Brazen Hussy - If you loved mushy Merle in that chapter, wait'll you get a load of this Merle!
Whooptiedoo - Have to love concussion/blood loss confusion/babbling.
HGRHfan35 - I'm hoping in this story and the sequel to build Merle's character, to have him grow and develop the way he should have been developed. Because I love the man and he had so much potential.
ImOrca - That was a typo actually, I meant to spell 'dog' she was a 'dog' shot. Thanks for catching it. ^_^
peonies01 - I figured Merle and Carol must both be going through hell right now...not really knowing.
Merle's Right Hand - You might scold the Lt. but deep down I know you love his dirty babbling.
MollyMayhem84 - I agreed with everything you said. Not a single thing did I disagree with. Nope. Nothing. (Have I mentioned how much I love you and your reviews, you've really been a huge supporter of my work, if you didn't know that you need to know how much I appreciate you, so thanks. Reviews like yours are what make my grey days feel bright).
itsi3 - I agree. As long as they're at the convent they're safe...I hope.
basically-a-fangirl - I'm glad you're happy. ^_^ Thanks for the review!
eieball326 - At least I update fairly quickly, right? RIGHT? XD Thanks for the review!
Supfan - I love that people accepted the love story. I was expecting some hate mail from super duper religious types.
GG - Haha, don't care for Rick, huh? (Me? Personally I love the man, rewatching seasons 1-3 all I can think is how much I just want to hug him...he needs a hug).
LL - Did you just bust out into some serious Queen on me? (LOVE IT!)
RuinNyght - It's hell being in that limbo state while a loved one is in surgery, isn't it? I feel for Carol and Merle right now so much.
Hey kids, I want to take this moment to plug a beautiful little Milton Mamet centred story written by one of the neatest (and I've heard sexiest) creatures on the planet. Our own Merle's Right Hand (you may recognize her as the talented lady who did the cover art for this silly story). It's called That I Should Rise and it's right here on . So go and show her some love, because it's two chapters of pure perfection.
Chapter Eighty-Two: Jongler
**Tyreese**
The Mall
Grabbing hold of Andrea so he didn't lose her in the rain, Tyreese led them in the exact opposite direction as the walkers that were chasing after them. He knew if they kept running they'd come to the woods eventually, thinking they might have better coverage amongst the trees.
He didn't even care to look back. He knew those hungry bastards were behind them, snapping at their heels as they tore across the pavement for the trees.
It was a shit day which had opened into a rainy evening and was fast becoming a shit night as the rain didn't seem like it was going to let up and – oh yeah – there was a shitload of infected at their heels.
Andrea's limping was dragging them down, but Tyreese wasn't going to just let her fend for herself, he wasn't that kind of man. Poor thing had no real defence, just some crappy little 9mm pistol.
He shoved her ahead of him, pushing her on, keeping himself between her and the infected.
She stopped anyways, turning back to the infected with her gun raised.
"We don't have time," he urged, gripping her arm again.
Andrea pulled away roughly and continued to fire at the walkers at their heels.
"Come on," he said, firing a few rounds himself, just to keep the infected from falling upon them. Gripping Andrea's arm again, he flung her behind him, firing at the infected that were getting closer. "Run!" He shouted back to her.
She hobbled off for the woods, Tyreese giving her cover fire enough to get away clear, before he followed her.
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Sister Mary Agnes**
The Convent
Hurrying across the lawns in the rain, she kept the cold bowl of leftovers under the protection of the heavy jacket she borrowed from Father O'Rourke as she made her way towards the old garden shed.
She had been sleeping when the others came back, but had woken when Annie woke screaming.
To her surprise Grace emerged from Sister Gertrude's room, heading in the direction of the wee one's screaming and peeking into the room the woman had recently vacated, she spied the Lieutenant sleeping peacefully in the cot.
It was then that she realized the group from Woodbury had returned and while she was pleased that the Marine was back, she was eager to check on Mr. Dixon.
She thought she'd pop in quickly with some food for him, a good enough excuse to disturb him if he was sleeping.
Tapping lightly on the door, enough to be heard, but not loud enough to wake anyone, she waited for a moment, before opening the door and peeking inside.
Merle Dixon was sitting up on his cot, knees drawn, elbows resting on the tops of them.
"I thought you'd be hungry," she explained softly, pulling the bowl out from within the jacket.
He blinked at her, before motioning her inside with his good hand. "I was thinking of sleep," he greeted as she handed him the bowl, "but this fucking rain makes it hard."
Sister Mary Agnes smiled. "I'm glad you're back safely. I see you found the Lieutenant."
He nodded, shovelling a spoonful of leftover stew into his mouth, it was the last of their canned supply, but they were about to begin on the military rations in the church, at least for canned vegetables. "Dumb ass was trussed up like a gutted pig," Merle said. "We cut him loose, dragged his ass over field and stream, he'd better show some gratitude."
"He will, you know he will, the Lieutenant is many things, but he's always been the kind of man who knows a good thing when he sees it." She hesitated, before adding, "I know you're grateful to have him back."
"Am I?" Merle grunted.
"Aren't you?"
The man tapped his spoon against the side of the chipped white bowl, chewing slowly, thoughtfully on his mouthful of stew, before swallowing. "Well, I know my baby brother will like the fact his soldier boy is okay."
"I prayed for Daryl," she said. "Prayed he'd come back to us in good health."
"Yeah? You get a busy signal from God on that one?" Merle inquired.
"We're blessed here," she stated. "God has provided us shelter and safety within these walls, he hasn't abandoned us."
"You think Sister Gertrude and Mary Monica might argue that point?"
Bowing her head at the memory of her sisters that day beside the church, Mary Agnes took a seat on the Lieutenant's old cot.
"You're a pessimist, Mr. Dixon," she pointed out. "All you see is the negative."
"Because that's all there is," he replied. "Daryl ain't going to come out of surgery, just like the Lieutenant isn't going to brush off a near death like it ain't no thing. This new world changes people for the worst."
"Not you," she argued. "Hasn't it changed you for the better? Aren't you looked at as more than some strung out redneck?"
"Is that what you think I was before all of this went down?" He asked.
She tilted her head at him and he beamed.
"Alright, so I'm kicking biter ass, so what? Doesn't make me a fucking hero."
"But you are, don't you know?" She smiled, clasping her hands together. "You know what Annie said to me yesterday? She thinks you're so strong you could lift the church, she thinks you're an angel."
Merle laughed. "Me? An angel? Yeah, sure, one who likes to drink and screw and swear, right?"
Sister Mary Agnes laughed too, but for a completely different reason. She was laughing because it was nice to see Merle smile. He rarely did it without a snarky comment preceding or following it. "Children don't see people like that," she stated. "Annie thinks the world of you and your brother and Rick and Glenn and Herschel and Michonne and anyone who has taken the time to talk to her or smile at her or play with her. All she wants, all any child wants is to make friends. She's happy here with us, she's safe, she's blessed."
"She's spoiled," Merle argued. "If that were my kid she'd be handling a gun by now."
"She's six and the Lieutenant knows what he's doing, if there's one man I trust to make good judgement calls on something like that it'd be him, he handles a gun better than anyone and he'll know when she's ready for one." Pushing to her feet, she smiled at him softly. "But I didn't come here to debate guns and children with you. I only wanted to make sure you ate something."
"Why?"
"Because, Mr. Dixon, I care about you."
He beamed at her. It was that grin he got before he made some kind of blue remark, so she cut him off swiftly.
"Maybe give that some thought before you try to hit on me," she suggested.
With a dying grin, he bowed his head to the bowl in his lap and took another bite.
Sister Mary Agnes eyed him quietly for a moment, before speaking again. "You're a good man, Mr. Dixon. I hope one day you'll see your worth."
"It's cold tonight, sister."
He stopped her at the door with his voice and she turned to find him grinning again.
"The kind of cold that's beaten with two warm bodies in one bed," he finished with a small tilt of his head towards his cot.
She smiled at him. "I can ask Father O'Rourke if he wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you tonight," she teased. "But I think he might deny that request."
Merle chuckled as though he was expecting that kind of remark.
Moving to the cot she had perched on, she removed the thin blanket and stepped over to drape it over his shoulders, tucking it around him gently. "For tonight, you may have to settle with layers instead of a woman."
"Well there's a first," he replied.
"I know it doesn't mean much for me to say, but I'm proud of what you did today for the Lieutenant. Getting him back was risky and I know he wouldn't want you to have risked yourself like that for him, but I'm happy you did. The good a man does lives on long after he's gone." She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, but he flinched away and she hesitated for a moment before completing the motion.
For a few seconds he gazed up at her with startled blue eyes, before he scoffed. "Christ," he said, "you go and make me feel like some damned hero it's gonna go to my head."
"I hope it does."
..-~-..
..-~-..
**Sasha**
The Mall
They had been left to guard the trucks which were parked on the eastern side of the mall, standing on the roof of one, Beth on the roof of the other truck, Sasha struggled to make out anything in the rain and dark, her rifle clenched in nervous hands.
Pops from gunshots in the distance broke over the rushing sound of the rain and Beth immediately raised her rifle, Sasha doing the same.
"Woodbury?" Beth asked softly.
Sasha narrowed her eyes at the grey hazy distance. "I don't know. Probably."
"We should take cover," Beth suggested.
Turning her eyes on the forest to their back, she found a figure emerging and nearly squeezed the trigger before she recognized Rick.
"Jesus," she scolded him. "I nearly shot you in the face."
He held up his hands. "We're pulling it inside tonight, there's too much rain."
"Did you hear the shots?" Beth asked him.
Rick nodded. "Yeah, but there's nothing we can do, we can't see anything. You two get inside the mall through the backdoor, I'll head out to see what the problem is."
Sasha frowned. "I'm not letting you go on your own."
"Beth can't head to the mall on her own either," Rick replied casually. "Get inside. I'll be right there with the others. Through the back or Glenn'll shoot you."
Before Sasha could protest any further, the man was gone, back into the woods.
"That man is a tall drink of stupid," she muttered, looking over at Beth with a grin hoping to comfort her with a joke of sorts. "Cute, but crazy."
Beth smiled nervously.
"Come on, sweetie. Let's get inside before we get picked off."
The young woman nodded and began to descend from her perch.
"Can't be running around in this rain," Sasha went on muttering. "Catch pneumonia and die, that'll be ironic. Oh hell no, Sasha was done in by the common cold. Like I could get a dignified death…" she hopped off the truck roof and rounded it to meet up with Beth who still looked a little terrified of the thickness of the rain around them. "We'll hug the mall," she said. "That way we'll only have to watch one direction for threats."
Beth nodded. "Okay."
Sasha smiled at her. "Don't worry, we have the upper hand."
"Why's that?"
"Because we're smarter than the average infected."
"What if it's the men from Woodbury though?"
"We're smarter than them too," Sasha replied with a grin. "But don't spread that around, arrogance is usually the downfall of a proud civilization."
Beth's steps faltered as they heard more gunshots, it was hard to pinpoint them exactly as the sound bounced off the raindrops that were falling, causing the sound to envelope them entirely.
If the rain didn't let up, if the men from Woodbury were already at the mall, if walkers or anything else turned up, they would be sitting ducks.
It wasn't a nice feeling, being at the mercy of the weather, being in a place so exposed and so unfamiliar to them, but it was a dark necessity, she supposed. If the threat at Woodbury wasn't eliminated they'd be victims, faceless names who fell by the wayside while the stronger group survived.
Jesus, it was almost political, almost historical, it was almost like she was living in the best of times and worst of times.
Where the hell was Dickens to write their tale when she needed him? Pity for the poor, the underfed, the over worked, the orphaned and the wretched was his specialty.
The two women stopped short at the sound of screeching tires and more gunshots.
"That's the men from Woodbury, isn't it?" Beth asked. "It has to be, right?"
Sasha frowned. "I don't know, sweetie. Let's just get inside and find Glenn, okay? No sense losing our heads wandering around in this soup, we'll get our bearings with him and then figure out just what the hell is going on."
She just hoped wherever her brother was he was keeping his own head, it may have been half filled with air, but she kind of liked it where it was, securely on his shoulders.
The Cajun Dialect
Jongler – To think, to reflect thoughtfully.