AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Normally, Daryl would have been horrified to even entertain the idea of telling himself that it was perfectly fine to go on a hunt and come home empty-handed. Usually, when he was hunting, he was focused. He needed meat for his family, and that was a driving force unlike any he'd ever known in his life. Normally, the thought of coming home without anything—and, especially, of suggesting to himself that it was really no big deal—would be horrifying.
But today wasn't really a normal day, and this wasn't a normal hunt. A little extra meat couldn't hurt any current situation, but it wasn't an absolute necessity. They weren't really out here for the hunting. Daryl knew that, and he was pretty sure that Merle knew it, too.
Still, it felt easier, somehow, to come out here under the false pretense of hunting. They'd packed their supplies for a day hunt and had brought their packed rations. They'd wandered some decent distance from Woodbury—and not in the direction of the prison—and they'd stopped near a place that Merle identified as usually offering up some decent hunting.
They didn't really speak, beyond the absolutely necessary words, until they'd reached the spot that Merle identified as his favorite little spot out here, and he immediately began setting up a small, temporary camp where they could settle.
"You make up with Andrea—everything you had to make up?" Daryl asked.
Merle laughed to himself and muttered a thanks as Daryl lit a cigarette for him and passed it to him before lighting one of his own.
"I'm alive an' my ass ain't slept outside," Merle said. "So, what the hell you think?"
"You give her a ring?" Daryl asked. "Ask her to marry you?"
Merle hummed. He'd left off unpacking the camp. Like Daryl, he was ready to abandon the pretense that hunting anything—at least anything that moved—was their reason for being out here. Now, instead of unpacking, Merle nudged a rock around with the toe of his boot like it was an enthralling activity.
"Give her a band," Merle said. "She said she'd marry me. The band don't fit—and I guess she's gonna want somethin' with a stone in it or somethin' too. So—she's gonna go down and trade it out for somethin' in them boxes that she likes."
"You ain't goin' with her?"
"If I was any damn good at pickin' that shit out, she wouldn't need to exchange it," Merle said. "Told her—she had my blessin' to handle it herself. Get her somethin' that made her happy."
"Won't mean the same if you don't give it to her."
"You a woman now?"
Daryl laughed to himself.
"No, but I got a wife, and I know they sentimental about things. The ring don't really matter all that much to Carol, but she likes havin' one OK. Likes that it shows everyone she's—you know—married. And I ain't exactly against that. She likes me havin' one, too. You gonna wear a band?"
"I believe Andrea wouldn't accept nothin' less," Merle said. "Protectin' against the kittens an' all." He laughed to himself. "She mighta said the same thing—or damn close to it. She'd pick out what the hell she wanted, but I was to pick out mine 'fore we get Hershel to do the whole 'I do' part of it all."
"Feels better'n you think," Daryl said. "To have something physical there to remind you that—she's there, even when you don't see her."
"I'm not the sentimental kind," Merle said.
"You've always been more damn sentimental than you think."
Merle laughed nervously and looked at his hand.
"At least fuckin' Officer Friendly left me the hand I need for gettin' hitched, right? He musta dreamed up, back then, that I was gonna need it someday. Asshole." Merle walked over, found himself a comfortable place to sit, and sat down before he continued speaking. Daryl followed him, dropping down in the shade to while away a few hours with his brother before they headed back to Woodbury. "You'da thought he'd have took this one," Merle mused. "Tried to save my ass from his livin' hell on Earth—that harpy he's married to…"
"They ain't married no more," Daryl said. "At least—they're as unmarried as they can be. Which, all things considered, is about the same as us bein' as married as we can be. Hell—that's the whole damn reason his ass ain't wanted to come here and leave the prison. No matter what the hell he ever says about it, his main concern was livin' some damn where Lori don't."
"Can you blame him?" Merle asked, smirking at Daryl. Daryl swallowed down his amusement and shook his head.
"You sure you don't wanna—drop Andrea an' try to pick up Olive Oyl?" Daryl teased.
"I'd rather cut my dick off first," Merle said. Oddly enough, Daryl detected no teasing in his tone, which made the statement all the more amusing.
"You love her, Merle?" Daryl asked after a moment.
"Olive Oyl?" Merle asked. It only took Daryl's expression for Merle's faux-serious face to crack and reveal a shit-eating grin. "Hell—Daryl—I guess you know I do."
"I guess everybody does," Daryl offered. "You're gonna love your kid, Merle."
"That a question or…you tellin' me that?" Merle asked.
"If I need to tell you, then I'm tellin' you."
Daryl could see that Merle was still troubled. The thing about Merle was that he was good at hiding how he was feeling any time that he really wanted to hide it. He didn't want to hide this. He wasn't really trying. He wanted Daryl to see it. He wanted Daryl to help him—that, really, was why they were out here.
He was low, and he was hoping, even if he didn't say it, to be lifted up a notch or two.
"What'cha so damn scared of?" Daryl asked. "Cut the shit, Merle."
"Andrea's scared of kittens," Merle mused. "Wants me to wear a ring. Like wearin' a ring keeps the kittens away. Like there ain't never been a man that did what the hell he wanted despite the damn ring growin' cold on his finger."
"You want kittens, Merle?" Daryl asked. He'd asked the question before.
"Kittens can't handle my ass. I'm too damn rough for 'em. Don't wanna put up with their shit no more than they wanna put up with mine."
"Would you want 'em if they could handle you?" Daryl asked. "If some damn kitten was to come walkin' down that road right now—hell bent and determined to have your ass an' promisin' that she could handle whatever the fuck you was to throw at her—would you want her? Would you go your ass back to Woodbury, tell Andrea to throw whatever rings she picked out back in some box, and to get her ass away from you—that you don't want her no more 'cause you picked a different pussy?"
Merle rolled his eyes in Daryl's direction. There was a hint of warning in his expression. It said far more than any bullshit speech that Merle had ever given.
"I didn't fuckin' think so," Daryl said, lighting another cigarette for himself and his brother. "Be fuckin' straight with the whole thing, Merle. Nobody's gonna give you shit."
"What kinda fuckin' old man you think I'ma make?" Merle said, anger bubbling up in his words. "What kinda damn husband, Daryl? I'm not much more than a fuckin' hair off from bein' our old man."
"But it's an important fuckin' hair, Merle," Daryl snapped back. He calmed himself intentionally. "Listen—tell me this…if you woke up tomorrow an' Andrea was gone? How the hell would you feel?"
"You know how the hell I'd feel," Merle grumbled.
"And you an' me both know that, say it or don't, that's one of the damned things that scares your ass. You scared that one day, she's gonna just be gone. Decide she's had enough of your ass, maybe. Maybe not. Either way, she just—disappears. That's part of your nightmares, if you have 'em."
"You gettin' at somethin'?" Merle asked. He was irritated, and almost ready to snap—almost. But he wouldn't dare to really snap at Daryl—not right then—because he wanted to hear whatever it was that Daryl wanted to say.
"I know because—brother, I know what the hell that feels like. Not just the fear but the…losin'. It changes your ass. Knocks the damn wind outta you like you can't fuckin' believe. Makes you where it don't hardly feel worth fightin' to draw another breath—don't give a shit that the whole damn drive of any animal is to keep on livin'. You don't wanna live. Not when that nightmare becomes your fuckin' reality. Listen—I mean—I told your ass what happened with Carol. With the tombs. But I didn't tell you the whole damn thing."
"What else is there to tell?" Merle asked. "She got lost. You thought her ass was dead. You found her."
"She was gone, Merle. Just like that. She was just gone. Nothin' was left of her. If I think about it now? Every fuckin' muscle in my body still hurts the way it did then. Rememberin' her like I was—thinkin' I weren't never gonna touch her again. I weren't never gonna feel what it was like to hold her in my arms. Sleep next to her. Just to hear her breathin', Merle. It's amazing the shit you miss when you got the whole rest of your life to miss it."
"I hear what'cha sayin' brother," Merle said. "I do. And—I know what you mean. Hell—I ain't goin' anywhere. And I might not be worth shit, but…Andrea knew that when she said she'd go look for a ring that fit."
"You didn't let me finish," Daryl offered. Merle made a gesture to make it clear that Daryl had the time and space to say as much as he wanted. "I know you love Andrea, Merle. You're scared of the word marriage—think it turns people into what the hell they ain't never been before, but it don't. You and Andrea are gonna be the same damn people after you say you're married that you are now. Only difference is you sleep good not worryin' about other damn Tom cats pissin' around what's yours, and she don't gotta worry about…"
"Kittens," Merle interrupted with a laugh before Daryl could say the word.
"That weren't the point of my story—at least not the whole point…the most important point," Daryl said. "I get it. You feel like you ain't cut out to be nobody's old man. Feel like you ain't good enough an' you just gonna fuck it up so maybe you ought not to try—not to even risk fuckin' it up." Merle hummed. "But'cha fuck it up if you don't try, Merle. And you lose Andrea. Listen—I know what'cha feelin'…like you ain't good enough. I get it. Felt the same damn way a million times. Fight that shit every day…but I fight it."
Merle laughed to himself. He reached for his cigarette pack, and Daryl let him light his own to keep his hand busy for longer.
"Fuck you know about it?" Merle asked. "Mr. Award-Winning Daddy and shit?"
Daryl laughed to himself. There was no real venom in his brother's voice, though there was a touch of something that must be akin to self-pity.
"I come from the same damn place as you, Merle. And there weren't no damn body teachin' me how to do shit. Hell—I don't know what the hell I'm doin' as a Daddy. I'm wingin' that shit. It's mostly been trial and error. Lettin' Carol teach me. Lettin' Sophia teach me. Doin' some thinkin' about how the hell I wish someone mighta treated my ass when I was too damn small to understand that the world is just full of assholes and their shit."
"But there's always been a difference, Daryl," Merle said. "You get shit right, and I fuck it up. That's what the hell we do."
"It ever occur to you that—I only get shit right because you come through first, fucked up, and I learned from your mistakes? Hell—you made 'em for me as much as you made 'em for yourself. Showed my ass what the hell not to do, so I didn't have to make 'em."
"You done this first," Merle said.
"And now you get to learn from me," Daryl said with a quiet laugh.
"But you ain't never fucked this up…"
"Depends on who the hell you ask," Daryl said. "When Carol was lost? Them days when I was thinkin' that I weren't never gonna find her ass, but I was desperate to find her? Merle—Sophia was all the hell I had left in the whole damn world. That's what I felt like. It was me an' fuckin' her against the world. I didn't know shit, but the one damn thing I did know was that—I loved her more than I could ever even say. More than I could imagine. More than you could believe if I was to tell you how much."
"That's what you supposed to do," Merle said. "If you good at bein' a Daddy."
"It's what you gonna do," Daryl said, feeling the need to remind Merle of that little piece of information. "But—durin' that time? Maggie and Lori had different ideas about the whole damn thing. Wanted to keep Sophia."
"Like—babysit her?"
"Like keep her," Daryl said. "Like—take her away from me. Didn't want me to be her Daddy no more. Figured…just like you said…that Dixons weren't meant for bein' anybody's old man, and Soph was gonna be better off without my ass—especially without Carol around to teach me, or keep an eye on me, or whatever the hell they were thinkin'."
Merle's brow furrowed deeply. Daryl didn't try to put words into his brother's mouth or thoughts into his head.
"Maggie and Lori done that?" He asked after a moment. Daryl nodded his head.
"Had me torn up. I was thinkin'—they were probl'y right. Hell—I don't know what the hell I'm doin', like you said."
"But you ain't let 'em have her."
"The minute you see her, Merle…or him…whatever the hell you gonna have? Not even that—'cause…I mean Carol's just pregnant, and he's just movin', and I ain't seen him but on a screen but…I already know I love him. You know? And you gonna feel the same way, and you gonna know exactly what the hell I know. I may not be the best damn Daddy in the world. And maybe them kids could do a helluva lot better'n my sorry ass. But—it'll be over my dead body you get 'em away from me, and you best believe I'ma do my best to make sure it's your dead body that hits the ground first."
"They ain't had no business tryin' to take her," Merle said. "You're a good Daddy. You're doin' it right. She's…she's a good kid. Growin' up all right to me."
Daryl smiled to himself. He nodded his head.
"She is growin' up all right," Daryl said. "We got Carol back now."
"But even if you didn't…"
"But we do," Daryl said.
"Point is—you ain't fuckin' up," Merle said. "And any damn body that says you are is an asshole that oughta look at they own damn life. You're doin' shit right. Doin' right by your damn kids. That's the best you can do, an'—you're doin a damn fine job of that shit."
It was about the most heartwarming praise that Daryl could honestly hope for from his brother.
"Thanks," Daryl said. "And—my point, Merle, is that…we come from the same damn place. An' you gonna do a damn good job with your kid. And if you get stuck? I'll be there to kick your ass an' get you goin' again."
Merle laughed at that.
"Thanks, brother," he said. Then, looking around like he wasn't sure what to say or do, he started to get to his feet. "Whatta you say we head that way for a bit? See if we can't get somethin' to take back. I woudn't mind carryin' home a couple damn deer steaks to Andrea tonight."
Daryl smiled to himself.
"Carol does love venison," he said, as he got to his feet.