an:part 2 of accidental multi-chapter slash! In which Rick has a hard enough time remembering his own humanity, never mind Merle's.
(All of this part takes place through season 5. It's very disjointed. This is just Merle and Rick au stuff. There is also some heavily implied Governor/Merle here. This feels very lazy/rambly, but I guess I'm going with it. Lockdown has sent me down a strange path. Love me some rare pairs, oh yes!)
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Chapter 2: Housebroken
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There was something to be said for second chances.
Rick had figured, at this point, that Merle must've been one of those.
Yeah, they were risky, but then so were most things in an apocalyptic new world. And sometimes second chances did actually come through.
Only sometimes, though.
"'The Pirate'? What kinda lame ass name is that?"
Trust Merle to focus on the least lethal part of their cannibalistic kidnappers.
Thing was, Terminus had looked promising across sign posts with red-marked proclamations of safety. But the apocalyptic new world had also promised that anything that appeared to be too good to be true... well, it probably was.
Ah, but hindsight was a funny and infuriating thing.
"...a pirate? Can you believe that shit?"
Rick nudged him in the side. "You wanna shut up for a second?"
"Just sayin'. Only missin' a hand. Not like I'm wearing an eyepatch or nothin-"
"You want me to shut you up?" Michonne enquired, in a deceptively cool tone.
"Haha. Where's your sword anyway, 'Samurai'?"
"I'll get it back. You can be the first one I test it out on if you like?"
Merle smirked, and then sunk back against the boxcar some more, like he might have been considering listening to someone at last.
"Sanctuary?"
No such luck.
"We was better off on the road, Friendly. Pickin' off walkers."
Rick grimaced, but didn't have the energy to argue it. More to the point, he knew that Merle was sort of right (yes, the world had turned upside-down, as well as to apocalyptic shit), and many other things would have been preferable to their current predicament.
Rick looked round at everyone else; all bleak expressions outlined against shots of sunlight, peaking through the roof of their new and unwanted prison. Carl was crouched down, still peering through a crack in the wall.
"They're coming," he said.
Michonne straightened up. "We need to get out of here."
Merle peeled away from the wall.
"Alright then, Ringleader," he looked at Rick. "We gonna kick some ass or what?"
Rick nodded.
"They're gonna find out they screwed with the wrong people this time."
8
Carol was one of those Wrong People. She was also one of those Second Chances.
She emerged from the forest, along with Tyreese, covered in gore but with a happier face, and there was a baby in Tyreese's arms. Something that Rick didn't think he'd see in anything but a dream ever again.
He hugged Carol, and the corners of his vision fuzzed over with unexpected tears.
He passed Judith over to Carl, just to observe his tiny family, finally back together at last. It was a small miracle.
"Lucky son of a bitch."
Rick looked over at Merle, who was watching him with a grin that seemed easier than usual.
"What?" Rick said.
"Grimes family must've got nine lives or somethin'."
Rick laughed, and it was full of relief. He hooked an arm around Merle's shoulders, just for a moment.
"Try and be happy for me, you sick bastard."
Merle's grin extended, before he shrugged Rick off of him.
"...guess I can try doin' that."
8
It hadn't escaped Rick's notice that Merle really was trying.
It was the small things; like the way he paused and seemed to check himself, as if to brace for a random conversation with someone he didn't know very well. He might even have bit his lip, and looked uncertain about it. That was interesting. Even the lilt in his voice, whenever he walked away from an argument with Glenn (or anybody at all for that matter), would've been fisticuffs and black eyes just a few short months ago.
Yeah, these were all very small things, but Rick had noticed each and every one of them. And he remembered them all, too.
He noticed them again, when they sat together in the church.
It was an odd sort of evening, in which things seemed normal for a while.
"You know what I think?" Merle said, tilting his drink in Abraham's direction.
His eyes were bright and glittered with the effects of wine, and Rick thought about reminding him that he hated the stuff.
He smiled instead, clinking his wine glass to the other's. "No. What do you think, Merle?"
"I think Carrot top's mouth must stink, cos he's spewin' more bullshit than you could drag out of an elephant's ass-"
Rick jabbed him sharply. "Tell me how you really feel."
"Don't tell me you believe all that shit? About D.C. an' all that?"
Rick shrugged. "They've got a plan, which is more than what we've got right now."
"Don't need a plan. Just need to survive," Merle scowled over his shoulder. "An' we don't need no crackpot priests joining us either."
"Aw, and here I thought you two might exchange lines from the old testament or something."
"Hah. Like hell," Merle took another swig of his drink, and pulled a face.
Rick smiled, and took the glass out of his hand.
"Might be easier if you didn't drink stuff you don't like, you know."
"Screw you," Merle said. He bowed his head, but Rick noticed he was grinning.
Yeah, he was definitely trying.
Of course, trying and actually succeeding was an entirely different game altogether.
8
"Ain't leavin' without my brother. Not an option, Carrot top."
Abraham's lip curled. "Guess we got us a problem, then."
The stand-off between Merle and Abraham had probably been a long time coming, even though they'd only known each other a few days.
It was funny, because Rick had suspected they might actually get along under different circumstances. Maybe after a drunken brawl or two they'd collapse in mutual defeat and bond over a couple more beers and over the top military stories together.
But that wishful thinking. And despite all of his apparent trying, Merle was still often failing.
And he still didn't play nicely with others.
His bladed arm twitched, his eyes daggers on Abraham, as if he was mentally tearing him apart.
To look at them, it didn't seem like an even fight; Abe was full of muscle and about a head taller. But Merle was...Merle, and Rick was already grasping at his arm, pulling him back. He didn't like to imagine what might have come next...
"Ain't leavin' without Daryl-" Merle growled.
"That's right, we ain't," Rick interrupted. He kept his eyes on Abraham. "We're not leaving without him or Carol. I'm sorry, that's the way it is."
He pretended not to notice Merle's surprised face, and then the way his glare softened.
He stepped back a bit, flanking Rick's side, and Michonne joined his other side. They both looked like a couple of impenetrable bodyguards, and the rest of the group made murmured sounds, glancing between them and Abraham. Eventually, between testy words and snide comments, they all came to a precarious agreement. Abraham threatened another fist in Merle's face, and Merle almost got one in, if not for Rick holding him back.
"Is fighting gonna help us find Daryl?" he hissed.
"No, but it'd sure make me feel better," Merle's struggles became feeble against Rick though.
As everyone began to disperse, Merle hung back, still pouting.
"You really wanna stay? Or were you just tryin' to diffuse a situation, Friendly?"
Rick stared at him. "Carol and Daryl are part of the group. We don't leave no-one behind, right?"
Merle didn't say anything. His mouth curved a vague smile as he walked away.
8
8
"Man, I forgot how much fun this shit was."
Merle booted the ex-police officer again, rolling him over and onto his side with all the gleeful enthusiasm of a kid. He pulled his leg back to deliver another vicious blow.
Rick grabbed his arm, dragging him back. "Cut that out."
"What? Just dealing out some good ol' fashioned karma."
"Karma?" Rick wasn't sure he'd ever want to know the details of that. "Just stick to the plan, alright?"
"Whatever," but Merle stepped back anyway. He blew out a disappointed sigh. "If I knew you was gonna be such a buzz kill I'd have stayed at the church to babysit the crackpot priest."
Rick rolled his eyes. "We're here to get Beth. That's it."
Merle squinted sceptically up at the hospital building; it was glowing a warm orange against the sunset.
"We should just shoot em all up," his smile was strange when he looked at Rick again. "Can't trust cops, Friendly. 'Specially not world-gone-to-shit cops."
Rick opened his mouth, and thought about asking him the obvious question.
"Well, I ain't a cop no more, am I?" he said instead.
He wasn't sure why.
"You sure as hell ain't," Merle said.
He shaded his eyes against the sun, and Rick wasn't sure if he was still looking at him, or at something past him.
"Well, do you trust-"
"Somethin's happenin'," Merle interrupted, and ran past him.
Just a short while later, between flooring the gas pedal and mowing down another police officer, the words probed at Rick again;
You sure as hell ain't.
And Merle was right (again).
8
8
"Guy's an asshole. You know that, right?" Sasha said.
Rick nodded, on autopilot. "I know."
She wasn't wrong, but Rick was too tired to do much else about it. Besides, Merle being an asshole was just the status quo these days.
Everyone else would have to suck it up, and Merle would just have to keep trying to get better, that was all.
Rick rubbed his head again. It was burning like fire, and his throat had turned to sandpaper. Every now and then he checked behind him, where the rest of the group generally lagged, having fallen into a congregation of sweaty and bad-tempered spirits.
Daryl was the most elusive of them all, flitting in and out of the forest like an animal on edge. He'd barely said a word since Beth's death. Nobody blamed him for it.
Rick couldn't imagine that Merle would play the part of sympathetic big brother very well. It wasn't as if Daryl was the sort to confide in anyone anyway.
And besides, Merle was busy doing a much better job of being an asshole.
"...shit, man, what was that for?" he flipped Tara off, and she returned it with even greater enthusiasm.
"Go to hell, Merle."
Merle rubbed his reddening jaw as he staggered over to Rick.
"Do you thrive off of being an asshole?" Rick wondered. He slowed a bit, so that Merle could catch up to him. "Or is it always accidental?"
"Haha," Merle's grin stretched. "Was jus' seein' if I could convert her, y'know? Ain't no harm in tryin', right?"
"You deserve a broken jaw and then some. Next time I'll let Abraham keep beating the shit out of you."
Merle snorted. "Carrot top ain't got nothin' on me. Woulda had him gutted out if you'd given me another minute."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Rick asked.
"Ah, he had it comin'. I told ya they were full of bullshit."
"You didn't know that. You just don't like anyone."
"Not true," Merle said, but didn't seem interested in elaborating. He chewed his lip, and then looked at Rick with a more interested face. "Anyways, thought you'd be the one tryin' to beat up on Carrot top and Mullet, after everything."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"C'mon. Your balls must be so big, I'm surprised they still fit in your pants, Friendly," Merle's laughter crackled. "Ripping peoples throats out, executing folk in churches..."
Rick took a breath, unconsciously winded by the words; the flashes of everything that he'd done suddenly hitting him like a mental freight train.
He hoped that Carl hadn't heard any of it.
"...mowing down police officers-"
"Shut up, Merle,"
Another hand clamped down, hard on Rick's shoulder.
"Cool it, Rick," Michonne said, like a warning. Her jaw was clenched; and one arm was braced around her back, ready for her katana.
Then Rick realised that he was holding Merle tight by the shirt collar, drawn up so close that he could see his own furious face, reflected back in faded blue eyes.
Merle didn't struggle at all, slack against Rick's grip. His smirk quivered, as if he was waiting for the inevitable punch to the face.
"...yeah, cool it, Friendly," he drawled. "You got a reputation to uphold here, right?"
Rick pushed him back with a snarl, before noticing the rest of the group had stopped walking. They were all watching him; eyes gathering an apprehension that he was becoming alarmingly used to.
Were they actually frightened of him now?
Rick looked at Carl, but Carl was blinking ahead, as if he hadn't seen any of it.
"Maybe we should-" Michonne said.
There was a rumbling noise above them, before she could finish. Then the skies had broken into grey, and rain was lashing down hard and fast.
Merle raised his arms, making a delighted whooping sound. A few others followed in the childish celebrations, and Rick took a step back, to literally cool himself off.
"Don't let him wind you up," Michonne said, close to his side. She smiled thinly. "Anyway. I think he kinda meant the big balls thing as a compliment."
Rick tilted his head up, to catch the rainwater on his face. He sighed.
"And I'm supposed to be grateful about that?"
He lowered his head in time to see that Merle was still watching him, his mouth shaping a frown. He looked away as quickly as Rick noticed.
"Maybe not," Michonne shrugged. "But you're one of the only people he isn't a complete asshole to."
8
8
The thunder continued to roll, following shards of lightning that flashed through the holes in the barn.
It stunk of death, but it was a decent refuge for the night, thanks to Daryl.
He stood away from the group, keeping hawkish eyes on the door; crossbow raised up, as if he expected a walker invasion at any second.
Rick held onto Judith, who slept as appropriately as a baby throughout the entire ordeal. In the darkness, Rick counted up the various bodies sleeping all around them. One of them was tied up, a complete stranger to the group.
Nearby, Michonne and Merle were stood together, talking and occasionally glancing over at the stranger. Theirs were quiet and conspirational sounds, and neither of them looked pleased about what the other was saying. They made Rick paranoid, but also something else, which he couldn't quite put his finger on.
As if sensing this, they both walked over to him and sat down.
"So what's the plan?" Michonne whispered. "You trust this Aaron guy or what?"
Rick kept his eyes on Judith. "I don't trust him," he admitted.
Michonne rolled her eyes. "You don't trust anyone," she looked at Merle then. "Either of you."
Rick was incredulous, but Merle much less so, as if he knew she was right.
He carved his bladed hand against the wood floor, and his gaze was careful on Rick.
"Well, I reckon we oughta kill 'im," he said.
"You want to kill everyone," Michonne pointed out.
Merle looked only mildly offended. "That's only a little bit true."
Michonne turned back to Rick, much more imploringly. "Listen, I think we need to give this guy a chance. I don't...I don't have a bad feeling about him. Or Alexandria. It's not like how it was with Woodbury, or the Governor..."
She trailed off, eyes averting to the ground.
The pause between them all seemed to be hanging in Rick's court, and he was amazed that they were still waiting on him for a definitive answer.
Still their 'leader', despite everything that had already happened.
"We all have to decide," he said.
"Then I vote we go with him," Michonne said at once.
Another pause, and Merle looked away from Rick, scowling at nothing.
"He ain't no Gov'nor, I'll give him that," he said. Then he stretched out onto his back, as if that was the end of it.
The storm crackled and battered at the barn door as the night wore on, but still most everyone went to sleep, except for Rick.
He stared ahead, watching their 'prisoner', and tried to recall what his own sense of justice was supposed to feel like. Like trying to remember how to be a virtuous cop again.
You sure as hell ain't.
It seemed more and more pointless in this sort of world, anyway.
"You thinkin' 'bout killing him?" Merle's voice said. It was softer, and scratchy with sleep.
"No," Rick said automatically. He blinked down, unable to hide his surprise. He wondered how long Merle had been awake, or if he'd ever gone to sleep in the first place.
"You're bad at lyin'," Merle grumbled. "...I can tell, just hearin' your voice."
"Congratulations, detective Merle."
"Thanks," Merle didn't seem to detect his sarcasm, or if he did, it didn't seem to matter to him.
He stretched out an arm; the intact one, and his fingers splayed out, to curl around staled bits of hay. Only bare inches away from Rick's own hand.
"You think I should?" Rick heard himself ask.
"...hm?"
"...kill him, I mean."
Merle blinked slowly; he looked less awake than asleep. He might have looked confused.
"...why you askin' me?" then he rolled over, so that Rick could only see the outline of his back.
Rick looked at it bleakly.
"I just want to keep everyone safe."
A short sigh, and Merle sounded like he might be falling asleep. "...I'll go with whatever the hell you decide, Friendly."
Rick was involuntarily warmed by the words. He kind of wanted to say thanks.
"Good night, Merle," he said instead.
A few hours later, in the aftermath of the storm and stood amongst fallen trees, the entire group voted.
And so it was decided that they would go to Alexandria.
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Alexandria turned out okay, even if returning to some sort of civilisation was still surreal.
It was weird playing happy families, or something resembling that again. Walking down roads that were lined with neatly trimmed front lawns, and occasional faces that looked too clean and oblivious, waving through windows and inviting them in for a chat and a casserole.
These all seemed like concepts from an extinct life now.
But as the days stuttered past, Rick could imagine himself getting more and more used to it; taking it all in with tentative steps.
Sometimes he wondered about Carol and her personality upheaval, but she seemed to be doing okay otherwise.
Other times he thought it might just work, when he saw stuff like Carl talking with the other kids, like teenagers were supposed to do. Or Glenn and Maggie in their own place, looking the picture of a newly married couple. Or Judith just sleeping in a cot in a nursery room, like she was supposed to.
Or even Daryl, fixing up a motorbike, and talking to Aaron as if they might be friends.
Merle was there sometimes, watching from the sidelines with a wary face, like he obligated to check up on his little brother. Besides that, he spent a lot time pacing about the outskirts of the town like an agitated creature.
As the days went on, he tapered off, and soon he was never around at all.
These were some of those stuttering moments.
"You worried about him?" Michonne asked.
"Yeah," Rick surprised himself with his immediate response. "Gonna get himself killed."
"I was more thinking; are you worried about him kicking us out of Alexandria?" Michonne's smile was slight. "But yeah. I worry about that too."
"Where does he go? I hardly see him."
Michonne looked sheepish, because of course she knew, and Rick wasn't so surprised about that anymore. Merle and Michonne were kind of friends, now.
"Mostly outside, picking off walkers. Or trying to grow himself some weed," she added. "I wish I was joking about that."
Rick sighed in some unexpected relief. He could have laughed.
"Dumbass gonna risk death, just to get high? Sounds about right, I guess."
"I told him he was being stupid, but he doesn't listen," Michonne hesitated. She looked Rick up down, as if to appraise him. "He might listen to you, though."
8
8
The idea that Merle might listen to anybody would have been a bad joke a few months ago. But things were different now.
A lot had happened, and Rick knew that Merle was still trying to be better.
He was still failing a lot too, though.
"You need to housebreak some of your people, Rick," Deanna said.
She was stood on the porch, her house back-lit by the sounds of music and figures talking in windows.
The little get-together had been going well at first; an official sort of welcoming party for Rick's group. Not everyone had gone; Daryl had opted out, and Sasha had left early. Rick had convinced Merle to come along, because it'd seemed like a good idea in his head. Imagining a single moment in which the Alexandrian's might warm up to him, and realise he wasn't so much a wild dog as they'd thought.
So much for that.
Now there was blood splitting some guy's lip (Rick couldn't remember his name...Paul...?) and Merle was trying to go in for another punch.
Rick dug his fingers into his arm. "I'm sorry," he said to Deanna, and dragged Merle away.
They walked (well; Rick walked, Merle mostly staggered and swore) down the deserted Alexandrian street for just a little while. The air was cool and the night sky was clear; it would have been pretty and soothing, if not for the circumstances.
"You're ruining this for all of us," Rick kept a tight hold on Merle's jacket. "Stop being such a jackass for once in your life-"
Merle spat blood out his mouth, yanking away from him. He turned round, in a disorientated effort to confront Rick.
"He's the jackass...I was doin' ya'll a favour-"
Rick punched him, not particularly hard, but Merle teetered and went down on the ground anyway.
He lay strewn out on his back in the middle of the sidewalk, laughter breathless and echoing about the little town. The glowing light of the nearby house party, still teeming with drinks and conversation, flashed over him occasionally.
"Never even wanted t' go to this dumbass party, anyways..." he raised a hand (the bladed one) to rub his head. "Ah, shit," and then dropped it back on the ground.
Rick noticed the thread of blood, sliding thinly down his forehead.
He sighed, and knelt down to him.
"C'mon. Let me get you home."
"'Home'?" Merle laughed again, but much more sourly. "This place ain't home. I'd rather be out there...playin' with walkers...than playin' dress-up..."
He tailed off with an uneven kind of exhalation, more like a shudder. Then his focus returned properly to Rick, and his eyes narrowed and trawled Rick's entire body.
"What're you doin' here, anyway, Friendly? You really wanna play sheriff again?...that really what you want to do now?"
Rick stared at him, and was confused by his own uncertainty.
That wasn't right; Merle wasn't supposed to catch him out like that. Make him question simplistic things, make his stomach twist a knot, and recall everything he'd done to reach this whole world-gone-to-shit scenario. That wasn't fair.
Rick glared.
"What do you want, Merle? Cos you ain't helping anyone, least of all yourself, right now."
Merle rolled his eyes to the side. "Spare me another lecture, Friendly. Waste of both our time."
Rick was inclined to agree.
"I'm just trying to do what's right for all of us," he said anyway. "You might wanna help with that."
Hah. These people...they're soft as shit. You can't help people like that."
"I can."
Merle shook his head. "Nah. You ain't a cop no more, remember."
Rick opened his mouth to argue the point, but it was difficult when he knew that Merle was right (stupid how that kept happening).
"We can still help people, Merle."
Merle huffed, and tilted his head away. He glared at the dark sky with a childish pout.
"That Pete's still a jackass."
Rick felt his mouth move into a faint smile. "I'll take your drunkass word on that one. Now get up."
He held his hand out, and Merle looked at it warily.
"...think I drank too much."
"Yeah, no shit," Rick said. "Now c'mon."
And then Merle took his hand.
8
8
Michonne was right; apparently Merle did listen to Rick.
The change wasn't obvious at first, but it was enough to convince Deanna that he wasn't totally feral.
He didn't speak to the guy call Pete, nor offer up any apology (not that Rick had expected it), but he did offer himself up for runs, and for guard duty. In between annoying Sasha and antagonising Abraham and Eugene, he was keeping himself occupied; sitting atop the Alexandrian wall, assault rifle in hand.
He'd become almost ornamental up there, and it made sense. Being ex-military, it was probably some weird consolation for him; to be able to do something useful, and something that he was so good at.
Just like Woodbury, probably.
Rick was just beginning to envision a community in which his entire group might fit in at last, when the world reminded him (as it tended to do, these days) that every day was like the possibility of a new tragedy.
"Glenn's right," Merle said. And if Merle agreed with Glenn, something was seriously wrong.
It was; because Noah had been killed that afternoon.
A routine run that had ended in a couple of needless deaths; and for once Glenn was the one picking the fights and throwing punches, and Merle was holding him back. It was bizarre seeing him attempt to diffuse a situation like that, and Rick could have offered him a pleased glance, if only he had been paying attention.
Of course Merle wasn't very good at playing mediator anyway, but then nobody was. Someone had died, and everyone was looking for somebody else to blame.
"Was just a matter of time, Friendly," Merle said, later on. "This town don't know what they're dealin' with out there."
"We just need to give them more time."
"You wanna lose more of our own people?"
Rick looked at him. "Since when did you care about that?" he was more intrigued than he wanted to be.
Merle sneered at the ground. "Was just wonderin', is all."
Rick managed a weak smile in his direction.
"Right."
8
8
Alexandria was strange like that; something horrific one day, something mundane the next.
Between tallying up the armoury with Rosita, discussing how to effectively kill a walker with Deanna, and then finding himself smiling at a woman called Jessie, and giving her his opinion on an interesting owl sculpture she'd been working on. It was like whiplash.
Carol could be relied upon for a good variety of things like that; recipes, weapons, and the idea that they might have to take over the town themselves some day. She'd gotten brutal, but it didn't surprise Rick.
One day she did surprise him, though.
"I need to tell you something."
And then she told him about Pete.
It would be another I told you so moment for Merle (not that Rick was going to give him the pleasure), because as it turned out, Pete really was a jackass.
88
88
Perhaps he should have discussed it with Michonne first, or Deanna, or anyone else for that matter.
But Merle was there instead, sat smoking atop the Alexandrian wall, and somehow as resolute as that.
"Hey, Friendly," Merle waved. "Nice threads."
His grin gleamed in the dark, and Rick couldn't tell if his sarcasm was serious or not.
"Hey. You got a minute?"
"Got more than a minute. Bored out my brain."
Merle hopped down the wall ladder, and gestured to the nearby barricade of barrels as he sat down on one.
"What brain?" Rick said. He sat down and felt Merle's jab, not very hard at all, against his rib.
"I should kick your ass for that, Friendly."
"You couldn't."
"I could. Just don't feel like it right now."
"Of course," Rick smirked a bit.
The pause was easy between them; Rick had gotten used to it. Dare he say, he even kind of liked it. Merle's company was easy. There wasn't any pretence of what he was supposed to be when Merle was there. He didn't have to worry about playing the moral card anymore, because Merle seemed to know him better than that.
Merle seemed to know Rick better than anyone, these days.
Funny how that had happened.
Rick kept his gaze locked ahead, observing the house he'd left only a few minutes before.
"Oh. I get it," Merle said suddenly, a grin reaching him. "You want tips on how to get some blondie action, right?"
"What?" Rick baulked. "What are you talking about?"
"I've seen the way she looks at you. Pretty damn obvious, Friendly."
"Jessie? You know she's married, right? And anyway, I'm not...that is not why I'm here, Merle."
Merle looked amused. "Hey. We all gotta get our rocks off sometimes. I get that, man."
Rick raised a brow at him.
"You do?"
He wasn't sure what prompted his interest. Maybe it was the unusually careful way that Merle glanced at him, as if to gage his own reaction.
And Merle didn't do 'careful' very often, after all.
"Well, sure," Merle said. "Still got my one good hand, don't I?"
Rick snorted. "Sounds real romantic."
"Romance ain't necessary," Merle adjusted his rifle strap, easing it around his back some more. It was a rare and unguarded poise, and when he looked at Rick again his expression was even more so. "Gov'ner wasn't into none of that romantic shit, either."
Rick blinked, and absorbed the words with a ripple of shock.
"What?"
"Weren't nothin' serious," Merle said, like some casual admittance. "He was horny as hell, an' so was I. Worked out a pretty good deal for a while there."
Rick curled his lip. "I didn't know you-"
"Ain't the first time," Merle interrupted him. His eyes traced Rick's own for a few long seconds, and his smirk faded a bit. He flicked a cigarette out on the floor. "Reckon it's gonna be the last time, though."
Rick cleared his throat, suddenly noticing how dry it was, for whatever reason.
He shook his head at the ground. "Damn."
Another pause, and it wasn't awkward, but it gave room for Rick to think about things that made heat creep up and onto his face. He wasn't sure why.
"What did you want, anyway?" Merle said, as if he was oblivious to everything (maybe he was). "Figure you're not here to find out about my nooky action since the world went to shit."
"...that is true."
Rick took a few seconds to regather his thoughts, and then he relayed everything that Carol had told him about Pete; his temper, his dealings with Jessie and the kids, and the implications that came with all of that. It was a relief to tell someone else, or to at least get an insight other than Carol's and his own, which were both broken in their own ways. Never mind that Merle's might be the most broken of all.
To his credit, Merle straightened up; brow creasing and hand perhaps unconsciously pulling the gun strap back around the front of his torso. It was funny, or maybe heartening, to see him shift into something so alert and so serious. Like he actually cared.
Rick liked seeing it.
"Well," Merle said at last. "Guess I could kill him. If you like."
He looked at Rick with a certain level of expectancy; as if Rick was supposed to confirm it, or give the official order.
There was something both incredibly flattering and awful about that.
Rick hesitated. "We don't need to be so hasty. Not yet."
"Ain't gonna get better, y'know. People like that don't."
"You did," Rick said, unthinking.
Merle scowled. "I ain't a wifebeater. Only ever knew one."
"I didn't mean..."
Merle just waved his hand, batting away the idea as if it didn't bother him at all. "Just tell me when. I'll be happy to take the asshole out."
Rick considered, before pressing a hand onto Merle's shoulder. Merle barely flinched (he usually did, before shrugging him away).
"It's like you're my right hand man or something."
Merle laughed, and raised his bladed arm. "You know that's impossible, 'Friendly."
He didn't shrug Rick away this time, though.
8
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Merle killed Pete a few weeks later.
In the heat of it, Rick didn't have any regrets. Pete was a murderer, and he'd had it coming.
But the aftermath was always going to be very different.
The way Michonne looked at Rick, as if he was the one who'd plunged a bayonet into Pete's throat. Or the way Daryl's face twisted into something like disappointment, when he looked at his older brother again. And then Deanna, standing at the freshly dug grave site of her husband.
There were two pools of blood still crawling out and along the roadside. Nobody wanted to clean it up yet.
"What a shit show that was," Merle said.
Rick blinked away from the bathroom window, and stared at him.
He was slightly hunched over the sink; water and blood spiralling down it like bright red ribbons. He was having some difficultly cleaning the majority of the gore off of his bladed hand.
Of all the things, of everything he'd seen, it was weird how it was this that made Rick's chest hurt, and somehow remind him of his own conscience. How stupid.
He spoke to the ground;
"I ain't your Governor, you know."
Merle looked up, face reflecting confusion in the mirror. "Hell you talkin' about?"
Rick leaned against the door frame, massaging the ache in his temples.
"I mean...I'm not here to order you about, or make you do the dirty work."
Merle's mouth twitched into a sneer. He wiped an arm over his brow, before turning around.
"Ah, that's a real shame. I always liked gettin' down and dirty with you, Friendly."
"Can't you be serious for once?"
"Always am," Merle shrugged, and seemed to mean it. "Don't be a dumbass. I know you ain't the Gov'nor."
He peeled slowly away from the sink. Only a few steps away from Rick, but made no attempt to move past him. His bayonet arm still dripping blood onto the white tiled floor.
Rick wasn't inclined to move either, for whatever reason. Their gazes held, and Rick could feel his breath hovering in his chest, waiting for Merle to say something else, far more significant.
Of course he didn't.
Merle raised his arm and pulled the rest of the duct tape off. "Think I need a replacement," he looked at the broken blade with a sorrowful face.
"We'll get you a new one," Rick said.
"Thanks," and then Merle smiled vaguely too. "Hah. Weren't you supposed to be house breakin' me or somethin', Friendly?"
Rick snorted. "I dunno. I ain't a cop no more, remember?"
Merle's nod was slow, as if he was truly deliberating it. And that was a rare thing, Rick had come to learn. Merle didn't deliberate anything or anyone for very long, usually.
Merle's gaze slid to the side, as if recalling something more important.
"Anyway," he said. "If you was anythin' like the Gov'nor, pretty sure I'd be gettin' good n' screwed right about now."
He pushed past Rick, before he could properly respond to that.
It wasn't as if Rick could fathom his own reaction anyway; inexplicably heated cheeks and ears, palms clamming up and fingers curling harder against them. Not really forming into fists, but something just as tense.
"Merle,"
He reached out and grasped Merle's good wrist, effectively spinning him back round.
"Hm?" Merle raised a brow.
"I'm not your Governor," Rick wasn't sure anymore, whether it was a reassurance to Merle or himself, as he pulled at a blood-stained shirt sleeve.
In any case, the gap between them blurred away into nothing, and Merle's lips felt softer than Rick had expected them to be.
Merle did not resist at all, even if he did look surprised, as he slipped backwards against the bloody sink.
"...shit," he murmured instead, mouth flickering an uneven kind of grin. The blade fell from his good hand, clattering noisily onto the floor.
And then he let Rick kiss him again.
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an: This pairing crept up and then hit me hard. Very sneaky. will unstable ex-cop and trash king actually get together? will Rick be more romantic than the Governor? Does Merle even like romance? Will he ever say something nice, besides how big Rick's balls are (probably not)? and what will happen when Negan finally appears?! Many questions...and possibly not that many answers, in the next (possible?) chapter! Please leave a comment! I would appreciate it a lot. And tell me what you'd like to happen, I'm intrigued! Also please try to forgive bad writing. I write this crap in the earliest hours.
(note: 'the pirate' is in reference to the nicknames the terminus folk gave our crew! I thought that might fit Merle.)