HGRHfan35 - I believe firmly that Milton would be a sassy little shit. And Merle is not immune.
LaurenEmilyxx -I agree. He's adorable, but an easy target for Merle. I think he'll give as good as he gets though. Thanks for the review! ^_^
Silvercreekmama - Yeah, Merle needs someone to tame him a little. At least teach him a little tact (though not too much, because his tactless nature is what makes me love him). Thanks for the review! Kindly appreciated! ^_^
Brazen Hussy -I'm working on it, girl. I'm working on it! ^_^ Merle will get some loving, I promise.
Guest (oooh, very mysterious!) -I hope to have an entire chapter devoted to the Gov soon. And I agree, seeing things from his cock-eyed POV is a delight for me. Thanks for the review! I greatly appreciate it.
Mei Ju -They do get along great, don't they? Brain and brawn is always a good pairing. Thanks for the review!
Ms Q -I'm actually hoping to break up the chapters of my sequel to this story with chapters of excerpts from Milton's historical documentation.
teatotaller-ff -They make me happy too! Thanks for the review!
Peta2 -Haha! I'm glad you think that. He is kind of loveable in his Merlesque way.
Merle's Right Hand -I'm hoping for a few more good Milton and Merle scenes or chapters.
peonies01 -Thank you. Your review has actually touched me a little. I feel like I just...I just feel good when people say lovely things like that. Thank you very much, from the very bottom of my heart. You're a kind and wonderful person. ^_^
MollyMayhem84 -I agree. Daryl would knock Milton on his ass. He seems awfully protective of her. And thanks for the Shumpert head's up. I wouldn't have even guessed that one...
Lilone1776 -The Gov's got it out for the three M's, don't he? Michonne, Merle and Milton are going to be on the top of his shit list during the final showdown.
GG -I imagine Carol would not let anyone starve on her watch. She seems like a kind and sweet woman like that.
Surplus Imagination - What is it about Merle? Even when he's an ass we all kind of go 'that's Merle, isn't he awesome'. I love the man though.
Axelrocks -They are fantastic together, aren't they? I may need to write more Milton and Merle scenes...or even chapters. Or adventures!
itsi3 -Hey, glad you caught up! Thanks for this kind review and the others, you are truly a wonderful person for letting a fanfiction writer know how much you love and appreciate their work. You're a wonderful human being. ^_^
I'd like to give a special shout-out to MollyMayhem84 for giving me the name of Black Shane. It's actually Shumpert...now whether that's his first or last name, I won't know until the next season...so...unless he's in the graphic novels...which I doubt. Maybe...I don't know. I'm too lazy to check that out.
Chapter Seventy-One: Chacun
**Sister Mary Agnes**
There was a time, she could recall, when the entire convent was vibrating with uncertainty.
The others had gone off to the nearby town and it was a week before the remaining sisters went to the Mother Superior to inquire about them.
She had done a remarkable job of appeasing their worries, of giving them reassurance and calm words of guidance.
For months they remained quiet and solitary inside the walls, tending their garden, attending their mass.
It wasn't until the Lieutenant hopped up onto their wall, that they realized how far the world had fallen. He was alone, his form made stark by the sun that shone against his back.
Sister Mary Agnes had thought him the most heroic man she had ever seen, just by the way he knelt there on their wall, eyeing them quietly, his strong back loaded down with gear and a pack and a bedroll on top of it all. But he was scruffy and gaunt, looked like he missed a few good, hearty meals and some nights of deep, peaceful sleep.
It was the Mother Superior who stood up from where she knelt at work first, using her hand to shield her eyes from the light, eyeing the soldier on their wall.
In the days that followed they were never given any specifics, only that the Lieutenant would be 'stationed' as he called it then, at the convent for their protection.
He was nice enough man, spoke in that funny way the Cajun people from the Louisiana bayou spoke, but it was his smile that she supposed put her at ease with his presence most of all. It wasn't predatory, it wasn't judgemental of their lifestyle, it was one of those smiles that seemed genuinely pleased to be in your presence. The kind of smile that touched his eyes, that lit them from the inside with absolute delight.
Then came Annie, bedraggled, hungry, frightened at their gate, peering through it with wide, horrified hazel eyes through hair that was matted and wild.
For days after she arrived she wouldn't sleep, moved about listlessly, restless, screamed at anything that displeased her, flew into uncontrollable rages at small things.
The Mother Superior had taken it upon herself to care for the poor child, fluttering around her like a mother hen, getting on her to do normal things, teaching her basic educational skills, how to read the alphabet, how to count up to one hundred and beyond.
For the first few weeks the girl avoided the Lieutenant, whether afraid of his height or his rifle, Mary Agnes was never certain, but once Annie got over that fear of the man she became his shadow, trailing behind him everywhere he went, counting their steps out loud to practice her numbers and he showed remarkable patience with her.
But it was the Mother Superior who developed a deeper relationship with Annie to begin with, holding her at night in her cot, humming to her when the skies rumbled with thunder.
But came the spring and the two men the Lieutenant had dragged back with him, things changed drastically. The first thing she was reminded of when she was put on infirmary duty beside Merle Dixon's bed was that he reminded her very much of her late husband, first and foremost in how he looked, but once he came too, she was reminded of the way Francis didn't think he was worth much, cursed and swore and basically put on a 'tough guy' act to deflect from his own perceived shortcomings.
She supposed that was why she found herself watching him more than any of the others.
Merle Dixon reminded her of a long lost love.
And Francis (may he rest forever in the Lord's arms) had eventually come around, she poked and prodded him enough that he was moved back into shape, his cursing mellowed, his mean streak tamed and he proved to be a wonderful man and an even greater husband.
The darkest nights she spent by his hospital bed had been her most wretched, watching him lose weight, watching his sun roughened, bronzed skin turn pale and papery, watching him retch until he vomited blood from tears in his esophagus, watching him wither away into a very vague, ghastly form of what he once was. And she prayed to God to end Francis' suffering, to deliver him from the pain and God listened.
The odd peace Francis' face had taken the instant he finally stopped struggling to breathe, the moment those awful sounds of his ended were the most blessed she could recall.
He was at peace. Truly at peace.
It didn't stop the hurt though. Grief was the blackest of all human experiences.
Being a devout woman, she took her vows not long after that, thankful to God for delivering her husband into the embrace of His kingdom and she never regretted her choice. He had provided for her. Her entire life God had provided for her.
Now his place of worship, the convent and it's walls, were a haven for her and the others from the monsters that haunted the woods outside. The vague shadows of the men and women they once were that stumbled about hungry for the flesh of the living.
She had never intended for Merle Dixon to ever catch her staring at him, but she knew he had. The past few days he had been staring back at her whenever she glanced about for him.
She wondered if perhaps she was mistaken in seeing Francis in him, for Merle was shorter, broader, his jaw was more square, his smile wider, maybe it had been a trick of the light.
Still, she was pleased that Mr. Dixon seemed content to just watch her from afar. She had seen him pursuing poor Sister Joan and she didn't think she wanted that kind of attention from him.
Which was why she felt a little guilty when she found him easing onto the log at her side as she sat before the campfire cleaning rifles, a grin on his face and hope in his eyes.
"Sister, you clean those rifles like they're poisonous snakes," he greeted.
She smiled warmly to her work, afraid to look him in the eyes. "I have to admit, Mr. Dixon, I'm not fond of weapons."
"These days you can't afford to be delicate with them." He replied.
Stopping her work, she finally looked up at him. "Are you a good man, Mr. Dixon?"
His smiled faded somewhat in confusion. "No."
"But you try to be?" She asked, turning back to her task.
"Some days. Some days it's easier to be the bad guy."
"Why?"
"Because don't I look like the bad guy?" He asked.
"No," she replied.
"Why not?"
"Because if we judged a person by how they look we'd never get anywhere in life. Your brother is a good man, yet he has what Grace would call a 'goat's scruff', Rick is a good man, but he carries a gun, the Lieutenant is a good man, but his profession was and is a profession of death." She looked over at him. "You're a good man, who's most likely been down some rough roads in his life."
"You don't know me, Sister." He replied. "I ain't good. Far from it."
"What we've done in our past is forgiven by how penitent we are now. If you're truly sorry for the wicked things you've done, God will forgive you, but it's you that needs to forgive yourself more than anyone else."
Merle was quiet at her side for a moment.
She knew he was a smarter man than he let on, and she knew he was thinking this over.
"Is that from the bible?" Mr. Mamet asked, leaning forward from the other side of Merle so that he could see her.
"Shut up," Merle snarled to the man.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Little Missy**
Resting her head against Mr. Daryl's dog, Annie doodled on the little chalkboard Mother Mena had given her. She was supposed to be practicing her spelling, printing out the words to the flash card pictures she had at her side, but instead she was drawing a rooster eating pizza on the moon, humming the tune the Lieutenant always sang to her at night.
One day she planned to learn to write so that she could leave a letter to the Lieutenant in his pack. She wanted to surprise him with a note that read 'I love you' so that when he opened his pack he would know she loved him and that she was learning to write. Mother Mena would be proud she learnt to write as well, but it was the Lieutenant she most wanted to impress. If she made him proud enough maybe he would want to keep her.
Frowning she wiped her doodle away and picked up her first card.
"Cat," she muttered to herself.
It should be easy, but something about the word seemed tricky. So she sounded it out a few times like Mother Mena said to do. "Cah…ca-ha…"
Spying Mr. Rick heading past her hiding spot under the peach tree, she chirped. "Mr. Rick?"
The tall, friendly man paused, kneeling to bring himself to eye level with Annie. There was something about his eyes that she liked, they were shining and pleasant.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Does cat start with a K or a C?"
"Am I supposed to be helping you?" He asked.
"No," she admitted softly.
Mr. Rick glanced around, before smiling at her. "C," he finally said.
Annie beamed at him and scratched C onto the chalkboard.
"Thank you," she cooed.
"You're welcome," he replied, before carrying on his way.
Eyeing the cat on the flashcard and the C on the board, she scowled.
"Cah…c-ha…"
She motioned Ms. Michonne over from where she was on the wall.
The pretty woman hopped down and headed towards her. Ms. Michonne was quiet, and at first she scared Annie, because she didn't smile much, but one time she brought Annie a chocolate bar back from a supply run and Annie couldn't be scared of someone who brought her chocolate.
"Ms. Michonne, does cat have an H in it?"
"No, honey."
"So it's just C-A-T, right?"
"That's it."
Annie printed a capital A and T beside the C on her board and giggled proudly. "Cat! C-A-T. Cat. Thank you."
"You're very welcome." The woman took up her watch on the wall again.
Admiring her printing, Annie stroked Mr. Daryl's dog, before scratching Boo behind the ears as she laid across Annie's legs. "Cat doesn't have an H," she reminded herself. "It starts with a C. Cat."
Finding Mother Mena heading her way from the gate, Annie waved.
"How's it going, honey?"
Holding up her chalkboard proudly, Annie pointed out the letters. "C-A-T. That spells cat."
"Very good! Now try spelling it on your own."
Busted, Annie groaned and tossed the chalkboard down. "Spelling is hard."
"Conjugating verbs is hard, child. Spelling takes practice." Mother Mena said, taking a seat on the grass beside her, her back against the tree trunk.
Picking at a scab on her knee, Annie frowned sullenly at the grass.
"Mother Mena?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think the Lieutenant likes me?"
"Of course he likes you, Annie Louise. What kind of silly question is that?"
"What if he didn't?" She asked. "Do you think he'd leave us too?"
"He's not going anywhere, honey. Why are you asking such things anyways?"
Annie shrugged, before crawling over to sit in Mother Mena's lap. "Do you like me?" She asked, wrapping her arms around the woman's neck.
"You know I love you, Annie." She replied, stroking Annie's hair out of her eyes.
Mother Mena's hugs were always soft and warm and she smelled like sweet peas and sunshine, a complete contrast from the Lieutenant's hard, cool hugs and his woods and rain smell.
"Mother Mena?"
"Yes?"
"Are you really my mommy now?"
There was a pause and Annie thought maybe Mother Mena hadn't heard her, so she repeated the question.
The woman smoothed Annie's hair back again. "Do you want me to be?"
Annie shrugged. "My other mommy isn't coming back, is she?"
"I don't think so, Annie."
Pressing deeper into Mother Mena's arms, Annie played with a button on the woman's blouse. "I think you should be my mommy then."
Mother Mena smiled down at her. "Okay, sweetie."
"Mother Mena? I mean, mommy?"
"Yes, honey?"
"Can you teach me how to write 'I love you', I wanna write it for the Lieutenant for him to keep in his pack."
The woman beamed at her. "Of course I can. But you still have to learn to spell other words too, okay?"
Annie nodded. "Yeah!"
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Shumpert**
They had started back where they last saw the prison group.
It made sense to him to start at the beginning.
Something about being back at the prison bothered him though. He wasn't a killer, the Governor said the prison group were terrorists and true they needed to start watching out for their own in a world without law, but he didn't like it. Didn't like that people turned on people when there was a greater threat braying at the door.
Stooping near the freshly dug grave, Shumpert eyed his surroundings. It was clear the grave had been dug in the past week or so, the prison should have been empty, but here was a freshly dug grave and no gunshots to greet them.
He stood up, nodding to the others to look around.
Something didn't add up. No one to greet them meant the prison was empty still, but a freshly dug grave meant someone had been there.
They had to be nearby. There was a reason the grave was with the others.
He needed a detailed map of the area for a place large enough to house the prison group, some kind of compound or farm.
The Cajun Dialect
Chacun – Each one.