Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
a/n: One of those chapters-the relative calm before the storm.
I would just like to say a big thank to everyone that reads, and for the reviews, follows and favorites. As always, it means so very much to me.
...
Leaning over the railings, he watched as the prison started to wake from its slumber, and from his vantage spot up on the gangway he watched as Michonne limped her way from her cell. He saw her stop and weave her hands through the dreadlocks that tumbled darkly about her shoulders as Beth walked over to her, Judith clutched in her arms. The baby was grumbling softly, and Michonne paced nervously back a step, muttering something that he couldn't quite catch.
He looked away from them, staring at the large barred windows, the faint early morning light softly filtering through. He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his lighter; an old silver Zippo, and he twisted his head to the side as he thumbed it, watching the flame as it sprung and burned brightly.
Merle liked the mornings. Liked the silence and the solitude. Except in the prison there never seemed to be so much of that. He thumbed the lighter again, watching the small flame.
"What are you doing out here?" Carol said tiredly, and he glanced quickly across at her, smiling. She was wearing his shirt, the garment too large and flapping around her loosely, the cuffs dangling past her wrists. She smiled back self consciously as she walked across to him and leaned against the railings, her back pressing to the bar.
He flipped the lighter again. "Could ask ya the same thing," he said softly.
"I woke and you wasn't there," she said glancing at him. "I got worried, Merle."
He held the lighter awkwardly between his fingers as he delved into the pocket of his pants to retrieve his cigarettes. He fumbled with the packet, stopping and sighing irritably as she reached out and took them from out of his hand.
She quirked an eyebrow at him as she pulled out a cigarette and placed it into his mouth, before passing him back the smokes. He frowned as he handed the lighter to her, and pushed the cigarettes back into his pocket, inhaling sharply on the smoke as she lit it for him.
"I weren't goin' nowhere, ya know that," he grunted through a plume of blue smoke, the cigarette clenched between his teeth. "Ain't runnin' out on ya."
"I know," she said quietly, staring down at her hands. She held onto his lighter, one finger tracing the outlined pattern of an eagle in flight. She sighed as she looked at him, the smile fixed a little too firmly on her mouth, her eyes blazing a little too vividly.
Merle watched her warily. After what he had told her about Atlanta, his first instinct had been to run-like he'd always done, but the way that she had reacted to him had stopped him dead in his tracks. He had never told anyone what had happened on that damn rooftop-not even Daryl, and he'd surprised himself for suddenly spilling his guts out to her. He found that he wanted her to know what had happened to him, why he despised and resented Rick as much as he did. He wanted her to understand-but he'd had no idea that it would have been so painful as it had been.
It still hurt him that he had mattered nothing to no-one and nobody had even bothered to look for him. All those months...and the only one that had found and helped had been Philip fucking Blake. Merle had been in a severely fucked up mental state when that asshole had found...and patched him up. Offering him a new home and a new reason to try to exist. And Merle had grabbed at the opportunity, even though it had all been nothing more than a damn lie.
"Merle, are you okay?" Carol asked, and Merle looked at her, saw the concern in her face, her hand reaching out and catching his stumped arm. She squeezed him briefly, her hand dropping away.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with me," he lied as he raised the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply. He blew the smoke out thickly as he turned away from her, staring down at the floor under them, noticing that Michonne was now sat at one of the tables, talking quietly with Rick. Merle wondered when that asshole had gotten back.
"Mhm," Carol sighed. She handed him his lighter back as she pushed herself away from the railings and stepped towards the cell, tugging the blanket back and securing it, leaving the entrance to the cell open. "Merle?" she questioned, "Are you going to explain why a lot of your books are in my cell? And your bags?"
"They ain't bags," he said gruffly, pulling on the smoke quickly before flicking the butt to the ground. He watched as the cigarette tumbled to the floor below. "An' I ain't knowing what yer meaning, woman," he growled as he walked over to the entrance, leaning one shoulder to the bars.
She looked at him, pursing her lips, "So...these? They just found their own way up here?"
Merle shrugged, wishing that she would just drop it. He had moved the majority of his shit from his cell to hers. He didn't want to question why he had done it-and he didn't want her to question it too much either. The fact of it was that his cell wasn't hers. He spent a lot of his time in her cell, it made perfect sense to him. He was getting fed up of never finding his own crap, always having to trek back down to his cell. It wasn't such a big deal.
"I can ask Daryl when he gets back-to help you move your things?" she asked, a small smile pushing at her mouth.
"Oh c'mon mouse, ya know there ain't no needin' of that," he grumbled as he stepped into the cell. He sat on the bunk, looking at the messy tumble of blankets, and smirked to himself- knowing all to well what had happened the night before. He looked up at her quickly as she pulled his shirt off, dropping it next to him. "Why ya gotta wear my shit, huh?"
"It was cold and it was there," she said, sitting next to him on the bunk. She laid her hand on his knee, looking at him carefully. "Merle, are you sure you're alright?"
He didn't answer her straight away, he let his gaze sweep past her to the entrance of the cell. He swallowed tightly, knowing now that there wasn't any point in hiding the truth from her no more-she deserved nothing but his honesty-even if he didn't want to admit to shit. "No Carol," he sighed tiredly. "I ain't alright, but I will be. Jus' need a lil time is all, ya know?"
She leant to him and kissed his cheek, sitting back and smiling sadly at him. "I know," she said quietly, squeezing his knee before getting to her feet.
Merle watched as she grabbed at a thin jacket, watched as she pulled it over the long sleeved top that she wore. He huffed to himself as she fastened her knife to her belt, and she looked at him, a small frown lining her face. "What is it?" she asked.
He pushed himself to his feet, shrugging the shirt on, feeling the warmth and smelling the scent of her still clinging to the fabric. "Why do you do it?" he asked, walking across the cell to retrieve his prosthetic. He sat back down on the bunk and fumbled with the leather strappings, grunting as he slipped his arm into the rough leather sheath.
"Do what?" she questioned, looking at him mildly in confusion. "I don't understand."
He buckled the straps, then shoved his shirt cuff up over his bicep, tucking the material so that it wouldn't get in the way, or restrict his movements. The metal felt cool on his arm. He glanced up as he got back to his feet, staring at her sullenly. "Why do you care, huh? Ain't nobody ever given two shits 'bout me before. Why the hell now? Why you?"
"Why not," she said shrugging and stepping over to him. He grumbled as she started to fasten the buttons on his shirt. "It's about time somebody gave a damn about you, Merle. Stop wriggling," she complained as he tried to squirm away from her.
"I ain't no baby-I don't need ya fussing over me, mouse-"
"Maybe I want to," she said quickly, smoothing her hand on his chest and patting his shoulder. "There, done," she smirked.
"Hell woman," he grimaced. He found himself surprised by her. She always surprised him. The sour mood that he'd found himself in started to ease away and as he looked at her, he saw the way that she was softly smiling at him- smiling like he actually mattered to her, and he shook his head, chewing at his lip. He hadn't seen her smile like that at anyone else-it was almost like she kept that little bit of herself just for him. "Ain't no pussy," he retorted as he inched away from her and walked towards the entrance of the cell.
"I know you're not," she said. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, "Besides, who else is there to read me a bedtime story?"
Merle nearly tripped over his own feet as he looked quickly back at her. He grinned suddenly. The woman had a good point. "If yer lucky darlin'-maybe we can even get to page two..."
…
Rick looked at him pointedly as he entered the room, and Merle ignored him as he dragged out a seat and sat down. He had to admit to himself that the man had bigger balls than most as Rick met his gaze unwaveringly, before nodding curtly at the dark skinned woman sat opposite.
"Ain't ya got nothin' to say, Rick?" Merle asked.
Rick stared at him for a moment, "There's no need of this Merle. Just don't."
Merle huffed loudly, "Oh, I'm thinkin' there's every need." He leaned his arms to the table top, deliberately placing his prosthetic in Ricks view, watching as the other man lowered his gaze to his arm.
"The pig, Violet," Rick said, staring at him as he raised his hand and rubbed at his beard. "She died. Early this morning." He sighed, weariness and sadness creeping into his voice. "I found another one, dead in the woods."
"The hell?" Merle answered. He frowned, something wasn't right, but he was damned if he knew. "Well, whatever. Guess yer gonna go back out there, huh? Gonna do yer lil farming stunt. Like that shit ain't foolin' none."
Rick ignored him. "I'll see you later?" he asked Michonne.
She smiled at him and nodded.
Merle narrowed his eyes as he watched as Rick paused, glancing at the two of them before striding off. "Why ya gotta talk to that asshole, Mee'chonne? After what he did to ya."
"It wasn't just me, Merle. It was the both of us," she reminded him.
"You still talk to him. Why?" Merle questioned roughly. He stiffened in his seat as she looked at him, her dark eyes fixed unflinchingly on his. "He left ya out to them damn wolves, same as he did me. Ya know-Rick got this way 'bout him. I seen it. He don't think none 'bout sacrificing people for the greater fuckin' good. You ain't gone forgettin' he wanted to trade yer ass off to the Governor?"
Michonne sighed, glancing down at her hands. "I know what he did Merle. But back then? I don't think I could blame him. Not really. Not for his choices, not for what he did. He believed he was doing the right thing by himself-by the group. His group. I can see that."
"Yer more forgiving than me," he said bitterly.
"He didn't know me. I could have been just anyone. I was just anyone. What would you have done, if you were him? I can't blame him for doing something that he thought was right."
Merle leaned back in his seat, rubbing his fingers across the metal of his prosthetic. What the hell did Michonne know about any damn thing. "How the fuck can ye justify what he did to ya, huh?"
Michonne placed her arms on the table top and leaned towards him. She looked at him measuredly, "There has to be some forgiveness, Merle. He was trying to protect the people he cares for. He didn't want to take any chances. In this world... is that such a bad thing to do?"
"An' look at ya now. You're part of this damn group," Merle said sourly.
"And so are you," she answered.
Merle glanced away from her, chewing at his lip. "From where I'm sitting, Michonne-there ain't no forgivin'. I ain't nothin' like you."
She looked up sharply as Henry and Zach walked past, frowning at them. She leaned her elbow to the table, cupping her chin. "No. You're not me," she said quietly. "But you've gotta let go of that hurt. Believe me-nothing good comes of it." She sat back, letting her hand drop to the table top. "You either let that fire-that hatred consume you, or you move past it."
"Ya pussied out on me, Michonne," he remarked, glancing away from her as Zach caught his eye.
"No. No I didn't Merle," she said softly. "I just chose to grow the hell up."
He looked at her in surprise. He hadn't expected that reaction from her, not one little bit. How could she even speak up for that asshole sheriff, after what he'd gone and done.
Michonne got to her feet and pushed herself away from the table, glancing as Zach came along. "Merle? Do yourself a favor. This with Rick? Don't let it fester. You've got people behind you, good people. Whatever you think, you're not alone. The same as me. We need to make this work-but it's got to go both ways."
She looked at him for a moment longer, before pushing herself away. Merle watched as she walked off, and he sighed to himself. She had no idea what Rick had done to him. How he'd cuffed him to that rooftop and left him cowering and whipped like a dog. He couldn't ever forgive Rick for that. No fucking way.
"Merle?"
He glanced up sharply, "What?"
Zach looked at him, "A few of us are thinking of going on a run. Not right now. But Sasha is thinking that the timing is right, and well-would you come with us? We could use the extra man-power."
Merle got to his feet and headed off towards the small kitchen, thinking that the only thing right now that he wanted was a strong hot coffee. "When ye thinking on going?" he asked as he poured himself a mug.
"Later. This afternoon-if we can gather enough people."
Merle frowned. It wasn't lost on him that Zach had been pushing himself forwards for every supply run that had been suggested. The kid was good, and there wasn't many that Merle felt that he could trust on a run, and Zach was one of those few people. "Look, I ain't meaning shit by this kid, but yer been pushing yerself for every goddamned run. I reckon ya need to cool yer shit down. Ya ain't gotta prove nothin to no-one."
"I don't see it like that," Zach shrugged.
"I know ya don't kid. But I'm tellin' ya-take a backseat on this one, huh? What good are ya gonna be to anyone if you go an' burn yerself out?" Merle glanced at Henry. The guy had been avoiding many of the runs-instead he'd been favoring clearing the biters at the fences. "Let him take your place," he said gruffly.
"Who, me?" Henry asked, looking at Zach. "Hey, if you want me to cover you, it isn't a problem, Zach. I don't know, I just feel...bad for what happened before-"
"Henry, don't," Zach said, shaking his head.
"No, hey I said it isn't a problem. I can take the spot for you," Henry smiled. "I really should get back out there, prove to myself that I'm not a total worthless piece of crap. That I can get the job done."
"You sure?" Zach questioned. "I hate doing this to you-"
Henry smiled again, "It's cool."
"Good," Merle said, cradling the mug of coffee in his hand. "Then that's decided. Zach? Get the fuck out'a here, an' Henry? Yer with me now. Go an' tell Sasha I'm on board for this shit."
…
Merle squinted in the bright morning light, staring across the fence line. Across the dirt track, he could see Maggie, Glenn and Chloe taking down the biters that were surging at the chain links, the low growls of the undead assholes reaching across to him. He narrowed his eyes as he watched, and then he grit his teeth in annoyance as he saw Zach standing alongside them, a tire-iron in his hand. He'd told the boy to cool the shit down, to stop being so goddamned helpful-and there the kid was, at it again. He sighed. What was the fucking point.
He tore his gaze away, raising his hand and slapping at the chain links. "C'mon you fuckin' cock-sucking bastards," he barked out. "C'mere an' take a bite out of ole Merle. Whoa," he laughed as a biter swiveled its head and made towards him. "Hell sugar-ya sure are an ugly lil fucker, ain't ya?"
He leaned against the fencing, slapping his hand again, then poking his blade through the links and squarely through the biters eye socket. It squelched thickly. "Shit fer brains," Merle muttered as he pulled his bayonet back, wiping it on the thigh of his dirty pants. He watched as a few more of the biters made towards him and sighed happily. Seemed his little plan was working. He'd hoped to lure a few of the biters to the other side of the fence lines, to try to ease up on the masses that were gathering and congesting where Maggie and Glenn were. The fence there was starting to lean over a little too much, and he watched as the top wobbled.
"C'mon, ya dumbasses," he snapped out loudly again, slapping his hand and rattling at the chain links.
"Out on your own?"
He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Andrea made her way towards him. "Lookin' like it," he said, dismissing her and stabbing at the biters. "Ain't seen ya in a while. What'cha been doin'?"
"Nothing much. Taking watch shifts-a lot of them," she replied.
Merle huffed, "Been keeping out of the way, huh?"
Andrea sighed, "Something like that. I felt...feel bad about what happened with Scott."
"Weren't you," he said, watching as a biter tried to push its filthy hands through the chain links. He turned and faced Andrea, stepping away from the fence, his prosthetic dangling down.
"That doesn't make me feel any better. How's Carol?"
Merle stiffened slightly, squaring his shoulders. "She's fine," he replied curtly.
Andrea gestured with her hand, a curious half smile on her face, "And you and her? You're still-"
"Ain't none of your goddamned business," he snapped. He narrowed his eyes, watching her, "What the hell's it got to do with you anyway?"
She shrugged, "Just curious. I would never have thought she was your type."
"Ya don't know nothin' about me, sugar." He wished that she would just go and leave him alone with the biters. He had shit to do, and he wasn't interested in standing around and gossiping with her.
"I was thinking, earlier. I remembered what you said to me in Woodbury."
He raised his eyebrow, wondering where this conversation was leading. "I said alot of shit back then. Still do."
She laughed and scuffed her boot in the long grass, catching at her hair as a low gust of wind blew. "You asked me then why we had never hooked up, and I said-"
"That I called ya a whore an' a rug-muncher. Hell, I remember that," he smirked suddenly at the thought. "Had a way with words back then, didn't I?"
Andrea looked at him appraisingly, "You've changed since then Merle. You're different. You're not that drugged up racist ass-hole I knew from the quarry. And you're not quite the same guy I knew in Woodbury either. The change, whatever it is- has done you good."
"An' you ain't changed one lil bit, have ya?" Merle watched her suspiciously, "Ya know, I heard you were rammed so far up Shane's ball sack that ya didn't hear he was busy bangin' Rick's wife, did ya huh?"
"Touché," she said sardonically as she stared at him, raising an eyebrow.
She shifted on her feet, raising her hand to brush through her hair and Merle suddenly noticed she was wearing a blue shirt tied loosely around her waist and a skimpy little vest top that did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts. He knew that it wouldn't take much for him to move a little closer and cop a good eyeful. He licked at his lips, his mouth suddenly dry as he stepped nervously backwards, and away from her.
She caught him looking and she lowered her eyes, smiling. "We're still both the outsiders here Merle. Trying to fit in. If you ever want to...talk, reminisce about the good old days, you know where you can find me."
"Shit's changed," he grunted uncomfortably. "An' I ain't got nothin' that I'm wantin' to say to ya, Blondie." He glanced away from her feeling suddenly confused- he felt guilt rush through him and he didn't understand where the hell that feeling was coming from. All he knew was that he badly wanted Andrea to get the fuck away from him.
Andrea stared at him, and he squirmed under her bright blue gaze. "The offer's there," she said softly.
Merle ignored her and paced restlessly away, wanting to put distance between them. He looked up quickly and squinted into the distance at the sound of a deep thrumming engine, and a smile stretched across his face as he saw Daryl ride up to the main outer gate on his old Triumph.
"Shit yeah," he grinned as he raced across the dirt track, biters and Andrea forgotten as he pulled open the inner gate, allowing his brother in.
"Merle! Ya big fucking dumbass," Daryl said as he pulled the bike up and kicked at the kickstand.
"What the hell ya got there, little brother?" Merle asked as he walked over to him. Across the saddle bags were draped several black feathered and tattered looking bundles.
Daryl smirked, "Was a good hunt. Got a few turkeys. Thought might make a change from the shit we been eatin'."
"You were alright out there, on yer own Darlina?" Merle asked, looking at his brother in concern. Daryl looked filthy, tired but happy.
Daryl shrugged, "Ya know how it is brother. I gotta get out there, ya know-blow off some steam."
"Is about all ya get to blow," Merle smirked.
"Christ," Daryl grimaced. He looked up as Merle slapped his arm around his back, "Is good to be back."
"Yeah. I missed ya, lil bro," Merle said softly.
"The hell, Merle? Ya gone all pussy on me?"
"Ain't no pussy, brother. An' ya know I can still kick yer fuckin' ass one-handed, any damn time of the day, ya lil runt," Merle grumbled as they walked slowly back towards C-block.
...
