A/N: Thanks for all the favorites, follows, reviews, and alerts! I was surprised to see a good mix of these in my inbox after posting the last chapter. I'm having waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much fun writing this for you guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely related to this show, but I can dream... right?

"I wear my heart upon my sleeve, like a big deal" — (Feel So Close by Calvin Harris)

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

Things were not going according to plan.

Michonne throws open the door, scanning the prison yard for Merle. She should kill him for getting her into this mess. For forcing her to lie to Rick to keep his ass out of the crossfire. He may have lied by weaving in some form of truth, but did he really expect her to just take whatever he dished out? He'd already gotten away with trying to hand her over to the Governor, at least as far as she could tell from talking to Rick. The guilt had begun to gnaw at what was left of his sanity, and if it continued to decay, Rick would be unfit to lead them. And the Governor would waltz in and take over.

And kill them all.

So whether anyone liked it or not—including herself—Merle would be hanging around the prison to help them preserve it. Michonne hadn't predicted his return to go so smoothly, but Daryl's curiosity would surely cause a hiccup in the brothers' weakened relationship. Because he wanted to know what really happened. Because he knew his brother enough to see through Merle's façade.

Sure enough, Michonne spots the Dixon brothers as she descends the concrete steps leading from C Block, talking low and serious by the main gate that divides the living from the dead, the group from the walkers. They continue to argue back and forth until Merle finally loses it and takes his anger out on a walker by shoving his bayonet arm through the gate, dark, sticky blood coating the blade when he pulls it back, the zombified corpse hitting the ground with a wet thud. Michonne freezes, immobilized by the words that begin to flow from him like a waterfall of truth.

"Don't you get it? I did this for you," Merle nearly yells, waving his hand to emphasize the prison. "All of it. I would've taken her to the Governor, I would've given my left hand, risked my life to kill him myself. I would've done a thousand other things to keep you alive because you're my baby brother." He spreads his arms wide. "I'm tired of being the bad guy here, man. Takin' out the trash, doin' the dirty work. If you want to stay here, that's fine, I get it. I'll stay and try to kill that bastard when he comes, but when it's all over, I'm gone."

Daryl slowly processes that, frowns. "Why? I never asked—"

"Nobody did. But I'd rather see me dead than you."

Michonne thinks that's the closest he'll probably ever get to telling Daryl he cares about him.

Daryl nods. "All right," he says. "I'll talk it over with Rick, see what we can do." He starts to turn away, but stops to add what sounds like, "Thanks, by the way."

"Don't thank me," Merle insists with a smile. "You might regret it later." And his gaze shifts directly to Michonne.

Cursing silently to herself, she takes the opportunity to shut the door behind her loud enough that Daryl turns at the sound, and taking one last look back at his brother, Daryl takes the stairs, passing Michonne with the crossbow slung over his shoulder. He gives her a small smile, and she returns it with a ghost of one. It's finally his turn to talk to Rick. Michonne wonders as he disappears inside if Rick will be stable enough to survive that talk.

Merle meets her at the end of the stairs. "A little birdie told me you wanted to chat with your ol' pal Merle. That right?"

His smugness really pisses her off sometimes. "What did you tell Rick?"

"The truth," he replies, blocking her path so that she has nowhere to go but back up the stairs. Merle puts a foot on the first step and slowly starts to climb, Michonne matching each of his steps with one of her own, backing up as he advances. "I figured, hey, we'll probably all be dead come tomorrow, so why not? Knew he'd believe me over you, anyhow." Michonne backs into the fence surrounding the steps, cornered by Merle. His bayonet comes to rest on the chain-link fence, right arm trapping her effectively as he leans forward slightly, light eyes boring into her dark ones. "Seems like I'm still the bad guy around here, don't it? Even after I let you go and let you drag me back to this hellhole."

Michonne swallows. "You didn't have to come back. You could've gone off on your own."

Merle shakes his head, a sad smile forming on his face. "I ain't goin' anywhere without my brother."

"Imagine that."

Merle cocks an eyebrow. "I never told you I was sorry, did I?"

"Kinda." She tries to ignore the warm breath that hits the side of her face and throat, tries to move as far from him as possible, but Merle moves when she does, reading the movements on her face a second before she makes them.

"Well," he says, shrugging, "I am."

Michonne's jaw clenches so tight she thinks her teeth might break.

"You know what else?" Merle continues, ignoring her glare. "I got to thinkin' and realized something. You coulda killed me anytime out there, left me to the biters. But you didn't. And that can only mean one thing, girl."

He doesn't go on, deliberately pausing so she can interject with an irritable, "What?"

Merle smiles as wide as she's ever seen, leaning even closer, his left and only hand latching onto the chain-link fence on her other side, officially and completely boxing her in. Any attempt at escape would be futile. Michonne turns her head away slightly, debating her next move.

"You like me."