Merle's Right Hand - Um...did it seem like she was still a walker? No, she's dead. DEAD. Dead. Like not at all moving, stiff, dead, corpse-y dead. This is probably something which confused a lot of people...ah well. What's done is done. ^_^
Surplus Imagination - I'm glad. I do enjoy when people request certain things, I gives me an excuse to write them...
HGRHfan35 - I would imagine typical dude talk isn't all about tits and ass, they just like us to think that...
Brazen Hussy - Well, you've been such a patient dear, I hope this chapter makes your day. ^_^ (It made mine writing it).
MollyMayhem84 - I tried to find a balance in between graphic novel Gov and TV Gov...hope it balanced properly. I mean the dude is pretty effed in the head...so...and yes, it's Black Shane...is his name Shupert or Shubert? Or neither? (He shall remain nameless for now).
Supfan - Thank you! And I agree, no one is safe from the Gov's wrath now.
Lilone1776 - Yeah, things are going to get bloody and sad soon. I'm actually bummed about that.
AFishNamedSushi - Merle tattoo talk in the next chapter maybe...but Merle in this chapter, definitely.
GG - I imagine the Lt. read a lot in his downtime in the corps. And by his stack of well read National Geographic by his cot, I'd imagine he enjoys knowledge and reading, something which does give him an upper hand when it comes to the classics.
SilverWolf84 - Thank you. I enjoyed the man talk, I should write more...
So, finally a Merle chapter, with Milton in it as well, because I've decided Milton is going to be Merle's sidekick for a while...because they're fun to write together. So yeah...enjoy!
Chapter Seventy: Histoire
**Merle**
He slept like a little kid, limbs flung out in all directions, mouth agape to catch flies, face pressed into the pillow.
Standing over Milton, Merle grinned. He wasn't sure how he wanted to wake the brainy little nerd, he only knew he wanted it to be painful.
If there was one thing Merle enjoyed back at Woodbury it was tormenting Milton Mamet. The man was fun to torture, because if you pushed hard enough the little twerp would grow a borrowed pair and shoot off at the mouth.
The little prince of Woodbury was entertaining when riled, like a feisty little kitten.
Reaching out slowly Merle carefully pinched Milton's nose shut, hovering his palm over the man's mouth in preparation for his wake-up call. As Milton shot up in shock from having his nose closed, Merle shoved his palm down over his mouth, cutting off all air supply to the other man.
Struggling under Merle's grip, Milton flailed his arms about in a blind panic.
Releasing him after a moment, Merle beamed. "Morning, Miss Prissy."
Panting, Milton shot Merle a wicked sidelong look, rubbing at his face. "Even one handed you're a nuisance," he growled.
"Hungry?"
"A little."
"Too bad you missed breakfast then," Merle said. "Guess you should have gotten up earlier."
"I have canned food in my pack anyways," Milton replied, reaching for his bag that he had left at the side of his cot.
Merle swooped in and snatched the canvas bag out of Milton's hands, digging through it idly.
"No," he said simply. "No beans allowed in the frat house."
"I'm sorry, what do you call this shack?" Milton demanded, snatching his pack away from Merle's bladed stump.
"This here is the frat house, you wanna chase skirt you head over to the hen house, get it?"
"Clever," Milton replied, fumbling for his glasses out of the pack and putting them on. "Tell me, do you refer to the infirmary as the 'Den of Boo-boo's'?"
"We could start, smart ass."
"You know," Milton began, pulling on his Oxford's and lacing them. "You don't really need to monitor me"
"Of course I don't," Merle said. "You're too meek to be any real threat. But fuck it, I ain't got shit else to do."
"How fortunate for me."
The two men froze as someone knocked on the door.
"Yeah?" Merle finally barked.
"Merle, it's Carol are you decent in there?"
"Never, but you can come in anyways," he replied.
His brother's woman poked her head in and beamed at them, before moving inside completely, a plate of leftover breakfast in her hands.
"I thought you might be hungry, Mr. Mamet," she greeted.
Merle moved to snatch the plate away but was rebuffed by the woman smacking his hand quick as a viper.
"Damn woman," he snarled lightly.
"Merle, let the poor man eat something," she said.
"My baby bro know you're feeding him?"
Milton took the plate with a soft 'thanks' and eased onto his cot to eat it.
"Speaking of Daryl," Carol replied, folding her arms and resting her hip against the old lawn mower. "Has he been back yet? Sasha said that he headed out this morning with Rick and the Lieutenant to hunt."
"I ain't seen him but then again I'm not worried, the boy can handle himself."
"Well you may not be worried, but I am," she replied.
Merle eyed the woman his little brother had claimed as his own. She was a spitfire of a thing, but just a slip not even big enough to intimidate a mouse. He was kind of amazed at his brother's choice, but decided Daryl knew enough to know which kind of woman to avoid.
"Alright, if he's not back in a couple of hours I'll leave Wilty Milty with someone and head out to look for him, good enough?"
"Let's not make that a permanent nickname," Milton suggested.
Carol beamed at Merle, gripping his arm with her small hand. "Thank you, Merle. I'll go with you when you head out."
"What? Hell no, Daryl'll kick my ass." He replied.
"I couldn't send you out alone," she said. "It'll be okay, I'm not useless you know."
"Yeah well, anything happens to you, it's my ass on the line."
"It'll be fine," she said. "We'll give them two more hours."
After Carol left, Milton hooked his left leg over his right and steadied his plate on the knee. "Your sister-in-law seems like a nice woman."
"Shut up."
..-~-..
..-~-..
They were outside, walking the lawns idly, when Milton stopped to watch the nuns in the garden, curiously eyeing them as they plucked the young, tender weeds out of the rows delicately.
"You're fairly self-sustaining, aren't you?" He asked the nearest nun.
Sister Mary Claire smiled. "We've always been this way. Simple labour breeds results which we've taken to using at our own dinner table. This is the first year we've planted more than usual, however, because we're unsure how many more mouths we may need to feed come winter." She explained.
Milton angled his head. "Interesting and the physical labour doesn't take it's toll?"
"You get used to it," she replied.
"Now what do you generally grow?"
"Whatever we can in this climate," she replied.
"Do you plant your rows east to west or north to south usually?"
"North to south."
Merle sneered at the conversation. "Really, that's what you want to talk about?" He demanded.
Milton shrugged. "I know next to nothing about gardening, Merle. Every opportunity to expand my knowledge is useful to my survival should I ever need to grow plants to sustain myself and others."
"Have you ever gotten laid, Milt?"
With wide eyes, Milton moved the conversation away from Sister Mary Claire, heading for the empty spot of grass between the garden and the sheds.
"Tact isn't something that comes easy to you, is it Merle?"
"Tact can kiss my ass, you ever been with a woman or what?"
"Sex has never been high on my list of priorities," Milton replied.
"So that's a 'no' then?"
"Let me ask you something, Merle? Do you think treating women like sexual objects is something which helps or hinders your status as a solitary male figure? Because if you ask me, thinking about sex constantly is a sure sign that you don't know how relationships in general work."
"How about I kick your ass, think that'll help or hinder my status as a solitary male figure?" Merle inquired.
"Depends on who sees you beating me up. If it's a woman who's generally unimpressed by machismo then I'd say it would hinder your progress, however if she's the sort who likes blood then you may have a chance."
"You talk too much for a little man, Milt," Merle growled, glancing around at the convent yard.
Spying Glenn sitting alone on the church steps, Merle paused for a moment.
The man had been taking his woman's death harder than even her father and sister seemed to have been, but there wasn't much anyone seemed able to do for him, he was wounded and snapping at everyone like a wild beast.
"You're an egghead, right?" Merle asked Milton.
The man squinted at him. "I prefer 'educated man'."
"Whatever. You know much about grief?"
"I know enough to know it knows no bounds," Milton replied. "But psychologically, I'm afraid it's beyond my expertise. Why?"
"So you can't do anything about it?"
"Not in three words, no. Why?"
"Just curious."
"Of course."
They stood there for a few minutes in silence, eyeing the convent around them.
"Sister Mary Agnes," Merle greeted as the buxom woman wandered past. "You look as pretty a flower today."
She paused near them with a humble bow of her head. "Mr. Dixon, did you know the devil rests on the tongue of flatterers?"
At his side Milton angled his head slowly, eyeing Merle with narrowed green eyes.
Merle beamed. "Well, now you've got me at a loss for words."
"I don't think that's possible, Mr. Dixon," she replied, before continuing on her way.
Smiling at the back of the woman until she reached the garden, Merle turned to Milton and snapped, "what?"
The bespectacled man at his side turned his gaze away and clasped his hands before him. "Nothing."
"Shut up."
..-~-..
..-~-..
"Why'd you leave Woodbury?"
They had been sitting on the wall for an hour, Merle searching for signs of his baby brother and the men he was with, Milton eyeing his 'lady friend' tied beneath them to a tree.
Merle scowled. "The man wanted me to kill my own brother, you don't do that. Blood first, before anything the Governor could ever cook up. He lost any loyalty I may have had for him once he did that."
Milton adjusted his glasses and began dangling his feet like a kid. "Well, he's not himself."
"Keep making excuses for him, don't make me love the man anymore."
"I'm afraid you don't understand the pressures of leadership under such circumstances," Milton began. "Even the sanest man can crack."
"Yeah, well ol' Phil shot himself in the foot the instant he decided that Woodbury should be coddled. His people are weak because he made them that way. There was no real gun training, no survival training, nothing to teach them how to help themselves."
"In retrospect it's easy to place blame and sadly I agree with you, Merle. Woodbury should have been strengthened. These are trying times and civilization, the civilization Philip wanted for the people of Woodbury, is gone. But despite all of this, we are living in exciting times. The dawning of a new age, history being written as we speak, even this war between Woodbury and your brother's people, this is history."
"Is that why you record everything, Milt?"
The man nodded. "Yeah, I want history to be correct this time around. No cherry trees, no ignoring the Viking settlements, but truth. One must be objective in writing history; otherwise it's just a fairytale."
"I get you, Milton. Maybe it's good that someone is taking the time to record all this, get things right. Just make sure when you write about me you tell them how good I was with the women, okay?"
"I said this wasn't going to be a fairytale, Merle."
"Shut up." Using his stump arm carefully, Merle shoved Milton off the wall onto the ground below him, laughing as the nerd crumpled gracelessly.
Scrambling to his feet, Milton eyed him, brushing leaves off his clothes. "Very mature, Merle. I guess you won that argument."
"Sure did, now beat it, I ain't watching you anymore."
"Could you help me back up at least?"
"Hell no," Merle growled.
"Fine, I'll walk all the way to the gate with no weapon…" Milton griped.
"It ain't far, little prince."
The two men froze at the sounds of snaps and crashing coming from the forest behind Milton.
"Help me up, Merle." Milton whispered.
Stooping quickly, Merle offered the little brain his good hand up.
Grasping it, Milton struggled to find purchase for his feet as he tried to get up onto the wall, but he failed, falling back to the ground.
Releasing Milton's hand, Merle grabbed his pistol. "Stay where you are, Milt."
The two men eyed the woods as the snapping and crashing grew closer.
"He making a break for it?"
Merle whipped his pistol in the direction of the speaker, finding his baby brother and the others emerging from the woods calmly.
"Jesus, baby bro, could have shot you dead."
Daryl scoffed. "That'd make my day ten times better…" Gripping Milton's arm on his way by, Daryl shoved the man in front of him. "Get moving."
Following them on the wall, Merle beamed. "You should head off to find your woman, she was getting antsy."
"That was my fault," the Lieutenant said. "We moved south of the creek, I don't know that area all that well. Got a little turned around for a bit."
"Wasn't nothing," Daryl stated.
"He give you any grief, Merle?" Rick asked.
"Nah, just being his usual know-it-all-asshole self."
"Thank you, Merle. I thought we reconnected nicely as well," Milton replied.
"Why was he outside the wall, then?" Rick demanded.
"He fell off it while we were up here on the lookout for you."
"Believe me, outside the wall is the last place I want to be without a weapon." Milton said. "When will I get mine back, by the way?"
"Third of never, Dirty Harry," Daryl snarled shoving the man in through the gate as Father O'Rourke opened it for them. "Get inside."
"Better be careful how you treat that one, baby bro," Merle stated. "You might be written into history as a huge asshole."
Milton flashed a shy, dimpled grin at Merle as they shared their inside joke.
The Cajun Dialect
Histoire - History