Seventy Times Seven Million
The pastor was nearly finished with his sermon when Merle showed up.
Beth was so enamored with listening to the pastor preach that she didn't notice the chill running down her spine. Suddenly, there was a cold breeze blowing over her right shoulder and a loud voice speaking directly into her ear.
"What the fuck was that, blondie?!"
She jumped in surprise and reactively hissed out, "Jesus—!"
Hershel's head whipped to the side and he shot her a quizzical look, gray eyebrows furrowed.
"Jesus—I can feel Him in my heart today," she lied, offering an apologetic half-smile.
Her daddy simply put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to keep quiet. She nodded.
Merle was cackling just behind her. Beth looked over to her other side and found Daryl gazing at her. When she met his eyes, he silently mouthed, "Merle?"
She nodded in confirmation, lips tightly pursed. He grunted and turned back to focus on the pastor.
"Well?" Merle pestered. "What the fuck happened last night? Huh? That batty old Witch used you ta talk shit to me? Or was that some kinda dumbass prank? 'Cause it sure as shit wasn't funny."
Beth glanced over her shoulder barely long enough to flash him a frown and a glare. But the person sitting in the pew directly behind her spotted it and gave her a puzzled look. She quickly shook her head and turned back to watch the pastor.
There was no way to talk to Merle in the middle of a packed church.
"An' now you got Daryl in fuckin' church? What the hell is goin' on here?! I know he didn't come here on his own free will. You guilt trip him or somethin'? What kinda stupid fuckin' ideas you been puttin' in his head? You better start fuckin' talkin', princess."
She ignored him, though her shoulders were stiff, her back was tensed, and she was struggling to keep her lips shut. She couldn't even pay attention to the sermon anymore. She was just anxious for it to end so she could slip away somewhere private and talk to the dead guy that was nagging her.
Eventually, Merle got fed up and disappeared again. But Beth still couldn't focus and enjoy the sermon like she had been before he showed up. Her niggling Gift was at the back of her mind once more. Even as the pastor preached about love and solidarity and eternal paradise.
For some reason, listening to someone talk about the Lord and His Good Book just wasn't the same. There was so much more to it. And she could never explain it to anyone.
Then she felt a nudge against her thigh and glanced over. Daryl was looking at her with an expression that said, "we'll figure it out." He gave a nod of reassurance.
Her shoulders relaxed. She reminded herself she wasn't alone in this.
She never had been.
The sermon ended and the congregation sang the last of their hymns, then they went through all their prayer requests. After that, the preacher dismissed the service, which meant it was time for everyone to mingle around and say their goodbyes on their way out the door.
Of course, the Greene family was very popular, so Hershel, Maggie, Shawn, and Glenn would all be preoccupied with talking to several members of the congregation before they would actually leave. Beth took this opportunity to slip away to the restroom—a small, single-toilet room in the back hallway of the church.
As soon as she shut the door and locked it, Merle appeared within the confined space. He leaned against the wall next to the sink and glared at Beth with narrowed eyes, sucking his teeth in the obnoxious way he always did.
She let out a breath she'd been subconsciously holding and met his gaze with determination. Before he could even open his mouth, she started, "Listen, I had nothing to do with that. Florence invaded my head and used me to talk to you—just like she did with Morgan back at his cabin. I had no control over what she said. Morgan was right: it was kinda violating."
"So you summoned 'er?" He guessed, his voice low. "Couldn't get the message across yerself, so you brought the ol' Witch into it?"
"No, not even close," Beth argued. "I don't know how to summon her. I don't even know if she can be summoned. But obviously, she thought it was necessary to speak to you herself. So maybe you should take her words to heart."
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. So why the fuck is Daryl here with ya? How'd you convince him ta be a part of this shitshow?"
"I didn't," she said simply. Then she shrugged. "My dad invited him. I told him he didn't have to come, but he said he wanted to."
Merle scoffed. "Bullshit."
"Bull true," she countered. "What—you weren't listening to what he said when we met him outside earlier?"
He wavered, glancing away.
Yeah. That's what she thought. Merle was always listening. He'd heard what Daryl said just as clearly as she had. He already knew Daryl had come here of his own accord.
"Still think you guilt-tripped 'im," Merle muttered, scowling.
Beth rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and mimicking his stance. "Think whatever you want. Fact of the matter is, your brother is his own person, and he can make his own choices. Even if those choices defy everything you tried to teach him."
He started to argue, "Only thing I tried ta teach him was not to fall for scams like this, but now you—"
"Did you not listen to anything Florence told you?" She cut him off abruptly. "Or are you just too stupid to understand it?"
Merle's face went bright red and the veins started popping up on his forehead and neck. "Now listen here, sweetheart, you don't fuckin' talk to me like that! Don't you go forgettin' I'm the goddamn key here. I'm the one you gotta help if you wanna save Daryl's precious li'l soul from Hell."
"Oh, I haven't forgotten," Beth quipped back, her tone dripping with sarcasm and resentment. "But I think you've already forgotten what you were told. I'm the one in charge here. And you know it. And quite frankly, you should be grateful that Daryl wants anything to do with the whole situation. He could've easily turned his back and let you figure it out on your own. 'Cause I dunno if you've noticed—with your head so far up your ghostly ass—but he doesn't care that much about his own soul. He's more worried about you. Even though he doesn't owe you a damn thing."
"Now that's where yer dead wrong," Merle sneered.
She quirked a brow and returned his glare with one of her own, silently daring him to mouth off some more. "You can say that all you want, but yer gonna feel awfully stupid sittin' down there with Legba and watching your brother go on to live the life you never thought he was capable of having. You can keep spouting your nonsense an' trying to convince me that he's gonna end up just like you or your dad, but you know you're wrong. 'Cause if he was gonna turn out like that, he'd already be that way. But he's not. He's so much better. I know you know you're wrong; you told me yourself that day at Morgan's cabin. You know it so well that it terrifies you."
Merle snapped his lips shut and stared at her with icy blue eyes, his scowl growing deeper on his aged face.
"You screwed your brother up big time. You screwed him over—completely. Even after you were dead," she continued, the anger rising in her voice. "And yet, he's still desperate to save you. In any way he can. If that doesn't show you just how different he is, then I don't know what could."
To her surprise, Merle let out a cold laugh. He shook his head and the scowl turned into a malicious half-smile. "Ain't nothin' more'an blood loyalty, baby. We're brothers. Can't nothin' come between that."
"Well if you were my brother, I would've stopped tolerating you years ago," she remarked. "Blood or not."
He laughed again. "That's not very Christian-like of you."
"As if you know anything about being a good Christian," she said.
He licked his lips and glared at her, unblinking. "Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven. Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened unto a certain king, which would take account of his servants."
Beth's face fell and she blinked, shocked into silence. Her arms tightened across her chest.
The silence hung heavy between them, though Merle's smirk didn't fade. It only grew wider. He cackled. "Or did'ja forget that part, Greene? You one'a them cherry-pickin' Christians, jus' like the rest of 'em? Ya only abide by the parts of the Bible you think are worth abidin' by?"
She narrowed her eyes and frowned.
When she didn't have an immediate response, he laughed triumphantly. "No comeback, huh?" He grinned, raising his eyebrows. "Wha'samatter? You surprised a blasphemer like me could know yer precious book so well?"
She huffed out a breath. "Pfft… I'm just surprised you can read."
His grin disappeared. "Oh, fuck off!"
Beth couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction.
"Yeah, you think yer real fuckin' smart, dont'cha? Just 'cause yer still alive," he remarked snidely. "That Witch don't know what the hell she's talkin' about. She don't know us. She ain't seen all the shit me an' Daryl've seen. Not even close."
Beth sighed. "Dude, she's over four hundred years old. She's seen more shit than you could ever begin to imagine."
She was beginning to wonder how many more times she would have this same conversation with him. He'd been sounding like a broken record since day one, and it only got worse the longer she knew him. Would he ever learn that being stubborn did nothing to benefit anyone, least of all himself?
But then his shoulders went slack and he let out a deep sigh, and she wasn't sure if he'd taken note of the expression on her face or not, but he glanced away, shaking his head. "Fuckin' Christ… I'm exhausted, blondie."
"You an' me both," she muttered.
He shook his head again and met her eyes, arms falling to hang listlessly at his sides. "Nah, I mean with everything. This's the kind of exhaustion that don't even go away once yer dead."
She frowned. A deep sadness was evident on his face, with just a twinge of fear, and she could tell the Witch of Youghal's words were still weighing heavy on his mind.
As they should be.
He went on, "I busted my ass to make sure Daryl wouldn't grow up ta be like our old man. But it still wasn't enough… I did my best though, alrigh'? I really fuckin' did. I did what I could with what I had. But hell… I ain't ever had much. My mama gave me a will to survive, an' my pa gave me a mean temper. Had ta try an' figure everythin' else out on my own."
Was that remorse shining in his eyes? She couldn't be sure. She kept her mouth shut and stared back at him expectantly.
The eye contact must've been too much because he looked away again, crossing his arms back over his chest to mimic Beth's stance and turning towards the wall. He mumbled low and quiet, "So yeah. I fucked up. I know I did. But Christ, can ya blame a guy fer wantin' to keep a shred of dignity after death?"
Beth felt a tiny surge of hope. He gets it, she thought. He knows what has to be done, he's just scared. There's a big difference between being ignorant and being stupid—and Merle Dixon's never been stupid. Not really.
She spoke firmly, trying to remain gentle as to avoid his defensive reaction, "No, I can't blame you for that. But it's time to put it all aside, Merle."
He turned his head and looked at her, his brow creased.
"It's time to leave it in the past," she said. "You can't fix the mistakes you made in life—or the ones you made right after you died—but you can take advantage of the second chance you've been given."
"How?" Merle snapped, returning to his usual defiance. Though it wasn't nearly as strong as usual. "I can't do jack shit from here. Can't help you track down The Governor, can't keep Daryl from gettin' murdered. Shit, I can't even talk to nobody 'cept you. So how the fuck am I gonna be any goddamn help?"
"Well, if you're genuinely asking, then I think following Florence's advice is step one," Beth said. She raised an eyebrow. "'Cause actin' like an insolent child isn't helping anybody."
He sucked his teeth and gave her a skeptical once-over. But he seemed to be contemplating her words.
Finally, he lifted his chin and leaned back just slightly, arms still tightly crossed over his chest. "Fair enough."
She thought she'd misheard him for a second.
Then he added, "I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong."
Since when? She thought. But she didn't dare say it aloud. (This time.)
He sighed with resignation. "But even if I don't make it any harder fer y'all, I ain't much help. Think we got a long ways to go 'fore we can say we did our best."
Beth shrugged. "We don't have to do our best. We just have to try."
She didn't want to get her hopes up just yet, but maybe this could be a new turning point for the dead Dixon. Mostly thanks to the Witch of Youghal, of course.
Only time would tell.
Merle smirked. "See, this is why I like you, blondie. Ya got the balls to call me out every once in a while. I respect that."
"I've been calling you out since you showed up," she said, rolling her eyes. "And I don't have balls, I have ovaries."
"Whatever. Lady balls. Better?"
"Not really… But we'll work on it."
Beth left the tiny restroom at the back of the church and rejoined her family near the front doors, only to be bombarded by a slew of people who were eager to dote on her and ask her how she was doing, what she was up to, and who was that nice man in need of a haircut that had come along with her? Daryl had apparently dipped out as soon as the service was over, but she quickly spotted him through a window, standing outside and smoking a cigarette. Merle lingered around for a couple minutes before he disappeared, though she knew he would be right outside along with his brother.
She went back to pretending like it was just another Sunday, putting on her most polite smile and chit-chatting with the members of the congregation. Luckily, her "new friend" was overshadowed by the shiny engagement ring on Maggie's finger, so most folks were preoccupied with interrogating Glenn and asking Maggie about every detail pertaining to her future wedding. For once, Beth was more than happy to be standing in her big sister's shadow.
Just like every Sunday, the Greenes were one of the last families to leave church. Hershel finally tore himself away from his conversation with the old Mulberry couple and said his goodbyes, and then he led his gaggle of children outside. Glenn, Maggie, and Shawn headed off towards the truck, caught up in their own conversation, but Hershel stayed back to look over at Daryl, and Beth remained close at her dad's side.
Daryl met them at the bottom of the steps, exhaling a final cloud of smoke from the cigarette he'd just tossed.
"Daryl!" Hershel beamed. "Are you runnin' off already?"
The living Dixon appeared a bit confused, glancing to Beth. She returned his look with a puzzled expression of her own.
What did her father have in mind? She thought he'd be shaking Daryl's hand and bidding goodbye at this point.
"Uh—figured I would," he responded, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Thanks fer invitin' me, though. It was a real nice service."
"My pleasure," Hershel said, smiling. "But how about you join us for lunch? It's a tradition—we always go to Jerry's Diner after church. Chicken and waffles and hot coffee. No better way to finish off a nice service."
"Jerry's Diner?" Daryl asked. "Over on Broad Street?"
"That's the one," Hershel clarified. "Come eat with us. As many waffles as ya want and as much coffee as ya can drink. My treat, I insist."
Daryl's brow furrowed and Beth could see his ears turning pink from where they peeked out through his hair. He shot her another look, but all she could do was shrug sheepishly.
"Well," he started. "I dunno, I ain't tryin'a impose or nothin', and—"
"Nonsense," Hershel cut him off and took a step closer. He clapped a hand down on the younger man's shoulder, still smiling. "Come along with us. The best part of church on Sundays is havin' lunch afterwards."
Daryl's ears were bright red now, and his cheeks were quickly turning the same shade. He cleared his throat awkwardly, though he didn't step away from Hershel. Instead, he straightened his back, flashed Beth a somewhat apologetic glance, and said, "Sure, why not. I'll follow y'all there."
Beth was a bit shocked, though she could do nothing more than smile and nod when her daddy turned his gaze on her and asked, "Doesn't that sound nice, Doodlebug?"
Merle was standing off to the side as he watched the scene play out, cackling maliciously. And she was really wishing he'd disappear again.
to be continued…
A/N: The "bullshit" "bull true" line was meant as a nod towards Orange Is The New Black because Carol and Barb Denning were THE best characters to ever appear in that show.
