MollyMayhem84 - Thank you! It's lovely to have such a short, but sweet review! ^_^
rebecca taylor - ^_^!
skittletitz - I seriously need to write a scene in where they do that...
HGRHfan35 - I love his grey scruff patch too...to be honest, greying men are kind of sexy to me.
Brazen Hussy - Hey, we all have our opinions, my friend! ^_^ I'm not going to hound anyone for the characters they like and dislike.
JackAndHoney - I know! How dare I not class this story up with some hardcore smut! ^_^ TBH, what I find more important to any piece that involves sex is the afterglow as it gives one a chance to gather and collect their thoughts after such an emotional tide. But hey, some people are sex minded people and some are fluff minded. Thanks for the review!
peonies01 - Aw, thank you so much for your appreciation. I don't think people realize how hard it is to put out chapters as regularly as I have been doing. I appreciate your kindness, I really do. (And I can't speak for other fanfic writers, but for me I really, honestly appreciate the reviewers like you).
Supfan - Thank you! I'm glad it pleased you! ^_^
Axelrocks - Mah, you're too kind as always! May good things come your way, my friend!
Surplus Imagination - Left out kissing parts? Gah! Damn me for skipping sex! How dare I?! ^_^ Thanks for the review!
spygrrl99 - Daryl's a classic provider in the most ancient sense. He protects, he feeds, and he's always on the lookout for danger around those he loves. I love the idea of him trying to make Carol happy in anyway he can. He's just too adorable sometimes...
GG - Thank you...I really appreciate your reviews, you never have anything negative to say, you're just such a kind person. Thanks for always being you!
Lilone1776 - I think you're on the same brainwave as me. It was my entire reason for not writing heavily detailed sex (other than the fact I'm horrible at smut), I honestly think their sex should be private even to us...it makes their relationship sweeter to me. Thanks for your review, it made me feel better about my decision not to attempt to write smut for them, to give them their privacy. I appreciate every review you've ever given me. ^_^
Well, what can I say? You're all beautiful people and this is a chapter full of Merle being a troublemaker...so...enjoy! It's admittedly a lighter chapter...more fun than anything.
Chapter Forty-Two: Haria
**Merle**
Sitting on the front steps of the church holding a book he found tucked behind the counter in the lumberyard building to his nose, he read.
Or he tried to read, at least.
The day he realized he needed reading glasses was the day after the world went to hell and he couldn't find a good pair for love nor money.
"The bear, huh?"
Glancing up at the priest who was wandering by, Merle scoffed. "That was Tolstoy, this is Dostoevsky."
"What was his nickname then?"
"Fucked if I know. Ruski who wrote long assed books?" Closing the book, Merle eyed the priest. "What's up, padre?"
"Heading for a good long sleep, maybe do some reflecting in the church."
"Reflecting or genuflecting?"
Easing onto the steps at his side, Father O'Rourke eyed Merle quietly. "You're a smart man, Merle."
"Are you asking or telling?" Easing back on the steps, Merle stuck his legs out and grinned.
"I'm telling."
"Not so smart, just read a lot. Nothing else to fucking do and books are free…well anything's free these days, I guess, if you got a big enough gun and the balls to back it."
"Let me ask you something, then."
"If you have to."
"Why don't you get along with people? You're smart enough to know you piss them off, why do it?"
"What? Glenn and Michonne? Fuck 'em."
"Rick, Maggie, your brother…"
"Fuck 'em too."
"Why?"
"Because I hate Asians and blacks…Brits, Serbians, insurance brokers, bankers, lawyers, Croatians, Canadians, most Samoans, Hawaiians, Mexicans, the French, the Spanish, cops, democrats, Alaskans, American Indians, East Indians, the Welsh, actors, Koala bears, Cubans, Peruvians, Australians, the Scottish, the Northern Irish, Klingons, women, hippies, NRA nutcases, the Swedish, the Dutch, certain tribes in South America, the gays, men and ninety-eight percent of old people."
"How do you feel about priests?"
"Fuck 'em too. And double fuck with hot pokers the ones who touch kids."
"You ever read the bible, Merle?"
"Not like you do, I'm sure."
"Leviticus 19:17. Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart: thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbour, and not suffer sin upon him."
"Deuteronomy 16:22, God hates too, padre."
"God hating pillars is a far cry from hating his brothers."
"Deuteronomy 9:28, then. Lest the land whence thou broughtest us out say, Because the Lord was not able to bring them into the land which he promised them, and because he hated them, he hath brought them out to slay them in the wilderness."
"We can sit out here all day trading bible verses, if you want, Merle, or we could get down to the point of this conversation. Why do you pick fights with everyone?"
"Boredom? It's fun? I'm an asshole? Pick any or all."
"Antisocial disorder."
"Could be. The army would have diagnosed it, but…could have developed out of some long repressed childhood memories, I suppose."
"You were in the army?"
"Long time ago. Fuck the army too."
"You are certainly painting a broad and complex picture of yourself," the priest said.
Eyeing the man beside him, Merle scowled a little. "You ain't one of them boy touching priests, are you, padre?"
"Trying to pick a fight, Merle?"
"Bored." Sniffing, Merle pushed to his feet and dropped the book into Father O'Rourke's lap. "Go on and read it, padre. I can't see a fucking word anymore…getting old and useless…"
..-~-..
..-~-..
He was sniffing around Sister Joan as they stood on the wall later that day, eyeing the blonde nun who was perhaps not as attractive as some of his more infamous conquests, but he wasn't a spring chicken, so there was no room to complain.
Besides her slightly bucked teeth were growing on him and those dimples of hers were kind of adorable.
"See the little man over there?" He motioned to where Carl stood on the wall across the lawns from them, watching inwards while Annie and her dog played about on a small stool she had set up with some of the nuns' old dishware. "He's been watching that girl since he got here."
"He's very mature for his age," she replied. "I think it's sweet."
"You're a nun, everything is supposed to be sinful to you," Merle stated.
Chuckling, the woman shifted the rifle in her hands. "If I were an overly sensitive nun I wouldn't ever be caught dead anywhere near the likes of you, Mr. Dixon."
Beaming at her, Merle eyed the surrounding woods for threats as they continued to walk the wall.
"Because deep down you know you can't resist ol' Merle, huh?"
She laughed. "Well, I'm currently married, Mr. Dixon, you may be barking up the wrong tree."
"Yeah, but can your husband bench press you?"
"Well, maybe, I know he's turned water into wine at times…"
"Can't compete with that."
"Besides, I doubt you're that strong," she added.
"Wanna find out?"
"Sure, why don't you go and find a nice place to get ready and I'll stop by when I'm finished being a nun."
"Soon, right?"
"A lifetime."
Tsking, Merle stopped dead in his tracks. "I bet we could sneak in a quickie behind the infirmary where no one'll be the wiser."
"A quickie? Good Lord! You must think I'm some Jezebel!" She turned on him with a mock stern look.
"Well, the feelings will linger long after we're apart," he replied.
She laughed again. "You must think you're God's gift, Mr. Dixon!"
"I've been told I'm an unholy terror."
"I'll tell you what, Mr. Dixon, why don't you head on over to the church and I'll come in when my shift's over—"
"I already heard the kneeling prayer joke, it wasn't funny then and it's not going to get a different response now."
"Oh, well, then we have nothing more to say to each other," the woman stated and moved off along the top of the wall, graceful as a cat.
Merle watched her go, enjoying the view.
Turning he found an entire audience of women watching him from the garden plot below the wall and he grinned.
"Ladies, garden looks good."
"Merle Dixon, you leave that poor woman alone," the head nun said. "We can't have you sniffing around a Sister of this convent like some kind of predatory wolf."
"Tell that to that Cajun of yours," he replied, wandering off in the opposite direction that Sister Joan had gone, heading for Carl on the wall. "Heard he spent the night in your bed…"
Behind him he heard the woman gasp and grinned. Sometimes the fucking gossip grapevine that encircled the convent was useful.
..-~-..
..-~-..
Hopping off the wall an hour later, he approached the Cajun who was cleaning a few rabbits he had caught for the night's meal.
The soldier seemed to have been paused in the midst of his work, watching the women as they sat around in a circle mending clothes on the lawns, chattering away. In particular he seemed to be eyeing an area near Carol and Grace as the two women seemed inseparable lately.
"I don't get them myself," Merle greeted, flopping onto the grass at the soldier's side.
Drawing his eyes from the women, the Lieutenant bowed them back to his work.
"But they sure are great to watch, especially when they get together in groups and giggle," Merle went on.
Quietly slicing away the skin of the rabbit, the Cajun seemed drawn to his work. Quiet and introverted, something that wasn't like him.
"So, you're really planning on going through with this plot, huh? Stepping into the mouth of the beast?" Squinting at the soldier, Merle couldn't help but taunt, "they're going to kill you, you know that, right?"
"You put so little faith in me, Texian."
"No, I've thought about this. You're not so good at close quarters combat. They're going to kill you."
The Cajun grinned at his work. "Are you basing this on that takedown I made of you? Because as I recall I won that bout."
"You got lucky and took me by surprise."
"Sure I did."
They fell silent, taking in the rare serenity of the afternoon, Annie and her dog playing nearby, the women laughing and chatting not too much further than that, people idly strolling on the wall, keeping watch.
Merle couldn't remember a day when he had been sober enough, or the biters had been so few and far between that he could actually enjoy just sitting around like he used to.
If he had to be completely honest with himself, he liked it at the convent far more than he ever did at Woodbury. With Woodbury there was always that darker side that he was privy to, while the others went about their perfect life behind the walls, he went out and did the dirty work that ensured they maintained that high class, shit-don't-stink lifestyle.
At the convent what you saw was what you got. The Cajun would always be a weird fucker, the nuns prudish and almost matronly, the priest always willing to sit down and have a chat, despite Merle pushing for a fight half the time.
He couldn't imagine the place being as comforting as it felt without the soldier.
And that was what it all boiled down to.
Merle actually liked the marine. Go figure.
Looking over at the man beside him, he found the Cajun's eyes on the women again and smirked, following his gaze. Maybe he wanted to pick a fight with him because he really was bored, or maybe it was because deep down he actually felt he'd miss the man when he was gone and wanted to part on bad terms to lessen the loss.
Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.
"You eyeing my brother's lady friend, gator-baiter?"
The Cajun flushed and dropped his gaze quickly. "No."
"So, you're eyeing the nun with her, then."
"Merle, you ever hear the story of Èṣù?"
"Never."
"One day the Voodoo trickster God Èṣù walked into a village wearing a hat that was red on one side and black on the other, and after he left the villagers got into an argument over what colour his hat was. Those on the left side of the road said it was black and those on the right said it was red. They argued so hard and vehemently that eventually they came to blows and before night fell the entire village had killed each other in a rage. When Èṣù learned of this tragedy, he laughed and said 'bringing strife is my greatest joy'."
"So?"
"I'm not done yet. Now, there's an alternate version of the story, where Èṣù is shown as being merciful, he goes back before any real harm can take place and preaches to the villagers on how important perceptions can be. How they should always look at something from the point of view of their brothers, because sometimes things are not always what they seem. My point is, what kind of trickster do you intend to be? Merciful or cold?"
Merle scowled at the Cajun. "I think you're just trying to razzle dazzle me away from the topic of you and that nun."
"Cold."
"Call it what you will, rumour around the camp is you have sinful desires for that woman."
"Merle, we both know that you're the one who loves to spread half the gossip around here."
"I get bored," he admitted with a shrug. "So?"
"So? I think you're just rabble rousing. Look at this day, I've watched you all morning flitting around here, causing trouble and strife wherever you tread. Why? What's your purpose in making people uncomfortable and unhappy?"
Getting sick of having people always asking him to explain himself, Merle frowned. "Fuck you, coonass, that's why."
"Merle, I gave you fair warning about calling me that."
"Fuck that coonass grandmother of yours too." Grinning, Merle was pleased to find a button he could press with the easy-going Cajun.
"Don't talk about my Mamere like that, either."
Finding the way the soldier shifted uncomfortably in his spot amusing, Merle pushed on. "Hell, maybe I'll crawl into that nun's bed tonight and give her what you can't. Squeeze her titties good and hard to give her a reason to squeal, huh?"
Perhaps he was just looking for a fight, or too wrapped up in his amusement over torturing the Cajun, but Merle didn't notice the way the man's spine straightened.
"Bet she'd be tight too, damn near rip my dick off when she comes." He went on with a smug grin.
Startled to find a six-four Cajun colliding into him, Merle grunted as he was knocked to the ground, collapsing under the soldier.
It was then that his vision went red and his daddy's rage clicked in.
Merle tried to get up to get at the Cajun, but the taller, shockingly stronger man pushed him back down, his blade managed to slash at the soldier's forearm as he went, giving him a chance to squirm out from under the man.
The two men lunged at each other, Merle getting a good left jab in, before he tackled the Lieutenant to the ground. His blade aimed at the other man, being held off by the Lieutenant's hands.
They rolled around beating the shit out of each other for what could have been hours for all Merle knew, it wasn't until Father O'Rourke and Tyreese moved in to hold both men back, that Merle realized just how much their little tiff had gathered attention.
Everyone from the convent seemed to have gathered around them, eyes panicked and wide.
Across from him, being restrained by Tyreese, the Cajun glowered, a look that was foreign to his normally kind features. If Merle were a weaker man it would actually be terrifying, as it was he was still in 'rage mode' and couldn't manage much more than a hard glare in return.
Licking his broken bottom lip, the Cajun panted, face softening. "I'm sorry I lost my temper." He said.
This wasn't at all what he was expecting, Merle's face actually dropped.
"I shouldn't have hit you, Merle," the Lieutenant went on.
Exchanging a confused glance with the priest who restrained him, Merle didn't know how to react. He was used to people hating him, holding grudges whenever he tried to start fights, but he wasn't used to almost immediate forgiveness.
Pulling out of Tyreese's grip, the Lieutenant stood about quietly, calmly.
Father O'Rourke slowly released Merle and the men milled about for a moment, before finally Carol spoke.
"Okay, everyone, let's get back to work."
As the others broke up, leaving Merle and the Lieutenant facing off quietly, being watched by the priest and Tyreese, the Cajun approached him slowly.
Merle tensed, ready for another fight.
Stopping about a foot from him, the Lieutenant angled his head to keep their conversation private.
"You were looking for a button and you found it, but my advice to you is; don't ever push it again."
Jesus. Merle actually felt a little bad. He was too shocked by the man's immediate forgiveness to hold any lingering anger like he normally would.
That had never happened in his life.
He didn't know if he should hit the man or apologize.
Okay, well he'd never fucking apologize, but goddamn he was close.
"I have to get this stitched up," the Lieutenant motioned to his arm. "You want to finish cleaning these for me?"
Merle couldn't find words, so he nodded.
"Okay, after we'll think about plotting some space for that cold root cellar idea of yours, yeah?"
Again Merle nodded, watching the Cajun move off, his brow wrinkled.
What the hell just happened? He got the fight he was looking for, but it didn't entertain him as much as it should have. He seriously had to stop trying to fight the Cajun, because the results were never as satisfactory as they should have been.
He kind of felt violated in a strange way.
"Hey, gator-baiter!" He called out after the Lieutenant.
The Cajun turned.
"We'll figure out a way to get you out of Woodbury alive," Merle said. "Can't be that hard."
The Lieutenant smiled his crooked grin. "Thanks, Merle."
Merle dipped his head quickly and turned away to finish cleaning the rabbits.
The Cajun Dialect
Haria - Troublemaker