Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
…
"Merle, where the hell are ya, brother?"
Merle was sat on the bunk, leaning his back to the wall, the book he'd been reading dropping into his lap at the sound of his brothers voice calling up to him. "Up here, Darlina," he called back as he looked around the small cell, his eyes guiltily landing on his stack of books and his backpacks-the few belongings he owned stuffed inside them. He'd been starting to sort his shit out, mixing up his clothing with Carol's before she'd have the chance to really question why the hell his belongings was here-and before she could think twice and shove his ass back down to his own old cell. He'd been waiting for it-and he found to his confusion and surprise that he really didn't want that to happen. He liked sharing her cell, liked spending time with her. He was there most of the time anyway, so what the fuck did it matter.
He heard his brother clomping his way up the metal gangway, and he stiffened on the bunk.
"You weren't in your-" Daryl leaned in at the doorway, looking at him in surprise. "The shit? Wanna tell me why your cell is empty?"
"Drop it brother," Merle said as he bent the corner of the page he'd been reading. He placed the book back carefully onto the night stand. "I ain't gonna discuss shit with ya."
"You moved your stuff in? When did that happen?" Daryl asked in surprise. He shifted at the doorway, raising his hand and biting at his thumbnail. "Am surprised Carol let ya miserable ass up here."
Merle narrowed his eyes, watching Daryl. "I didn't give her no chance. Told her how it was," he shrugged.
"Yeah," Daryl scoffed, "'M sure that's what happened. You ain't told her nothin'."
"What the hell's it to you anyway?"
Daryl walked into the cell and stared at his backpacks. "Do you know what you're doin'?"
"I ain't stupid. I know what I'm doin'. I'm not gonna fuck her around. It jus' ain't happenin'."
Daryl glanced at him, "Just didn't expect this, not when I got back."
"Say Darlina, ain't you got no little women to go an' bother?" Merle smirked, wanting to change direction of the conversation. He felt uncomfortable talking to his brother about what was going on.
He sighed to himself. Daryl had been greeted as a big old fucking hero when he'd turned up earlier that morning with those goddamned turkeys, and Merle had grinned at the thought of his brother all red cheeked and flustered with a bunch of women clucking like old mother hens over him. They'd fussed and flapped all over his baby brother until the embarrassment had become too much for Daryl to bear-and he'd scuttled right back off to his cell to hide out for an hour until the women had eventually disappeared.
"Stop it, Merle," Daryl grimaced. "I didn't think they'd leave me alone. The hell? They weren't acting like that when I brought them damn squirrels."
"You went and got yerself a whole fuckin' harem the minute ya stepped in with 'em birds in yer hand," Merle smirked at the embarrassment flooding his brothers face. "Oh yeah little brother, ya ain't gonna move for them bitches now."
Daryl stared at him, shaking his head. "The hell ya know anyway," he grumbled.
Merle shrugged again as he glanced at his brother, seeing with some alarm how tired he was looking. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asked.
"Nah," Daryl grunted. "Saw Sasha and she said about this run to the Big Spot- heard you were going."
"Yeah, said I'd be up for that shit. You ain't thinkin' on coming, are ya lil bro?" he frowned.
"Scouted that area back last week with her and Glenn. Yeah, I'm going-I ain't gonna miss it." Daryl turned his head abruptly and stepped out of the cell at the sound of footsteps coming from behind, and he smiled as soon as he saw Carol walking towards him.
Merle watched the two of them together, saw the way that his brother reacted to her. Daryl didn't pull away from her as she laid her hand on his arm, and Merle suddenly felt wary and uncomfortable. He wondered what would have happened if his brother had manned the fuck up and stepped up to the mark-would Merle have even stood a chance in hell with her. If he'd been more of a man back then at the quarry and less of the asshole that he'd been...if he'd loved her a lot sooner, could he have made any difference to any fucking thing. Could he have saved her from all the heartache and grief. He didn't know and it suddenly frustrated the hell out him.
He made his way to push past them both, stopping when he felt Carol touch at his waist. She looked up at him, a small frown crinkling her face and he sighed. He didn't know why, but he felt the sudden need to give them both space, and he tried desperately to ignore the pang of jealousy as it writhed in the pit of his stomach.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"On a run," he replied curtly.
Daryl looked at them both and stepped back awkwardly. "I'll see ya out there, a'right brother?" He nodded quickly as he turned and walked back down the gangway.
"You're going with Daryl? Sasha?"
"Lookin' like I am. Where the fuck did ya-"
"Don't do this Merle," she warned as she stepped into the cell, and he scowled as he watched her.
"Don't do what?" he huffed.
"This," she said tiredly.
He followed after her, grabbing at her wrist. He let his grip loosen as he saw her eyes widen. "I ain't do nothin'. Christ, what do ya take me for?"
"Sometimes Merle, I just don't know. You don't make things easy."
"Ain't nothing easy," he murmured as he pulled her to him and slipped his arm around her waist. "I huh...I didn't think I'd see ya before I left,"
She laid her hand on his chest, her fingers twisting in the material of his dirty wife-beater. "Just be safe out there, please. Come back in one piece."
He swallowed quickly at the look on her face, at the worry in the soft tone of her voice. In the past he'd never had anybody to come back to, apart from his little brother. He'd never had anyone waiting on him, not even back at Woodbury. Nobody had ever been concerned, or given two shits if he lived or died. Nobody except her, now.
He leaned down and kissed her, "I will. You ain't gonna be getting rid of my miserable ass that quickly, mouse," he murmured. His heart lifted as she smiled back up at him.
She patted his chest, "That's all I can ask for," she said.
...
Merle was surprised to see Michonne heading towards them, and even less surprised to see that Henry was characteristically late as usual. Glenn was loading up the trunk of the Hyundai, wearing the full black body armour that the original group must had found when they'd first stormed the prison. They must have been a pitiful group back then, nothing more than a bunch of kids, women and assholes-but they had done the nearly improbable and cleared out the prison wings. Merle found that he had to begrudgingly admire their collective balls for that. Even that asshole of a sheriff.
"I'm here!" Henry called out breathlessly.
"'S about time, man," Daryl drawled lazily. He looked across to Merle and nodded his head as he secured his crossbow to the front of the bike, and Merle felt a pang at the thought of his old Triumph, and the fact that he'd never be able to ride that bitch again. Little brother didn't look after that baby like he'd done in the past, and Merle could already see signs of neglect on the body work, on the thick fat chrome exhaust.
He dragged his gaze away, watching as Bob sauntered across the courtyard to Sasha. Tyreese was leaning restlessly against the door of the SUV next to his sister, almost like he was looking to her for confirmation. The big guy would be all right once he got out there, Merle had no doubt of that-it was just the damn time spent hanging around before the action kicked off was what played on Tyreese's nerves. Under fire-he'd cope. He'd get the shit done that he was told. Merle had seen it before.
"You were out there on your own when Daryl and Michonne found you," Sasha was looking at Bob with a curious detached interest.
Bob shuffled on his feet, his fingers curling around the straps of the backpack slung across his shoulder, "That's right."
Sasha didn't break her gaze and Merle watched her with sudden interest. The woman was cool as fucking ice and she probably had a bigger dick than what Bob had.
"I just want to make sure you know how to play on a team," she said.
Daryl glanced up from the bike, his fringe falling into his eyes, "We ain't gonna do it unless it's easy."
"Jus' as well," Merle scoffed. "Look at y'all. I ain't never seen such a bunch'a-"
"You know Bob was a medic in the army," Glenn interrupted as he slammed the trunk of the Hyundai shut.
Merle rolled his eyes, looking away quickly as he heard Michonne walking across the courtyard to him. He glanced at her raising an eyebrow.
"Before you say anything, the ankle? It's fine," she said as she stood near to him.
"I weren't about to say any damn thing," he shrugged, looking over his shoulder as his brother weaved his way over towards them.
"Well, shit-look who's here," Daryl said. "When did ya get back?"
"Yesterday. You?"
Daryl pulled a pack of battered cigarettes out of his leather vest. "This morning," he grunted, tapping the packet with his hand and popping two out. He stuffed one into his mouth and offered the other to Merle. "You're coming out on this run, 'Chonne?"
Merle lit his cigarette, half smiling as he watched them both curiously. Out of all the weird assed friendships his brother had made here-this one seemed the most damned unlikely.
"I am," she replied slowly. "Daryl, I'm going to tell you what I told your brother. You're right. There's no point to it any more."
Daryl looked at her in surprise, his smoke dangling out his mouth. "What ye saying?"
"You were right about the Governor. That the trail out there is cold. It's dead. He's gone and I just have to accept that we're not going to find him."
"Ya did what ya could, Michonne," Merle answered. "Ain't none gonna fault ya for what you've done."
She sighed, "I could have done more here."
"Nah," Daryl puffed out in a plume of cigarette smoke. "Merle's right. Ya did what you had to. Ain't no knowing until ya at least try." He shifted restlessly on his feet, the heel of his boot scuffing the hard ground. "It's good to see ya back in one piece, 'Chonne."
"It's good to be back," she smiled.
Merle sighed feeling suddenly impatient. They were spending too much time hanging their asses out and chewing the goddamn fat. He just wanted to be off and get this shit done.
"Let's get the fuck out'a here Darlina," he grunted, dragging hard on his cigarette before flicking it to the ground and crushing it under his boot. "Ain't got no reason to be hangin' round."
"Always this impatient?" Michonne asked wryly.
Daryl smirked, "Should've known this asshole when he was younger," he called out over his shoulder as he strode over to where the bike was parked up.
"Guess that's my cue to go too," she said. "Looks like you've got some company."
Merle glanced up quickly, watching in annoyance as Zach made his way over towards him. "What are ya doin' here? I thought I told you to take a backseat on this shit."
Zach thrust his hand into his pocket, "Chill out, I'm not coming. Just wanted...hell, I don't know. I feel bad that Henry's taking my place."
Merle shrugged, resting his hand on the roof of the Hyundai. He watched as Glenn pulled open the drivers door and got in. "Ain't got no reason to kid. Get yer ass out'a here, go an' spend time with that lil girl of yours."
"Not much chance of that," Zach complained. "Beth's got Judith again."
"An' ain't that the way huh? Women an' damn fuckin' kids," he scoffed as he slid into the passenger seat.
Zach leaned into the window, his hand resting on the roof, "Just...take it easy out there, and Henry-thanks man." He slapped the roof loudly as he stepped away.
The back door slammed and Henry grinned as he buckled himself in, "I'm looking forward to this. Surprisingly...yeah I am. I've got a feeling this is going to be a good run."
Glenn started the engine up, staring out of the window as Daryl kick-started the bike, then pulled up slowly behind him. He glanced at Merle and shook his head, a small half smile forming on his face. "Rookies," he mouthed.
"Hey! I heard that," Henry called out from the backseat.
Merle grinned at the indignant expression pasted on Henry's face as he looked into the rear view mirror.
…
Several large green medic tents lined the parking lot, enclosed within long lines of chain link, and Merle hung back as the others pushed their way through a thickly blood and gore encrusted ragged gap in the fencing. He swiveled his head, glancing behind them at the deserted parking lot, a few long abandoned cars and trucks parked up some distance away from their own vehicles. The sound of classical music played discordantly, the batteries from the boom box Glenn and Sasha had hooked it up to slowly starting to drain of power.
He slipped his colt from the his belt, his fingers flexing over the wooden handle, and he grimaced as he followed after them, Henry walking just in front of him.
"Jesus, this," Henry muttered.
"Ain't nothing to worry out. Biters long gone," he answered. "This-ya know it ain't nothing more than a sweep, we're here jus' to take a look, yeah? Gonna come back with more-" he paused when he saw the worry on the other mans face. "You ain't gonna go an' lose yer bottle in there Henry."
"I didn't say I was," Henry replied a little too quickly. "I'll be fine in there, told you before-this will be a cool run."
Merle pushed his way past him, pausing for a moment and looking at Henry pointedly, "As long as we're clear-there ain't no room for fuckin' up. This ain't that damn warehouse."
He saw Tyreese stop, the shotgun clasped loosely in his hands as he gingerly peeled back one of the large flaps of the tents with the muzzle, and Merle curiously made his way over, stopping and looking into the interior of the tent. Several camp beds were arranged in lines, the thick green canvas bunks stained darkly with dried blood. There were more blood trails spattering the dull asphalt, surgical swabs and bandages littering the floor like long forgotten confetti. On two of the bunks lay withered and long desiccated corpses, the leathery remains of their lips pulled back from the bony faces in a perpetual snarl, remnants of teeth and wisps of hair the only other thing that marked them as being vaguely human at one time. He didn't miss the trails of long dried blood at their throats, and he wondered if they'd ended it for themselves, or if they had been put out of their misery.
He shrugged as he stepped back, "It ain't these dumb fucks ya gotta be worrying 'bout big guy."
Tyreese shook his head and frowned, "I always think it's going to be different out here than back at the prison, but it isn't. It never is. It's always the same, them and us."
Merle raised his eyebrow, and glanced past him. Daryl and Michonne were heading off towards the entrance of the Big Spot, and Merle hurried after them, Tyreese sighing and trailing after him.
Large wooden crates blocked the way and Merle irritably kicked at one, peering inside as he pushed past- but it was empty, like the rest of the crates. There wasn't anything salvageable or of any damn worth in the army encampment. Whatever had been here had been used or already looted.
Daryl was leaning against one of the large darkened window panes, adjusting and tightening the string on his crossbow, talking quietly to Michonne. Merle made his way to the doorway, glancing up at the clear blue of the sky lined with a few grey clouds. He frowned, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Everything seemed so perfect. Too perfect.
"What is it?" Daryl asked as he pushed himself to his feet, his boots thudding loudly on the concrete.
Merle shook his head and walked away from him, the colt in his hand, his prosthetic dangling at his side. Tyreese and Sasha were dragging out a couple of biters that they found inside.
"Jus' want to get this shit over," he muttered suddenly, peering into the murky interior.
"Got somewhere better ya should be, brother?" Daryl asked knowingly.
"Ain't we all?" Merle smirked.
"I'm going shopping," Michonne grinned, pulling a small shopping cart with her.
Henry laughed, and Merle felt himself relax a little at the sound. He didn't know what the hell had gotten into him, all he knew was that all morning he hadn't been feeling right. He guessed what Michonne had said to him earlier about Rick had rattled...and pissed him off, and then Andrea acting all fucking weird around him-he couldn't fathom that shit out either.
He glanced once more across the parking lot and the row of medic tents, shrugging to himself before turning on his heel and following after Glenn into the store.
…
"What the hell are ya gonna do with that, Kim?" he asked as he saw Glenn pull a boxed camera off a shelf.
Glenn looked at him sheepishly, and Merle raised his eyebrows as the Asian tucked it into his backpack. "I don't know," he answered, "Maybe take some pictures of Maggie-"
"Oh I think I do Glenn, and shit-I didn't think ya had it in ya," he grinned. He was amused to think that the sneaky Chinaman was wanting to take a few 'candid' shots of his little woman. He wondered just how up for that Maggie would be. "If yer wanting my advice-"
Glenn laughed quietly as he paced towards another shelf, "I'm not taking any more of your advice, Merle."
"Your loss," Merle shrugged, watching as Glenn stopped, his eyes fixed on a large box with photographs of babies, names and dates on it. Glenn stared at it, and Merle felt his interest suddenly pique.
Glenn glanced back at him and was about to open his mouth, when a loud smashing sound of breaking glass echoed throughout the store, breaking loudly through the heavy and pervasive silence. Merle stared at him, watching as the other man held up his flash light. "What the hell was that?" Glenn hissed.
Merle pushed past him, "I ain't knowing, but it ain't sounding like it's anything fuckin' good."
Across the room from them, two large wooden shelving units were leaning precariously over at right angles, bottles of wine and beer smashed all over the floor, the sudden pungent stench of alcohol tainting the musky air. Bob lay underneath one of the units, trapped, and Merle glanced up at the sudden ominous sound of creaking coming from above them, and as he watched in alarm, a hole gaped suddenly, bright sunlight filtering through the semi-dark, palely lighting the inside of the store. A dull muffled thump came from behind and he spun on his heels, raising his pistol and thumbing the safety back quickly as he saw a biter fall through the roof and hit the floor, its head hitting the hard concrete and smashing like a ripened pumpkin, blood and brain matter spewing out darkly.
He heard his brother calling out to Bob, asking him if he was okay, and heard Bob's muffled gasp of pain.
"What happened?" Glenn called out from his side.
"Everyone's alright. We're over in the wine and beer section," Henry answered distantly. "Oh shit!" he yelped out suddenly as two more biters fell through the ceiling.
Flash lights danced across the dimly lit room, lighting the floor space, and Merle grabbed awkwardly at Glenn's backpack, yanking him backwards and out of the way of a biter that was trying to reach out and claw at him. There was another on the floor, crawling sluggishly towards them, and as Merle glanced at it, he saw that its one leg was bent at an unnatural angle. He quickly smashed his boot into its softened skull, blood and gore splashing up the leg of his pants.
"Thanks," Glenn breathed out shakily.
"Weren't nothin'," he answered tersely as he let go of him and gripped the pistol tighter. He looked across the room to his brother, feeling a sudden fear and frustration at the distance separating them. Tyreese made his way towards Daryl, Henry tagging just behind him, their shotguns blasting as more of the biters fell through the ceiling and surged towards them.
The creaking got louder, and they were showered with powdery dust as more holes gaped suddenly, spilling more biters to the ground. Some of the bodies splattered on impact, throwing up thick sprays of blood and gore that splashed across the ground and across the lower half of the shelving units. A few of the biters scrambled to their feet, ambling off in all directions, and Merle heard the staccato frenzy of a semi-automatic, heard the soft swoosh of Michonne's katana.
He looked across at Glenn, seeing the fear and concern in the Asians face. They were separated from the others, blocked and backed into a corner, the biters starting to press at them. He raised his colt and fired, seeing with grim satisfaction that Glenn stood side to side with him, holding out his own pistol and firing repeatedly. They moved slowly forward, inching their way towards the exit. His pistol jammed, and he rammed it into his belt, lashing out with his prosthetic, kicking at the biters he impaled on his bayonet.
More of the biters poured through the ceiling, the light in the store now bright and painting the store in surreal colors, and Merle glanced up, seeing with some amusement that one biter was dangling from a jagged beam from the now ruined ceiling, its intestines wrapped around a metal bar. The biter spun slowly around as its arms and legs thrashed about uselessly.
"Move it, Chinaman," he hissed as he blocked a biters feeble attempt to wrap its teeth around the metal of his prosthesis. He pushed it back, kicking at its knees, watching as it fell to the ground and he raised his foot to crunch its head under his boot. Blood sprayed thickly up against the leg of his pants, soaking through to his skin, but Merle ignored it as he looked across the room.
Daryl had managed to drag Bob from under the shelf, and Henry was bracing his back against it, exertion marring his pale face. Tyreese was backing away, covering them with fire from his shotgun, and as he watched, he saw Henry suddenly plummet to the ground heavily, his high keening cry of despair ripping and rending through the air.
Merle saw the biter crawl up Henry's body, watched as it sank its teeth into his throat-frustration fighting inside him as he stood there watching, powerless and unable to do a damn thing about it. Henry screamed out again; the sound high and urgent, harsh and painful to his ears. Blood sprayed out thickly, and as the biter bit down again, chunks of flesh dribbling from out of its mouth, its chin stained freshly crimson-Merle heard Henry's cry drop to a low anguished moan, the sound bubbling thick and wetly from his ripped out throat.
The creaking from above gained momentum and volume, pounding at his ears, and he looked up as the light from the broken ceiling suddenly dimmed, the loud screeching of metal shifting against metal echoing painfully throughout the store room.
"I think," Glenn panted at his side, "I think we should get the hell out of here!"
"Come on!" Daryl yelled out. "Let's go, now! Go!"
They backed away quickly, their guns and rifles clearing a small path as they crowded at the entrance, stepping back and watching with horror as the ceiling tumbled in upon itself with an ear-wrenching metallic squeal, the store room suddenly dimming and blacking out as the ruined body of a helicopter plummeted and crashed to the ground.
...
They raced across the parking lot, only stopping when they were some safe distance away. Sasha bent over, her hands clasping her legs as her breath came out in soft panting sobs and she looked up as Tyreese laid his hand gently on her shoulder.
"Shit," Glenn wheezed as he looked across at the others.
Merle strode over to a large wooden crate. He stared at it for a moment and then raised his foot, kicking viciously at the box, venting his frustration out. None of this was supposed to happen. Henry was dead and the supposedly easy scouting run had turned into the mother of all fucking disasters. They'd return to the prison empty fucking handed and one of their own gone. He kicked at the crate again, cursing loudly.
He stopped as he felt a hand catch at his elbow, the grip tight and unyielding and he glanced angrily at his brother, trying to shove him away."This...it weren't supposed to go down like this. Fuck it," he snapped.
Daryl pulled him away, "Easy, big brother," he soothed. "Nothin' we could'a done, Merle. Shit fucking happens. Always does. Ain't none to blame."
Merle pushed his brothers hand from off him, his ears still aching from the thunderous crashing of the helicopter as it had hit the ground.
He paused, frowning as he thought he could hear the sudden mournful cry of a lone bird far off in the distance breaking through the still and heavy silence. He gazed across the parking lot, ignoring the medic tents as he squinted, trying to pinpoint the sound. For a moment...he swore that he could almost feel the leaves as they slapped damply against his shins as he pushed through the undergrowth, the salt of his sweat as it trickled down his cheeks and stung at his lips. His heart yammering wildly in his chest. The smell of wood and blood and ozone. A young man, not much older than Henry, looking up into the distance as he pointed out the bird. The crack of the gun as it lurched in his hand as he rammed it to the side of the mans head and pulled the trigger, the bitter regret that he didn't want to die like this-he didn't want Blake to know that he had fucking failed and let that black bitch go.
He gazed at his brother, his eyes dull and his brow furrowing in concentration. "His name," Merle said softly. "It weren't never Neil. Gargulio. Yeah, that was it. Gargulio."
"Merle?" Daryl stepped cautiously closer, looking at him in concern. "The hell, brother?"
Merle swallowed tightly and shook his head, the memory fading and drifting away. What the fuck was happening to him? He didn't want to be remembering none of this shit, not now. Not none of it. "It weren't nothing, Daryl," he murmured, biting at his lip.
Daryl paused for a moment, unsure whether to try to pursue his brothers train of thought. Something was obviously bothering him. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hand tugging the strap of the crossbow from off his shoulder. "Merle?" he asked. "You a'right, man?"
"Why the hell wouldn't I be, huh?" Merle bit out quickly. "Can we...let's jus' get the fuck out'a here, little brother."
Daryl shrugged. "A'right," he grunted as he moved quickly off into the direction of the bike.
Merle watched his brother for a moment, and then sighed irritably as he saw Bob loitering at the chain links- he could see that the other man was clearly shaken up.
Bob raised his head and stared at him wide eyed, the fear still marring the dark browns of his eyes. "That...back there-"
"Weren't yer fault," Merle shrugged. "Shit happens."
Bob shuffled on his feet, "I was moving fast, man. I drove right into the drinks. I couldn't do anything. It all happened too quick. Henry...he pulled that shelf right off me, saved my life."
"He was a good kid," Merle said, wincing suddenly. He pushed himself away, suddenly feeling nauseous and so very, fucking tired. His head ached-he could feel the start of a headache pressing at his temple and thudding dully behind his eye.
He nodded curtly at Bob before heading off to the Hyundai where Glenn was waiting for him. "Let's jus' go."
Glenn sighed as he tugged the car door open. He looked across as Merle climbed into the passenger seat. "Everything okay?"
"You take risks what ever the fuck ya do, Glenn. Ain't nothin' safe," he sighed tiredly as he buckled his seat belt. "Shit-ya know I don't think that kid had any family back at the prison? Ya reckon that's fucked up shit, if there ain't none to grieve yer goddamn ass?"
Glenn blinked rapidly, the strain showing on his face, dark bruised smudges under his eyes. "Yeah, dude," he nodded slowly in agreement. "That's pretty fucked up."
He glanced once more at Merle before starting the car up, and they drove back to the prison in a silence that Merle was suddenly grateful for.
...
"You're all back," Zach grinned, pushing himself from the prison wall that he'd been leaning against. "I've been waiting. Where's Henry?" he asked.
Merle looked at the floor, his hand fidgeting about the metal of his prosthesis. "He didn't make it."
Zach shook his head, his eyes widening. "What the hell do you mean-he didn't make it?" he laughed shallowly. "Come on man, stop kidding me. Where is he?"
Merle shook his head, "Ain't no joke," he sighed wearily. "He saved Stookey. Ain't no consolation, an' I'm sorry kid."
Zach slumped back heavily against the wall, "That...shit. That could have been me. If I'd gone."
"Ya didn't go. You're here. Don't go thinkin' on shit like that," Merle grunted sympathetically.
"Henry...he had watch tonight. I should tell Chloe, I guess. I just...I think I just need some time alone. To process. I can't believe he's gone. Like that."
Merle pulled open the door to C-block, "Don't ya worry about his shift. I'll take it."
He watched Zach nod dumbly and after a moment, he turned from him, walking into the prison wing, letting the outer door slam shut behind him. He strode through the prison block, ignoring the few pitiful residents that were sat at the tables talking amongst themselves, gossiping and sharing with each other the menial run of the day shit that they'd been doing. Merle couldn't care less. He wanted...he had to see her. His boots thumped hurriedly up the metal gangway to their cell.
Carol was sat on the bunk, and Merle was thankful that at least there were no damn kids with her. She looked up at him quickly, watching as he strode into the cell, moving the black shirt that she'd been repairing off her lap and onto the night-stand.
"Is everything okay, Merle? Was it a good run?" she asked, slipping to the edge of the bunk.
"No, it fuckin' weren't," he snapped impatiently, "Get your stuff, now."
She looked at him in surprise, her eyes widening, "What's wrong?"
"Ain't nothing wrong. I got watch to take later, an' I ain't wantin' to take it on my fuckin' own. I want ya with me, so go an' get your damn stuff ready."
Carol frowned at him, "You've only just got back." She reached back across to the night-stand, her fingers grasping at his old shirt.
He paced irritably across to her, wrenching the shirt from her grasp and throwing it to the ground. "Will ya stop tryin' to fix shit?"
"I'm not going anywhere-not until you tell me what the hell has gotten into you," she snapped back, and Merle was both surprised and intrigued by the two hot flares of pink that burned high on her cheeks.
He watched her carefully for a moment, then sat on the edge of the bunk, resting his elbow on his knee and leaning his forehead into his hand. He closed his eyes to the pain of the headache flaring at his temples. "The run today? It went to hell. We lost one of the group, Henry," he admitted.
She sighed as she edged across the bunk, sitting closer, and she reached out her hand and touched at his waist, her hand smoothing across his shirt, her palm laying flat against his back. "Oh God, I'm sorry."
He didn't answer straight away, just sat there silently, his skin prickling pleasantly as she rubbed her hand soothingly across his back. He felt the tension start to ease and he wondered at the fact that no matter how he felt, no matter how pissed or angry he was-just her being around always seemed to make him feel better. Better about himself. He'd gone past questioning it any more. She soothed away the restlessness and self loathing that he felt about himself. She made him feel like he could be a better man.
"I weren't meaning shit, ya know, honey?" he murmured, raising his head to look at her. She smiled at him-a soft sad little smile and his heart lurched in his chest. "I gotta take this watch later, an' I jus' want ya with me."
"Okay," she said quietly, nodding. She leaned closer and cupped his chin with her hand, her eyes fixed brightly onto his. "You only had to ask."
"I know," he smiled back at her, and nuzzled his chin into her hand before moving away, his hand catching hers and resting them both on his thigh. He leaned towards her and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, the kiss gentle and long drawn out, her other hand cupping his cheek, her fingers softly stroking his temple. Merle sighed against her as they broke apart, leaning his forehead to hers, resting there for a moment, enjoying the closeness that they shared.
Reluctantly he moved away and looked at her thoughtfully, "I ain't been an' asked ya how yer day went. Without me 'round."
She smoothed her hand over her hair, and he smiled as he saw the little unruly curls poking up between her fingers. He entwined his fingers with hers as their hands lay on his thigh. "It was uneventful. Thankfully," she said. "Patrick excused himself from story time. Said he didn't feel very well. Honestly, I think poor Mika thought he was going to be sick all over her. I just hope what he's coming down with isn't catching."
"You know kids. Always some damn thing. Daryl was the same when he was a brat. Still is a brat," he grinned.
"Merle, stop," Carol chided softly as she leaned her head to his shoulder. He wondered if he should be feeling like he was right now, happy and relieved, knowing that out there some poor fuck had died and for once-he hadn't been the cause of it.
...
