain and loss of a beloved child.
"Merle, please," she said quietly, the sound of her heart jumping and yammering thickly in her ears.
"I'm hearing ya sweetheart," he said softly, his fingers loosening their tight grip from around her wrist. He looked at her in simple understanding- unspoken concern and sympathy etched into his face. His fingers caught at her hand, entwining with hers and she gripped his tightly, not really caring if anyone saw them right now. She let him propel herself forward, her feet numbly following after him, her heart aching and her mind wondering over what loss Michonne had faced and braved so resolutely, and quietly with dignity.
…
They moved through D-block silently, lost in their own individual thoughts. Merle loosened his hand from hers as he stepped towards the cells, his breath rasping tightly in his throat.
"Well...I'll be God fuckin' damned," he hissed in wonder.
"What is it?" she asked, although as soon as she turned her head, she saw...and she knew.
Scott's cell was empty. Devoid of anything. Sterile almost, as if he'd been purged from the present and from all memory. There wasn't a single sign left to show that he'd even been at the prison.
"Guess that officer not so fuckin' friendly sorted the fuck out'a that shit," Merle grunted as he glanced at her. "Ya know...if I had the use of two hands...I'd be tempted to shake Rick's hand. For what he's been gone an' done here. Only I'd be worried that bastard would try an' handcuff me again. Ya know...make me a total fuckin' useless cripple," he spat out bitterly.
She looked at him in sudden surprise, his words burning through her. Her heart twisted in her chest again, and she angrily thought that Rick had no damn idea what he had done back there in Atlanta when he had handcuffed Merle to that rooftop. Rick didn't have a clue as to how much it affected Merle every single waking hour. It hadn't happened to him, so what the hell did he know? Merle might have lost his hand-and outwardly he seemed to cope well enough, but she knew differently. She'd seen his anger, his self-loathing and frustration at not being able to do the most simplest of things that everyone else took for granted.
"Merle," she said, watching as he twisted his head to stare at her, his hand grasping at the bars of the cell.
"It ain't you, mouse," he said softly. "It ain't ever been you, or my brother. Yer...yer both my family, right?" he asked hesitantly, and she swallowed quickly at the fear that shined brightly in his eyes.
She sighed quietly, looking at the vacant cell. She wondered where Scott was, and what Rick had done, but as much as she felt the dread and uncertainty prickle at her-she knew that right now was not the time to feel sorry for herself.
"Yes," she answered simply, moving towards him. He looked at her, then glanced away quickly, his eyes downcast, and Carol remembered a time-not long before he went out and tried to take down the Governor on his own. He had looked at her just the same way that he was doing right now. She felt tears sting hotly behind her eyelids and she blinked, trying to ignore them, even as the tears tumbled down her cheeks unwillingly.
"Ain't wanting ya to be sorry for me, Carol," Merle rasped, frowning and sighing. "I ain't meaning shit by this. Hell," he spat.
"It's okay," she soothed. "I know you Merle, and I know you don't-"
"You think yer so damn sure, don't ya huh?" he hissed suddenly, his face flushing red. "What do you fuckin' know? Ya know nothing."
Carol knew that he was hurting, even though she felt confused by his quick and sudden anger. She watched him hesitantly, knowing that he would resort to anger and hurtful words to try to push her from him. But she had been through too much with him, and she cared too damn much for him to let him try to push her away.
She sighed warily, not fearing him- but fearing his reaction. He needed her as much as he didn't...or wouldn't want to admit. Especially right now. He'd made such good progress with the prison group as a whole, and she was damned if she'd see him slip.
"They left me. Ya wanna know how long it took me to grab at that saw, huh? That fuckin' toolbox that Mr high and mighty yo T-dog left. Hours, honey. Fuckin' hours. It was hot an' I thought...I thought they'd come back. I did. But ya know? I didn't beg. Not fuckin' once. An' they never came back for me. They left me...chained like a fuckin' dog. But I didn't break, not once."
None of this was really about Scott, but it was everything to do with Rick. She swiped at her eyes, her heart feeling like it was going to break. But this...whatever he needed to say, she would just let him spill it out and absorb it as much as she possibly could.
"Did ya know-" Merle said slowly, raising his head to look at her, tiredness and pain evident and clouding the dark blue of his eyes. "Did ya know...that the fuckin' saw was blunt? It wouldn't cut through shit, huh?" He shook his head. "I tried, oh my God I fuckin' tried. But it wouldn't cut through nothin'. Not through those damn 'cuffs...not through what Rick chained me to. Too blunt. Ya know, it was an irony...and I'm a big believer on all that shit. That damn saw...the only thing it was good for...was sawing through my own God damned fuckin' wrist," he spat out bitterly.
Carol couldn't bear it any longer and she moved quickly across to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her face to his shoulder, the tears that she had tried so desperately to hold back and spare him from slipping down her face and burning her cheeks like an accusation. She knew that he'd carried this with him for so long, and while she wasn't sure what exactly had brought all of this on so suddenly, she would be there for him. She wouldn't leave him. It felt like this was a long time coming, and Merle needed to get it finally off his chest and out into the open.
"I lost count of time. How long it took. It hurt like ya wouldn't fuckin' believe. But what the hell could I do? I was about shit out of options. I heard them...those biters. I hear them now, when I try an' sleep. I see their goddamned fuckin' hands reaching out for me. An' I was shit out'a time. I had no other choice-I had to cut my hand off. I waited for so long. But nobody came for me. Nobody cared two shits for ole Merle, not even my own little brother."
"Merle," she said quietly as she smoothed her hand across his chest, her fingers moving over to where his heart lay. It thudded pitifully against her palm, and she closed her eyes to the hurt as the tears trickled and stung at her cheeks.
"Ya know, it didn't fuckin' end there," Merle shrugged, refusing to look at her. He kept his eyes away, fixed on the far wall. He swallowed thickly, "There was so much blood-hell I didn't think a man could bleed out as much as I did then. I had to stop the bleeding. Had to cauterize that damned fuckin' wound. I...I found a kitchen, an' I had to wait to heat those fuckin' hotplates up. Thank fuck I'm a smoker...'cause I reckon I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for that lighter in my pocket. I heated them hotplates up...and well ya know the rest darlin'. I didn't bleed out so much after all that. Found a van, an' I crawled into it, wishing that the dear God All fuckin' mighty would just end it for me. Once an' for all. But that jackass...he had other ideas for me. The gutless fuckin' pansy."
"Merle," she said softly again, touching at his cheek, and this time he looked at her. He looked at her like she was real, and that she was actually there and not buried in some nightmarish ordeal. His eyes blazed dully, and she hated to see the utter defeat and weariness in his face.
"Mouse," he rasped quietly.
"You're not alone, Merle. What you went through-nobody should have ever had to have gone through that. But you're not alone anymore. I'm here."
He exhaled sharply, "I don't know nothin' no more...mouse...Carol?" he said thickly. "I want to believe ya, I really do, but I don't-"
She silenced him with a brief kiss, leaning back from him and raising her hands to cup the sides of his face. She held him firmly even as he tried to wriggle away from her, and she gently brought his head down and pressed her lips to his forehead. "You're more of a man than most men I've known, Merle. And I'm proud of you."
He looked at her in surprise, and she felt a surge of relief flow through her as she saw the blues of his eyes softening and clearing, the dark awful memories drifting from his gaze. She bit at her lip, struggling against the tears again as she thought what he'd had to do on that rooftop, the horrible fact that he had been abandoned and left alone to rot, and nobody had given a single damn about him. But she meant what she'd said. He wasn't alone in any of this no more.
He bowed his head, his eyes closing as he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, his arm slipping up and around her back, his fingers splaying out. She cupped the nape of his neck with her hand, her fingers touching at his hair and she pressed her cheek to his, her lips touching at his ear. "I love you," she said softly, the words nothing more but a whispering exhale of warm breath against his skin.
Merle didn't say anything, but his arm tightened around her, pressing her to him more firmly as he burrowed his face into her throat.
They stood like that for a long while, their arms clasped tightly around each other. The silence of the prison wing was deafening in its severity, blanketing them both and lulling them into a false sense of security that there was nothing out there other than themselves, that there wasn't any walkers, and that they wasn't stood in the ruins of a long deserted prison wing-and that the world hadn't turned on its axis into the nightmare hellish place that it was now.
…
"Mister Merle, will you come read us a story?" Luke asked shyly, ignoring the slight shove that Mika gave him.
Merle grimaced at the boy, "The hell? I ain't gonna read ya kids no damn story. What do you think I look like, huh?"
"I told you he wouldn't," Mika said glancing quickly at Luke.
Luke pouted, his shoulders slumping and Carol nudged Merle with her arm. "Don't be so hard on him."
Merle frowned at her warily. "What the fu-you want me to do?"
She smirked at the sour expression drifting across his face, the way he was starting to fidget and she knew that he was feeling uncomfortable, but she found that she couldn't help herself. After seeing the normally strong and composed Michonne in tears, finding Scott had gone, and Merle's heartbreaking admittance of what had happened back in Atlanta-she found that she badly needed to feel some light relief. They both did. His good humor had returned slowly- but it had taken a while and she'd had to soothe and reassure him. She knew that he felt ashamed of breaking down in front of her, and she had told him that he had no reason to feel that way. It was never a weakness, it was a strength, and he'd just looked at her like she had gone and suddenly grown two heads.
"Maybe I want to hear you read us a story, Merle," she said, slowly smiling at him.
"I'll read ya a damn story alright. But it ain't gonna be one for them little ears," he said, raising an eyebrow as a lazy grin spread suddenly across his face. "Strictly X-rated darlin'."
"What's X-rated?" Luke asked quickly. "Does it have Wolverine in it?"
"That's X-men, not X-rated," Mika answered, looking up at Merle and frowning. "What does that mean?"
Merle coughed suddenly, "Huh, never you mind kids. Ain't y'all got some place to be? Quit bugging our damn asses."
"Merle," Carol warned, watching as he looked at her pointedly. She dragged her eyes from him and looked at Mika, "Where is your sister?"
Mika twisted the ends of her hair in her fingers, hesitating before answering. "She's with Molly at the fences. They went to see if Nick was still there. But I told her, I think he's gone."
Merle grunted, his forehead crinkling in thought, "Ain't remembering no Nick."
"Nick is special. Lizzie told me that," Luke said proudly.
Mika huffed, "Lizzie's a dumbass."
Carol stepped forward quickly, her hand reaching out and touching at the young girls shoulder. "Where did you hear that word, Mika? You know you shouldn't really say things like that," she admonished her gently.
"Dumbass," Luke said, giggling. He looked up at Carol quickly, "We hear Mister Merle and Mister Daryl say it all the time."
She pursed her lips tightly as she looked at Merle, watching how he was trying his hardest to ignore the children. "Ya ain't gotta repeat what us grown ups say, ya know. An' I don't say that all the damn time," he glowered.
"Damn," Luke repeated.
Merle sighed and glanced down at Luke. "Me an' you are gonna fall out, kid. Yer gonna get my ass into trouble with your Miss Carol."
"You're already in trouble," Carol said raising her hand to her mouth, trying to cover the smile that was threatening.
Merle sidled up to her, nudging her with his shoulder, the children suddenly forgotten. "Is that a promise?" he leered. "I got all the time in the damn world, if you have sweetheart. What are ya gonna do to me, huh?"
She slapped at his arm, and edged away from him, "Stop it," she said, gesturing towards Luke and Mika, seeing with some dismay how they were watching them both curiously. "Behave yourself Merle. Not in front of the children."
He took a step forwards, smiling at her, and Carol felt alarmed to see that wolfish grin spread across his mouth. She swallowed quickly as he leaned his head to hers, the thick stubble of his beard scratching her cheek as his lips touched at her ear. He breathed quickly and she felt a cool shudder ripple down her back. "Ain't gonna be no damn kids later, honey. I want to see exactly what kind of trouble I can get myself into with ya-"
"Adults are so weird," Mika sighed suddenly as she watched them, Luke nodding quickly at her side in agreement.
...
They made their way to the library, Merle leading the way and Luke trailing happily behind him, and Carol raised an eyebrow as she watched them. The young boy was swinging his arms as he walked, almost copying Merle, and she wondered at the fact that Luke had seemed to have taken a shine to him.
She looked at Mika and smiled, "Can you run and get Lizzie and Molly, please? We'll start Story Time when you're all back."
Mika nodded her head, and she let go of Carol's hand, running and skipping back down the winding corridor.
"Mister Merle?"
"What?" Merle grunted.
"Mister Merle," Luke repeated, stopping, his eyes widening as Merle glared back at him.
"Kid, whatever yer gonna ask, jus' go an' spit it out already."
"Mika said you wont."
"Huh? I wont what?" he sighed irritably. He looked at Carol and shook his head, his eyes narrowing.
Luke scuffed his foot on the ground and fidgeted. "Will you read us a story? Please," he asked, "I want you to. I don't care what Mika said."
"Ain't starting this again, Luke. I told ya that I ain't going to, an' that's that. Now stop asking yer damn annoying little questions an' keep quiet, alright?"
Luke pouted as Merle pushed the library door open, rushing past him to take a seat at one of the tables, his legs dangling over the chair and his heels clicking against the wood as he swung his legs.
"You shouldn't be so hard on him, Merle," Carol chastised, ignoring the fact that Merle was giving her a withering look. "He's just a little boy."
"When I was his age, I was looking after my baby brother. Damn kids getting it easy."
"That's exactly the point-you know more than anyone," she said, as she moved away from him to pick up the book she had left on the shelf the day before. She looked away from him as footsteps clattered on the wooden floor, and she watched as Lizzie, Mika and Molly took their seats breathlessly, sitting a little distance away from Patrick and a few of the other small children that had come in with the larger bespectacled boy.
Carol took her own seat, thumbing through the paperback to the page that she had left off at the previous day, frowning as Merle came across and plucked the book from out of her hands.
He frowned at her, "Don't ya breathe a damn word of this to anyone, mouse," he said sourly as he sat next to her.
Luke clapped his hands loudly, and Carol smirked as he tried his damnedest to ignore the small boy. To her surprise, Merle started reading from the book, and she glanced around the room, noticing that the children had fallen silent and were sat rigidly, hanging onto his every word.
And as she listened to his thick rasping voice reciting the words of Tom Sawyer and his pirating adventures with Finn the Red-Handed, she found herself hanging onto his every word too.
…
She felt tired and weary as she made her way back to her cell, her hands warm and still slightly reddened and crinkled from the soap suds and hot water from the laundry room. She'd spent another few terse hours with Jeanette and she wondered at the fact that her ears weren't as red as they should have been. The other woman meant well enough, but Carol had never known anyone else to talk so quickly and rapidly as Jeanette did.
She had despaired at the sheer amount of blood, dirt and walker guts that Merle's clothing had attracted, and at how threadbare his shirts and pants were getting with all the extra hard scrubbing that she'd had to do. She'd always thought that Daryl was bad enough...yet Merle seemed to be in a league of his own where filth and grime were concerned. She was only too thankful that she didn't have the extra burden of washing and scrubbing Rick and Carl's clothing anymore. Michonne had taken that upon herself, along with Andrea's.
She glanced about her, smiling softly and nodding as she saw Beth sat on the stairs, her head resting on Zach's shoulder, the two of them talking together in slight quiet murmurs. Judith was gurgling happily on her knee and Carol watched as Beth stroked her hand over the child's head, her fingers smoothing through her soft fine hair.
Rick was nowhere in sight, and Carol worried for him. She feared he was starting back down on a path that she didn't really want to see him tread again. She sighed quietly to herself, she'd seen the signs before.
"Hey, Carol."
She looked across and saw Glenn sat at one of the tables with Maggie, and she walked over to join them. "How are you both doing?" she asked, taking in the slight embarrassed hue to Glenn's face, the sudden upwards pull of Maggie's lips.
"We're doing just fine," Maggie smiled, quirking an eyebrow in Glenn's direction.
Glenn rolled his eyes as he looked away from her and glanced up at Carol. "Can you tell Merle something for me?" he asked.
Carol nodded, unsure what the hell Merle had told him, but half fearing that it couldn't be anything good. It surprised her that both him and Merle seemed to be getting along together, and she fervently hoped that the two of them had put their past differences away for good.
"Can you tell him that his advice...if you can even call it that...sucked?" Glenn said.
Maggie laughed a little, "Glenn-you should have known better than taking any advice from him. I don't know why you listened. Be grateful that I know you a lot better than that."
Glenn's cheeks reddened slightly and he glanced away quickly. "Yeah, I don't know what possessed me to listen to a Dixon. Especially Merle."
Carol looked at them both in confusion, "Okay, I will let him know. But...what exactly did he say to you, Glenn?" she asked curiously.
"I'd huh...rather not say," he answered awkwardly.
"Yes, he has a lot of making up to do after that. Alot," Maggie replied.
"Good luck with that," Carol laughed as she moved away from them. She didn't dare think what Merle had advised.
"Oh believe me. Glenn? He's going to need all the luck he can get," Maggie said, turning from her and staring at the sheepish man sat opposite.
...
She rubbed at her hands as she walked up the metal gangway that led to her cell, a small smile playing about her mouth. She had no idea where Merle had gone, only that he had seemed very attentive, yet also quiet and furtive; like he was up to no good. It made her feel mildly suspicious.
She tried to smother a yawn as she pushed back the blanket at her doorway, stopping and nearly stumbling over a large pile of books and rucksacks that lined the wall. The room was dimly lit by her storm lantern, the pale yellow light bathing the room faintly, soft shadows chasing across the dull walls and looming in the corners of her cell. She squinted in the thin light, gaping in shock at the sight before her eyes. She stepped into the cell hurriedly, her cheeks flushing furiously as she let the blanket drop down quickly behind her.
"I told you I was gonna read ya a story," Merle smirked. "Yer gonna have to come over here to find out what kind, darlin'."
She blinked rapidly, her hand rising back up to cover her mouth, and she fought hard against the laugh that threatened to bubble from out of her mouth. "I...I think I can guess," she said a little breathlessly as she looked at him.
Merle was laying on top of the blankets on her bunk, half propped up with pillows, a paperback book clasped loosely in his hand-wearing nothing but a wolfish grin.
...
