AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think.
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"Now why do I bet you're sittin' out here 'cause you're a son of a bitch?" Daryl asked, walking up to where his brother was holding down one of the park benches placed outside of their apartment building. Merle didn't even look at him. "She kick you out?" Daryl asked, sitting down next to Merle and lighting a cigarette.
"She can't kick me outta my own damn place," Merle said. "If anybody's gonna put anybody's ass out, it'll be me puttin' her fuckin' ass out."
Daryl laughed to himself. He could practically hear his brother bristling.
"You gonna do that, Merle? Put the woman you love an' your kid that she's carryin' out in the street?" Daryl asked. "That'd be low even for an asshole like you."
"I guess she ain't wasted time in tellin' nobody," Merle grumbled.
"She didn't tell me," Daryl said. "Far as I know—she ain't told nobody but you. Went to the doctor 'cause Lori tried to tear the side of her face off with her fingernails. Doctor checked her over an' found out she was hidin' a kid in her gut. Woulda kept it a secret, but the lil' secretary there is hardly more'n a kid herself an' she was runnin' her mouth about it. She told Carol an' me when we went to get a check on our own kid."
Merle hummed and stared at the half-dead grass between his feet.
"Your kid OK?" He asked.
Daryl smiled to himself.
"Lookin' good," he said. "Strong. Carol's strong, too. Healthy. We got us a lil' boy comin'. Doctor didn't say it, but Carol already knows he'll be here in a few months."
Merle looked at him and smiled slightly.
"Boy, huh?"
"Yeah," Daryl said.
"How they know?"
"Seen him," Daryl said. "Seen his business. She's got one of them machines that lets her see it all. Everything. He was just showin' that shit off, rollin' around big as you please in Carol's belly."
"Well—congratulations," Merle said. "I know you happy as shit."
"I am," Daryl confirmed.
"A boy…" Merle mused.
"I'da been happy with a girl, too," Daryl said. "Hell—we figure we'll try for a girl next. You know? See what we get."
"Next time?" Merle asked with a laugh.
"Doc says Carol's healthy," Daryl said. "Said, right off, that she could have a couple more, even. We might do that. Just have a couple more once this one's here."
"You mean that? Like—four kids?"
"Why not?" Daryl asked. "If Carol wants it? I sure won't be sorry to see it. We'll get us a bigger place, though. Maybe one of them houses when they expand the fences. I'll help keep it up and make it every damn thing she could want it to be. Kids could all have their own rooms. We could find a dog or two, even."
"Damn, brother," Merle said, clearly amused. "When that woman got her hooks in you, she domesticated your ass all the damn way."
Daryl smiled and nodded.
"And it's the best fuckin' thing that's ever happened to me, Merle. In my whole damn, sorry ass, life, there ain't been shit that's ever happened to me that's been better than Carol and every single thing she's brought into my life."
"That what you come out here to tell me?"
"That what you need to hear?"
"Don't need you pissin' on my foot, Daryl. Tellin' me it's raining."
Daryl laughed to himself and relaxed back against the bench.
"That's the best part of it, Merle. I ain't bullshittin' you to try to make you do something. I'm telling you the truth. I'm married to Carol, Merle. I married her. For real. Hershel married us. We said forever. Do you know how damn good that feels, brother? No—I can tell you that you don't. But to taste forever on your fuckin' tongue? Know that this person likes you enough that they want to spend that much time with you—ain't goin' nowhere?"
"People say that shit and they don't mean it," Merle said.
"Sometimes they do."
"Sometimes you don't want their asses that long."
"Then that ain't the right one, Merle. That how you feel about Andrea? You don't want to deal with her or somethin'? You wish she was outta your hair? You really wanna be done with her?"
Merle stared at him, hard, and Daryl felt like he had his answer. He felt like he had his answer before he'd even sat down. Merle was scared shitless of the whole situation. He was scared of not getting what he wanted. He was scared of getting what he wanted, too, and not knowing what to do with it. He was just plain scared.
And Daryl had promised Carol that he would talk to him, for all the good that might do anyone.
Of course, all Daryl really had to do was talk about his family, and he liked talking about his family, so that didn't bother him too much.
"I said forever with the woman I love, Merle," Daryl said. "And now we do everything together. I mean—we argue about shit, sometimes. You're always gonna do that if you share the same space with someone for a long time, but I don't mind arguin' with her because I know we're gonna make up. I know the little shit don't really matter. We decide everything together. We go together. Here or at the prison—or wherever the hell we might end up. She made me a Daddy. Gave me Sophia. Changed my whole fuckin' life, Merle."
"I know you don't wanna hear it, but…she had that pup when we met her."
"Don't matter," Daryl said. "Ed didn't want her. Didn't love her. He made her, but—he weren't worth his salt as a Daddy. That what you want 'em to say about you, Merle? When Andrea brings your kid into this world and you ain't done nothin' but put 'em both out to pretend they don't exist? And for what, Merle?"
Merle stared straight ahead. Daryl watched the space in front of them—the road, but it was empty, at the moment, because nobody was coming or going out in front of the apartment building—to see if anything might levitate or move. Merle's concentration seemed to be the kind that would allow him to practice some kind of before-unknown telekinetic ability.
"You can throw it in my face all you want that Ed was the one that laid down with Carol and made Sophia," Daryl said. "You ain't wrong. And that's the only thing that I'll ever be grateful for when it comes to Ed Peletier. In my opinion, it's the only positive contribution his sorry ass ever made to this world. I didn't make Sophia, but I helped her grow into what she is. I've been there to hold her, and love her. To—worry about her, and feed her, and walk the floor with her when she can't sleep. I been the one to watch her grow and celebrate every little thing from first words, to gettin' teeth, to doin' a damn dance to show her happy I am when she tells me she's gotta shit an' let's me get her to the potty 'fore she shits on herself." He laughed to himself. "I didn't make her—not from scratch. But I helped her grow, Merle. But—you can't throw nothin' in my face when it comes that lil' boy Carol's carryin' right now. I made that boy from scratch. I laid down with Carol. I put that baby in her belly. And I've been with her every single step of the way. And it hasn't changed my opinion one damn bit. Either way? I'm as excited as I ever was to see what comes next. And I'm damn near outta my mind to think that, one of these days? He's gonna be here, all the way grown, and in this world, and I'm gonna get to—walk the damn floors with him, just like I've done with Sophia, hopin' he can find it in him to sleep a little damn bit."
Merle set his jaw. He lit a cigarette. Daryl saw that his brother's fingers trembled, and he knew it was more than simply struggling with the lighter. Daryl didn't draw attention to his fingers, and he didn't offer to help him with the lighter.
"You said it yourself," Merle offered. "I'm a son of a bitch. Always have been. Look at who the hell I am, Daryl. Who the hell I been. What the hell I done. I ain't no kind of old man."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"Yeah," he said. "I do know who you are, Merle. I know what kind of an asshole you can be. I know what the hell you're capable of—good and bad. Hell—so does Andrea, and she still laid down and made that baby with you, didn't she?"
"If it's mine," Merle said.
"You think it ain't?" Daryl asked. He knew the answer. He knew it was a knee-jerk response from Merle. It was just something to say to try to make himself feel better than he felt right now. "Andrea knows you, Merle, and in spite of that she let you knock her ass up. I bet you she'd marry you, too, if you wanted to go about makin' an honest ass woman out of her. And the damnedest thing about babies is they don't know shit, Merle. Not like the shit that people think matters. Babies only know like—they know like their basic needs. And they know when they don't like somethin'. When it don't feel right."
"And that's what the hell it's gonna know," Merle mused. "That it don't feel right 'cause I ain't made to be nobody's old man."
Daryl laughed to himself.
"You hold 'em right," he offered, "and you…hold 'em close to you. Make 'em feel safe. Tell 'em you gonna keep 'em safe, and you make 'em believe it because you know, in your heart, that somebody's gonna have to cut your throat out to stop you from keepin' good on that promise. You do that and they're gonna know they can trust you. Gonna love you because you love them. They don't know about the rest. Don't care about the shit that everyone else cares about. They're real simple. Easy. They just know about feelings and intentions—the important shit."
"You were always sweet, Daryl. Mama's sweet one. She always said it, herself. I don't know how the hell to be a husband to Andrea. I don't know how to be a Daddy. Not like you."
"You think I got some kinda handbook on it?" Daryl asked with a laugh.
"No, but you're good at it."
"I love my wife," Daryl said. "And she loves me back. So, I make decisions with her based on what's gonna make both of us happy. What's gonna be good for our life. For everything we have and want. I love my kids—even though one of 'em ain't much bigger'n like a baseball or somethin'. I make decisions for them that's based on what's gonna make their lives good, Merle. What's gonna make 'em happy. Hell—sometimes I think about our Mama. Our old man. I think what the hell do I wish they'da done. And I do that. If you ask Carol, she'll probably tell you I fuck up every day that I wake up. But my intentions are good and, maybe, that's all that matters. I love my family. I love my life."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Merle said. "None of it. I never—let somebody stick around that long. I never—spent time with kids."
"You taught me how to do a lot of shit in my life, Merle. Most everything I ever learned was from you. What if—you let me help you learn how to do this?"
Merle looked at him like he was really considering his words. The heavy crease between his brows lightened a little. He held up his cuffed arm.
"What if I can't even hold my kid decent?" He asked.
Daryl's stomach twisted. He knew that Merle hated that he'd lost his hand. Anyone would. He sometimes felt sorry for himself over it. He felt angry toward Rick. Maybe, today, he felt sorry because, if he chose to be a Daddy, he didn't have that hand to offer his family when they might just need it.
"Can you hold Andrea decent with it?" Daryl asked.
"We get by," Merle said. "Enough to put a kid in her belly, right?"
"Then you'll get by with this, too," Daryl said. "And—I'm bettin' that, if you offer her that other good hand you got in marriage? She'll help you figure out all the rest so long as you—keep holdin' her as decent as you can."
"I've fucked up everything I've ever done in my life."
"You only fuck this up if you decide to turn your back on 'em both. Because—like it or not? Your kid's already there, Merle. You only fuck it up if you don't try."
Merle hung his head and Daryl's chest ached because he understood that his brother's concerns were real, and they were heavy, and, just maybe, Merle was tired of carrying them. Daryl reached a hand over and patted Merle's back.
"You only fuck this up if you want to, brother," Daryl said. "If you willin' to try at all? You gonna do alright. What you already said—or done—to Andrea?"
Merle sighed and looked at Daryl. He laughed to himself, nervously.
"Hell, brother, I didn't hit her, if that's what you're askin'. She told me—she was all swole faced and wet eyes. She looked so pathetic and sad—snot an' mess, and bruises and shit where she fought with that skinny bitch. She told me she was pregnant. That the baby was mine. And I just—left."
"You didn't say nothin'?"
"Not a damn word," Merle said. "See, brother? I can fuck it up and I don't even gotta open my sorry ass mouth."
Daryl sighed.
"Maybe it weren't the best thing you coulda done, Merle, but it weren't the worst, neither. Everything ain't lost. Come on."
"Where we goin'?" Merle asked.
"You want this or you don't? I'll help you, as much as you need, but you gotta decide now."
Daryl stood up. Merle nodded at him. He could talk about Andrea looking all sad and pathetic, but he looked just about as low as body could get before he had to start digging.
"Then come on, it's time for you to start practicin' your grovelin' and your sweet talkin' brother. We'll ask Carol what she thinks is the best damn approach, but I wouldn't be surprised if she said you better be glad it was your arm you lost, because you best start practicin' walkin' on your knees."