A/N: This isn't the big confrontation chapter with the Governor (insert booooo's here), BUT it will be the chapter following this one. Trust me, you don't want to skip this one. By the end of the chapter, you'll either hate me or love me!

"Sitting alone here in my bed
I'm waiting for an answer I don't know that I'll get
I cannot stand to look in the mirror, I'm failing
I'm telling you these times are hard
But they will pass"

(These Time by SafetySuit)

Red Light, Green Light

"You're leaving."

It's not a question, it's not an accusation. Her tone isn't filled with blame or pain or anger. Her voice doesn't crack or shoot up three octaves. It's a simple statement, a fact that hit Michonne the second they stepped outside. It's why he chose her instead of Daryl, why Rick gave her the rifle. Because he knew, because Merle told him, because she would be on her own out here once Merle did what he did best. She mentally curses Rick for being okay with this, for using Merle to set traps and then willingly cutting him loose. Daryl couldn't know or he'd be tagging along after his older brother to keep an eye on him. To keep him under the same roof.

Merle sighs heavily. "The offer still stands—"

"I'm not going anywhere," Michonne says firmly. She tries to keep the anger from seeping into her words, tries to keep her voice low. "What about Daryl? You're going to walk away, just like that? After everything you've done to help us?"

Merle shifts uncomfortably before her, his shoulders rolling forward once as if trying to brush the weight off his back. "I got to," he mumbles down at his feet.

"Oh, I get it," she starts furiously, rage boiling up from her gut hot and fast. "You're going after him because of Daryl. So screw the rest of us, right? Forget that maybe we need you here to fight and kick the Governor's ass when the time comes. You more than anyone should want to kill him. Maybe even more than me. And you'd rather take your chances out there alone than stay with the people who'll watch your back?"

His jaw clenches. "I fixed what I had to. My time is done here."

"He'll come after you."

"So you stop him."

"And if I don't?"

"Then Rick does."

"And when he can't?"

Merle moves so suddenly she isn't prepared, and she's forced back into the fence, his rifle discarded, forgotten on the ground, Rick's still draped over her shoulder. He gets in her face, anger and pain and seriousness painted in vibrant colors over his entire being for her to see. He's not playing around this time or patching things up. This time, he means business. "It won't matter," he nearly growls. "The Governor will be dead. I'll have slit his throat, torn out his heart and fed it to the walkers. I'll have ended this so no more blood is spilled but that bastard's. My baby brother will see that, and he'll come lookin' for me, but I'll be gone. It'll be over. I told him that. He knows it's comin'. So it won't matter."

"He's gonna kill himself trying to find you," she argues. "So it does. You want his blood on your hands?"

"Daryl can survive on his own," Merle hastily assures her with a twisted smile, not budging an inch, "but he won't find me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him to," he admits exasperatedly. "He's got a good thing here, he doesn't need me to go fuck it up, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear, huh? Huh? Answer me!"

Michonne feels her anger slipping as his mounts. A few groaning walkers claw at the fence by the main gate blindly, attracted by their sharp tones. The rattling sound seems disjointed, a memory bleeding into the present, annoying background noise. Half of Merle's face is cast in darkness, the other illuminated by the light of the full moon. He doesn't appear to notice them. She wonders, hopes the Governor and his men aren't nearby, lurking somewhere just beyond the trees. "No," she grinds out. His eyes search hers for a long moment for answers she's not sure he'll find. Merle must get lost in them because he finally releases a frustrated breath and backs away to retrieve the assault rifle and carry on his merry way, leave her behind. A booted foot prevents him from picking up the weapon. "No one asked you to do this, Merle. You've earned your place here. No one's asking you to go."

He chuckles. "You don't get it, do you? Rick gave me the green light, and now I gotta follow through."

"Let somebody else take him down."

"There is nobody else."

She throws up her hands. "There's me."

Merle smiles, stands. "Now, that's funny. You really think I'd let you just up and walk outta here? Go after the Governor? Slit his throat with your sword, right?" He laughs again. "You're hilarious, girl."

They're supposed to be keeping watch, scoping out the perimeter for anything other than walkers, but she can't find it in her to care. Merle's right about the Governor, but the one-eyed man is also unpredictable when he's desperate. He could charge out of the trees at any time, roll through in a armored truck, blow the place sky high. But she knows he won't. Anger flares white hot inside her again when she hears Merle laugh, and so she does the most unpredictable thing she can think of to get his attention.

She punches him.

He stumbles back in shock, palm pressed to his jaw. Merle stares incredulously at her. "What—?"

She shoves him back against the fence, blocks him in, gets in his face. "I saved your ass when I didn't have to. You owe me. So I'm asking you not to go."

"Why don't you just tell me, Michonne?" he shoots back wittily.

She pauses, surprised he actually used her name. "Because you're right," she eventually answers. "I like you."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything, and she's left standing there, feeling like a little kid with a crush. Because, yeah, she likes his company, but she doesn't love him. Most of the time, she can't even stand to be in the same room with him. She worries the meaning of her words will be misinterpreted, that Merle won't understand what she's really trying to say. He deserves to have a choice. To live or to die. He has to make that call, him and him alone, but he should know he can.

His foot comes to land on the rifle, sending it skittering to the side, his eyes never leaving hers, even as he lifts Rick's gun from her shoulder and tosses that aside too. "You wouldn't have listened if I'd told you," she adds.

Merle's smug smile returns. "No."

And he closes the gap between them.