September 22, 2010
Ten days.
That's how long it takes eleven-year-old Duane Jones to finally realize his new best friend is a girl.
The four days since his revelation are filled with a mood shifting between awe toward Sophia's ability to mimic Shane so well she fooled him and disgruntlement at the two adult males' amused looks.
"Think he'll value those observation lessons more now," Morgan remarks to Shane as they butcher the deer Shane and Sophia took down this morning. "But I'm proud he's not really treating her differently now that he knows."
"He's a good kid. Knows the value of friendship."
Morgan hums a sound that seems like agreement as he neatly wraps the rump roast Shane passes him in white butcher paper and labels it.
Next to where he's working, a bloody cooler of all the parts going for sausage is growing full. Shane's curious to see how the supplies they located at a local game processor's home and business will turn out sausage for them. They don't want to waste a scrap of meat nowadays.
That's why the kids are up at the house using the outdoor sink Morgan installed yesterday, cleaning the intestines saved in a bucket during the field dressing. They don't seem especially grossed out as they follow the directions in the book from the processor. Instead, they're chatting happily even as they take turns scraping the intestines they flushed.
They have an audience, too. With the chickens turned loose during the day to roam the property in search of bugs and other snacks, three of the now seven adult hens are watching avidly. The little Polish hens are joined in their viewership by the nanny goat rescued from the same farm as the new chickens, along with the two lambs the goat is raising.
Hell, Shane only knows the damn fuzzballs are lambs and not baby goats because the farm kept records. They look more goat than sheep to him. Where the rest of the goats and sheep the farm raised are, they haven't found yet. A storm put a tree down on a paddock fence and freed most of farm's inhabitants.
"You ever eaten the organ meat before?" Morgan asks, nodding toward the other cooler he brought back that contains the organs he saved.
"Heart, yeah. Most folks won't bother with the liver or kidneys that I've seen, but can't hurt to try. Lungs are for the demon cat. I don't think we're going to run that hungry here for people food."
Morgan laughs, taking the next cut of meat to wrap. "How long til even she starts calling that cat Lucifer, too?"
"Popular opinion of his nature will win out in the end."
Best thing about the goat is they finally found a match for the cat. For some reason, Lucius decided he could stalk one of the lambs. It was unexpected, because the cat's routinely ignored the chickens that should trigger prey instinct.
The sight of the cat being chased in pissing, yowling terror by the normally sweet nanny goat Sophia calls Princess Buttercup is going to be one of Shane's funniest memories until the end of days.
Everyone goes on alert when they hear the sound of a vehicle out on the road. Shane and Morgan both rinse their hands quickly, and the kids disappear so fast it's like they teleported.
Shane reaches for his rifle even as the sound of the engine slows. It's definitely coming here, but he can't blindly trust that it's Rick.
Morgan picks up his own rifle. They can't quite see up the driveway from here, but it also means they can't be seen.
"How about I stay out of sight until it's confirmed friendly?" the other man suggests. "Someone coming here that knows you might shoot first if they see someone they don't know."
Shane agrees. Rick would be the only person who might recognize Morgan, and that's not a guarantee.
He's still cautious as he heads toward the driveway, keeping to cover as much as possible. He doesn't recognize the SUV at the gate, but that doesn't mean anything. He didn't exactly return home in what he left here in.
The driver seems to be studying a paper held up in front of the steering wheel next to a map. Their face is hidden, sitting too far back for Shane to see clearly without stepping fully into view. But if they have a map, he doesn't think it's anyone he knows.
The driver opens the door and steps out. Big, male, face obscured by the shadows thrown by a ballcap and the SUV door. Shane can tell the moment the visitor spots the electric wire on the fence, because he laughs.
The sound triggers a memory, but it's vague and he can't quite grasp it.
But when the man steps closer to the keypad for the gate to press the intercom button, Shane no longer needs to hear the voice to identify their visitor.
"You don't have to buzz the whole damn house down, Merle," he calls out.
Typical for Merle Dixon, the man smirks and presses the button one more time.
"Well, well, well. If it ain't Deputy Dawg, alive and kicking," he drawls.
Shane represses the urge to call the man he still considers a consummate douchebag exactly that. "Guess this means your brother's faith you could survive any damn thing wasn't misplaced."
Daryl's judgement of people's ability to survive is steadily getting reinforced in Shane's mind. He hopes the man is still with Rick.
The big man looks healthy enough, although his missing right hand is replaced with a leather covering of some sort. Shane sees the flash of a blade there as well.
"Where is my little baby brother? Didn't come all the way here to stare at a piggie's face."
"I have no idea. Group got separated over a month ago by a herd overrunning a farm we were staying on. Thought the same as you did that they might end up back here."
"Seems Officer Friendly still ain't grasped logical thinking, you think?"
As much as that seems to be the truth, Shane can't bring himself to agree. The damned goat chooses that moment to wander up, butting at his right hand.
For some reason, her appearance sets Merle off. His gun is drawn and aimed at Shane in a split second. "You don't strike me as the farm boy type. You lying to me about my brother? That pissant dickhead got him killed, didn't he?"
Shane doesn't go for his Glock. He's pretty sure Merle will shoot him if he does. He also knows Morgan's probably sighting the man right now.
But it isn't the other adult who speaks, and Shane nearly pisses himself when he realizes Sophia's voice is coming from outside the fucking fence. She must have accessed the escape tunnel under the fence Morgan convinced him was a good idea.
"Best lower your weapon and stop jumping to stupid conclusions, Mister Dixon. I don't want to, but I will shoot you."
Shane can see the wheels turning as Merle tries to place the voice and whether or not to take it seriously.
"You saying Daryl ain't here, kid?" His gun never waivers.
"I'm saying that. I'm also saying you ain't the only one Rick Grimes left behind to die, so put that gun up. Pretty sure shooting you in the ass won't kill you, but it ain't a trip to Disneyland either."
Something finally clicks for Merle and he lowers the gun, guffawing. "Damn, Mouseling, you grew teeth."
He holsters the gun, turning toward the direction Sophia's speaking from. He even makes a show of raising his hand and stump.
Sophia moves forward, holstering her own gun, but lifting the taser. "Don't figure I gotta explain this to you, do I? Anyone else with you?"
"Woman and her boy. Little fella is barely out of diapers. She patched me up after Atlanta."
Shane isn't exactly sure he likes Merle speaking to Sophia, but the antagonistic stance the man adopted toward Shane disappears entirely as he speaks to the girl. He remembers vaguely, back at the quarry, that the kids never seemed to fear the asshole redneck.
"Guess you'll understand if we ask for proof of that."
The SUV is still running. When Merle makes a motion with his fingers, the rear passenger window rolls down. Whatever Sophia sees makes her smile and waggle her fingers at the car.
He's proud that she inspects the interior as best she can before nodding. Some things he's taught her. Others are either instinct, learned from what accuracies television managed, or a combination of the two.
"He's telling the truth, Shane. Woman and toddler. Even got a carseat for him back there."
The kid's the deciding factor. Even if it's just a visit before they move on with an active search, they need to share information. Maybe let the kid have a safe place to play for a bit.
"Let's bring them inside. Have a conversation without assumptions bringing weapons into the mix."
Sophia doesn't holster the taser as she circles the SUV to the keypad. "Tahoe's not going to drive itself, Mister Dixon."
Merle laughs, the sound carrying across the property. "You sure ain't the mouseling I remember. Damn little spitfire now."
He climbs into the driver's seat even as Sophia enters the code and the gate slides open. Sophia waits on the Tahoe to clear before slipping inside just as the gate closes.
Sophia throws her arms around Shane as soon as she reaches him. For all her bravery displayed just now, he can tell having a gun pointed at him has rocked her.
He hugs her tightly even as Merle steps back out of the truck. The redneck eyes them with a calculated look that tells him the man's actually sober. He hopes it's a good sign and not a temporary reprieve.
As a tall woman with elaborate braids emerges and retrieves a fluffy haired toddler, Shane is definitely surprised. After the violent, racism fueled attack on T-Dog the others described, Merle reappearing with a statuesque black woman is a definite surprise.
"This here is Michonne and Andre. 'Chonne, these two are the original deputy from the quarry camp and one of the stray kids. Sophia."
The toddler is squirming and babbling, reaching for the goat that nearly got Shane shot.
"Shane Walsh, ma'am." He offers a hand and she shifts the boy to her other hip to take it.
"You aren't the man who left Merle handcuffed to a roof, correct?"
From the look in her eyes, he's glad he isn't Rick. "No, that would be my former partner."
"He's real good at stupid shit like that," Sophia grumbles. "We gotta start a support group at the rate he's going."
Shane can't really chide her for it. He and Merle contributed to their situations. She did not.
"Sorry. Sophia's still pissed off about surviving fifteen days alone in the woods after Rick lost her when walkers were chasing them."
Michonne smiles kindly at the girl. "I would be plenty pissed off myself in that case."
"Don't want to startle you folks, but there's four of us here. Morgan? Duane? They're friendlies."
The older man steps into view from the other side of the GMC. His rifle is slung against his back. "I'll take your word for it since the man did put away his gun."
"The baby can play with the goat, ma'am. She won't hurt him," Duane calls down from the deck. He trots down the stairs, unlatching the gate Shane installed to keep the livestock off the deck and out of Sophia's garden.
"Duane? Did you kids shut off the water?" Morgan asks.
The boy squirms. "Maybe?"
But he darts off in a manner that says probably not.
Morgan offers a hand to first Michonne and then Merle. "Morgan Jones. My boy's Duane. We got stalled out here on the way to the Atlanta refugee camp when my wife died."
"Be glad you didn't make it. Camps were a nightmare. Fell to the walkers long before the napalm."
Michonne looks haunted. Shane wonders who she lost.
"So I hear from Shane."
Sophia finally releases Shane with a gentle pat to the wound no longer bandaged under his shirt. "Does Andre want a snack? Something to drink?"
"He would certainly appreciate it," his mother replies.
Sophia opens the gate for the woman and child to go upstairs. "Getting awful hot with the deer only half butchered."
"Hint taken," Morgan replies, amused. "Suppose you come help us while Sophia spoils that baby, Mister Dixon."
Merle stops looking upward and nods. "Good setup here, Walsh. Better than that dollhouse in town."
Seems Merle found Rick's place first. As they go back down to the deer hung near the water's edge, Shane can see Duane's gone back to the task of preparing the intestines for sausage casings.
"How did you find us out here?"
"Phone book."
Shane laughs, startled at the old school method of search. "Makes sense, except I'm not listed. You must've found me in something at Rick's."
"His skinny ass wife's Christmas card list. Figured we came this far on a hunch. Kept following it."
Merle doesn't offer to help as Shane and Morgan return to butchering. Instead he watches quietly for about five minutes.
"You think my brother actually stayed with your partner?"
Shane nods. "It's likely. There at the end, Rick certainly wanted him around more than me."
"He found out you were fucking his wife, then?"
Shane can't stop the flinch those unvarnished words causes. That may explain the truthful reply. "I think he was more pissed that I got her pregnant."
Morgan makes a startled aound, reminding Shane they haven't had the in-depth conversation he knows is necessary.
"Holy shit, boy, you got a talent for understatement there. Surprised the man left you living." Merle looks a little impressed, which makes Shane even more ashamed.
Shane very carefully hands off the meat he's just cut free to Morgan. His hands are shaking and Morgan's sharp eyes catch it.
"He's the reason you were nursing a wound when we first got here, isn't he? You still favor that left side."
"It's why Sophia and I couldn't keep looking for them. I was sick. Couldn't keep her safe."
"So you brought her home to the safest place you knew. Wounded animal back to its den."
Merle reaches out to lift Shane's shirt and he doesn't dodge it. Both men get a good look at the ugly mess the knife, infection, and debridement made of his chest.
"Took pieces of you, too," Merle says softly, almost kindly, before letting the cloth drop.
"I deserved it."
At Merle's scoffing snort, he shakes his head. Shane can't stop the confession once it starts. Words tumble out, baring his soul to one man he's started to call friend and another he fears may understand him too well to hide a damn thing.
He doesn't leave anything out. Aiming the gun at Rick in the woods. Almost forcing himself on Lori at the CDC. Killing Otis. Threatening Dale. His attempts to get Lori to leave. Snapping Randall's filthy, rapist neck. Aiming a gun at his brother in that dark field.
When he finally runs out of words, Morgan looks shocked, but thoughtful. Merle just looks like the confession settles something in his mind.
"Why don't you take a seat, Walsh? We can finish this up." Merle steps past him to retrieve the knife Shane set aside as he started talking.
It's the unexpected kindness in the redneck's voice that makes Shane actually comply, stumbling to the stump Sophia perches on when she's watching but not needed.
Morgan and Merle work in silence for a half hour, finishing up the deer. It isn't until Morgan brings a bottle of water over and cleans Shane's hands that he even remembers his hands are still covered it deer blood. The other man is gentle, almost as if he's tending a child and not a grown man.
"Morgan?" He's half lost his voice in the flood of words earlier.
"Pretty sure you're in shock, Shane. That was a hell of a lot of weight to be carrying. How much does Sophia know?"
"About Otis, Randall, and the field with Rick."
"Two of the worst transgressions, and the one saving grace."
Shane shivers despite the heat. "What?"
"You rid the world of a rapist who delighted in the idea of children as prey. Anyone critical of that will meet my own fists." Morgan offers him the remainder of the water bottle and Shane drinks.
"Girl knows you're a killer and dangerous. Trusts you to keep her safe. Kid like her? She wouldn't still be here if you were the monster you think you are."
Shane nearly gives himself whiplash to look up at Merle. The man shrugs before continuing. "You ever see her run to her daddy to check him over or for comfort?"
"No. Not once."
"You don't grow up in that kind of hell and not develop a radar for people like him. Bet she would have been as ready to get rid of that Randall as you and my brother were, if she'd met him."
"Little that you've done is truly unforgivable, Shane, so long as you acknowledge the parts where you lost sight of the line between right and wrong," Morgan says.
He offers a hand out to help Shane stand. "Let's get this deer put away. Take the afternoon to get to know our newcomers."
What he thought would condemn him instead brought him sympathy in both men's eyes. He doesn't believe he deserves it, but for now, he's going to trust their judgement over his own.
A/N: I debated long and hard over what group would save Merle, since I didn't want the Governor involved (not sure Woodbury will exist in this AU). Considered Grady and the Vatos both seriously.
In the end, a Michonne who saves Andre probably wouldn't be wandering far and wide around the Georgia countryside. I liked the poetic justice of him owing his life to Michonne in this. ;)
And dear lord, poor Sophia needed at least one female around, right?
As for Andrea's fate without her savior, we shall see... Eventually.