"Stupid redneck," Marcine muttered, rolling up his sleeping bag before kicking it.
She'd spent the better half of her morning organizing the tent she was unfortunately sharing with a certain, frustrating prick with legs. She knew boys were messy, but men were sloppy. She always ended up tripping over something when she woke up - the sleeping bag usually the culprit. She adjusted her tank top and breathed in deeply, listening the buzz of cicadas in the trees, thanks to the end of summer heat. She pushed her hair back from her face and stepped out of the tent, looking up at the gathering clouds.
"Looks like ya got herself a regular lil housekeeper, Darylina," Merle snickered, nudging a can of beans over the makeshift grill placed over their fire.
Daryl grunted to her right, working the tip of his knife into the tender skin and fur of one of his squirrels hung up. He cast a glance back at her and grunted again; Marcine wrinkled her nose as he ripped the skin from the rodent and dropped it at his feet. He went to work on the squirrels little tummy and Marcine rubbed her own, looking down at that tempting can of beans.
"Gonna toss som'a that on here," Merle grunted, gesturing to Daryl and the fire.
Before Marcine could look up, she was spooked by Daryl tossing three small strips of meat on the grill. She watched him sheath his knife and he grabbed his crossbow; the look he gave Marcine before disappearing into the woods made her tense up and chill.
It was the first time in a week that he has left her and Merle alone. Usually he was there or not far, watching her and daring him, it made one side of her wonder what would happen should she turn brother on brother. Would it happen? Would they agree to be rid of her completely? She'd be lost, alone and vulnerable.
Marcine groaned and pulled her knees up, tucking her head between them. Her head was spinning and she couldn't stand it, couldn't handle this much. Was this her breakdown? No, she had that a long time ago. Maybe, she didn't remember much these days, supposed it was that intense denial seeded in her from her mother and her sister, watching them, watching her sister live in such denial of her mother. It must have been contagious.
"Aw, sugar tits," she tensed at Merle's voice. "Why ya seem so blue?"
Marcine peered over at him, lowering her legs to wiggle just a little further from him. "Leave me alone, Merle," she griped, watching the squirrel meat shrink and darken.
He chuckled, unfazed by her attitude. "Don' gimme that," he flipped the meat. "I don't bite."
Well, that was both true and false. Either way, Marcine ignored him. She didn't want to ruin herself with Daryl by indulging Merle in her attention. To be honest, she didn't want to talk to Merle, not even from the beginning. He scared her, from his attitude to his physical appearance, Merle was an intimidating figure even in the most polite scenario.
"Hey, Dixon!"
Both Marcine and Merle looked up, Marcine curious and Merle agitated. Shane was approaching, flanked by T - Dog and Andrea, who looked equally as annoyed as Merle. They stopped a few feet away, Andrea eyeing Marcine in disapproval.
She'd rip her fucking eyes out.
Marcine snorted and took Merle's fork, plucking up a piece of squirrel meat.
"Whatcha need, deputy," Merle crooned.
"Need another man on a run into the city, you in," Shane looked like he would rather ask a Walker.
Merle didn't say anything for a moment and Marcine knew he was doing it to irk the deputy. He stirred the can of beans for a moment then shrugged, looking up at Shane with a blank expression, pupils dilated.
"Why not," he leered. "So long as sugar tits there tags along."
Andrea's hands clenched into fists rhythmically at her sides. "I oughta -"
"Enough," Shane barked, Merle snickered and took a grossly exaggerated bite of hot beans. "Don't cause shit, Merle."
Marcine snorted as they turned and left, but she tucked her head away between her knees when Merle tried to spark a conversation over their mutual disgust over Shane Walsh. She wouldn't talk to him, didn't feel like it and he had to know it. But Merle was a trouble seeker and she supposed either he liked fucking with her, Daryl or he just liked to screw with them both.
"Ah, c'mon girly," Merle leaned towards her.
Before he could speak again, she jumped to her feet, turned on her heel, and stalked off towards the quarry.
Why couldn't he just leave her alone?
She smiled, thankful to find there was not a single soul about. The water rippled gently with a breeze and she inhaled it, smelling air free of pollution and other things; the ups and downs of an apocalypse, she supposed. Marcine sighed and approached the edge of the water, toeing off her boots and then shrugging out of her pants, her shirt. In just her smalls, she dove into the water, enjoying the cool water wrapping around her arms and legs, her torso.
Thinking.
Marcine hated when she had time to think. Alone did that to her, but she liked being alone; it was a fucking struggle.
She inhaled air greedily as she broke through the surface. "I hate the apocalypse," she murmured.
She walked back into camp around sundown, pruned up and out of breath from doing laps. She opted for no jeans on the walk up and her underwear were boy shorts so it didn't really matter. She shook her hair out as she approached her and Daryl's tent, jeans draped over her arm, and noticed Merle was absent.
She furrowed her brow and peeked into his tent, but he was gone still. She stood straight and looked around, had they already left for the city? No, Andrea was sitting with her sister at their camp fire. Marcine pursed her lips and shook her head, ducking into her and Daryl's tent.
"Well, at least someone is here."
Daryl looked up from the extensive cleaning of his crossbow and made to snort but no noise came out. She rolled her eyes and scuttled into the corner of the tent, bending down to find a towel in her backpack.
She steeled when she felt hands wrap around her waist. It was her first encounter with Merle all over again, but this time Marcine went to punch him. But it was Daryl and she sagged in his hands, her cheeks alight like an open flame.
He pulled her closer and she held her hands close to her chest. "What uh...what're you doin?"
He didn't say anything, he just kissed her. She squeaked and pressed her hands against his chest for a moment then gave in, going slack in his arms. She could call it tender, if it weren't for the way he nipped at her bottom lip. She hesitantly opened her mouth to him and he dove in, making her feel a little dirty. Her hands glided up his arms, she loved his arms. She lived the way they looked and now, felt; muscles jumped beneath the surface of tanned and freckled skin.
"Whoa ho ho, finally. Darylina gettin' some."
Marcine and Daryl jumped apart, but he kept his hands on her, frustratingly tight. Merle was standing in the tent now, leant back and panting; there was blood on his shirt and scratches on his forearm. Marcine prickled, thinking him infected, but he just grinned and Daryl groaned.
"We gotta do this now," he griped, letting go of Marcine to grab his pistol and stick it in the back of his jeans.
Merle's squirrely eyes flickered between the two of them, resting on Daryl. "Think she can be trusted, lil brother?"
Then both eyes were on her, intense and primal. She was instantly afraid, but now she was curious. Because Daryl looked as afraid as she did a moment ago and he was close to throwing a fit.
"I can be trusted," she blurted out. "I...I can be trusted."
Daryl sighed, looking a little disappointed but then he shrugged and grabbed his crossbow. "Fine," he grabbed her arm as Merle slipped out of the tent. "But you say one thing, and you'll regret it."
Her warning to get out now.
"I'm up for anything," she promised.
He held her there for a moment, finally letting her go after she counted to seventy five. "You may think that now, but ya don' know what yet gonna see."
God, I hate how this ends, but its another filler. Action starts next chapter and we get into the first season. Please review!
