Author's note: first few chapters are really short; later ones will be longer. Yes, in possibly a world first, this story is Marol.
Guess I should mention: the threat from Woodbury has evaporated (overrun with walkers?), Andrea and Merle are at the prison, and Tyreese's crew and Michonne, aren't. Now that we've got that sorted…
Hope you enjoy…
Once sown, those seeds quickly took root. Lying in her bunk that night, Carol reviewed the list of Merle's coping mechanisms in her mind. Booze – not much they could do about that; what little alcohol they had was usually either shared out between them straight away or saved for special occasions, and there'd barely be enough for Merle anyway. He was a man of big appetites.
Drugs – no hope there. Moral and legal considerations had long since fallen by the wayside, but from a practical standpoint any drugs they came across went straight to Hershel for medicinal purposes. Even recreational drugs could come in handy: weed helped stop puking, and there was nothing like heroin when it came to dealing with pain.
Speed. Carol assumed Daryl wasn't referring to the drug, since he'd mentioned speed as a whole separate category. Her thoughts went to Merle's Bonneville, which Daryl had maintained as best he could. She'd thought his dedication to keeping the bike in good trim was not just a common-sense consideration, but a touchstone of his hopes that he would see Merle again. There'd be hell to pay if the bike wasn't lookin' good. Despite Daryl's best efforts, the bike was a lot shinier now that Merle was back in charge of it. That was the machine of a man who did indeed feel the need for speed. But she didn't see how he could ride it with only one hand, and besides they didn't have gas to spare for goofing off. She frowned to herself. Maybe she'd suggest to Rick that next supply run, Merle and Daryl went along together on the bike. They could open it up, out on the open road and scream into the breeze.
Fighting. Between Rick and Daryl, it seemed they had this one covered. Rick had Merle on walker patrol twice as much anyone else and he took to it with gusto, clearing the fenceline daily and keeping up a solid stream of invective against the walkers as he did so. Any excess energy mostly appeared to be cleaned out by him scrapping with Daryl out in the woods every few days. She wondered if Daryl deliberately provoked him into it to clear the air or whether it just came about naturally in what passed for conversation between the brothers; they were both hotheads.
Fucking. Maybe that was something she could help with.
To be continued.