AN: Here's another little chapter.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol insisted on riding in the truck with Merle while Daryl followed behind them in her truck. Daryl wasn't entirely comfortable with the arrangement, but he'd given in when she'd presented the argument to him that he would get an escape from their mechanical ward that was either short circuiting or had some legitimate electronic need that they neither had the ability nor the presence of mind to solve at the moment.
"Can't ya cut that damn thing off?" Merle asked, annoyed with the crying doll.
Carol fidgeted with the doll, offering it the bottle that she'd crammed into her pocket on the way out the door. That quieted the thing for a moment, but it was going to prove annoying anyway because if you stopped feeding their fake child…who at the moment they were simply calling Baby…before a certain amount of time had passed, then it would stop crying only to resume the act again a few moments later. You had to wait for the cooing sound that signaled the doll was satisfied and then you were just buying yourself some time since it would soon start crying again because it wanted to be burped…but if you tried to burp it before it cried then it wouldn't do anything to the doll.
It wasn't the best time to have to deal with the thing, but Carol felt like it didn't bode well for their future if they ignored the doll and its programmed needs, so she tried to make sure that they actually did what they were supposed to do and cared for thing.
After all, Lil' Bit was bound to be far more demanding when she was outside of Carol's womb and not as easily transported and cared for as she currently was.
"It'll be quiet for at least twenty minutes," Carol said, making sure not to move the bottle away for fear of having to restart the feeding process with the doll.
Merle growled a little. He was looking straight ahead with some intensity and Carol knew that he was trying to work through all that had happened and exactly what might happen from here out.
"What are you going to do when we get to Rick's?" Carol asked.
Merle glanced at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road.
"Me?" He asked. "What the hell am I s'posed ta do?"
Carol sighed.
"You've got to go in there, Merle," Carol said. "You're going to have to be the one to tell Andrea to come home."
"How ya figure that?" Merle asked.
"Do you care about Andrea?" Carol asked.
She figured she had nothing to lose at this point. She wasn't entirely over her flu. She was tired, she was cranky, and she was caring for a mechanical demon child that was making her consider again what she'd told Daryl about their own child not coming with a return policy. She wasn't in the mood to sugar coat things with Merle Dixon.
Merle grunted, but didn't respond with words.
"This is a conversation, Merle," Carol said, a little annoyed. "Not a barnyard. I asked you a question."
Merle eyed her and then turned back to face the road. Carol realized he wasn't going to answer her, but his reasoning wasn't entirely clear. It could be that Merle wasn't going to answer her because he didn't know the answer. It could be that he wasn't going to answer because he was afraid of the answer. It could also be that he wasn't going to answer simply because he was Merle.
Carol figured he better take what he could get with Andrea because she already thought the woman had to be on some mission from God to put up with the man as much as she did.
"This is show time, Merle," Carol said, realizing that if he wasn't going to respond to her then she was just going to have to have the conversation all on her own. "It's time to make decisions, and what you decide tonight…what you decide by the time we get to Rick Grimes' house…you better make damn good and sure that it's the decision you want to make because I don't think there's any going back from this one."
Carol waited a moment, giving Merle time to respond if he wanted to throw anything into the mix, but the man made no effort to speak.
"Are you going in there or am I? Because if you're not going, I'll go…but it really should be you…" Carol continued.
"Lemme ask ya somethin'," Merle said, rubbing at his face with the hand not on the steering wheel. "Why don't this piss ya off none?"
Carol considered the question.
When she'd been married to Ed, he'd done everything in his power to isolate her. She didn't have friends…even if he'd allowed it, who would have stood by her through everything with him? And it had been even worse when her parents had died and Ed had finally gotten her as isolated as he wanted her. Her entire life was the nightmare that he'd constructed for her…day in and day out. She'd almost felt like she'd been living on a deserted island, tossing bottles filled with messages into the sea, nothing getting in and nothing ever really getting out.
And then she'd broken free from Ed…but her baggage was still there. It would always be there, she assumed, at least to a point. In life you can't just drop off the stuff you no longer want, the baggage from your past, at the Goodwill when you're ready to be done with it. You can cram it down, in the inner closets and attics you have. You can tuck it away where you don't have to look at it every day and you don't have to think about it every hour, but you can't get rid of it. It's always there, out of sight, but never gone.
And baggage in tow she'd found friends, and a husband…she'd found her family. And she didn't believe for a minute that they were perfect, but neither was she. And they all came with their boxes and their bags, whether they were designer luggage or grocery store bags held together with duct tape, crashing into her life.
Yet for all the bags they brought with them, she'd realized that that's all that it was. It was their baggage, and they were no more capable of getting rid of it than she was of getting rid of her own.
Michonne hid behind her money. Checkbooks and padded bank accounts did a world of good for making baggage look prettier than it was, but the facts were the facts. She was a single mother of two small children. She was jaded at times and controlling. She was hurt by the thought that she could buy people's attention…their temporary acceptance…but she couldn't buy what she wanted the most and that was security that they would be there…that they wouldn't leave the way that Dean had when something shinier and more captivating for their attention came along.
Daryl didn't believe that he was worthy of anyone's love and as a result he'd never bothered to even try to earn it. He'd never bothered to give his own out, too afraid that he would fall into the trap of loving someone who would only wake up one day and realize that they didn't love him back. He'd kept himself back, protected from the world, because he didn't believe that he could ever be good enough for anyone. As a result, he was learning…and he was still learning…how to love and how to accept being loved, and for someone like Daryl, they were equally difficult tasks.
Merle had walked a similar road to Daryl's, but Carol suspected it had been even rockier and harder to navigate. Daryl had one thing in life that Merle lacked. Daryl had Merle…but Merle had walked alone before Daryl had come along, and then he had carried Daryl until he was old enough to find his footing. Merle thought, or at least he pretended to think, that he was incapable of love and he didn't want love out of life. Really, Carol suspected that he was just afraid. He was afraid, perhaps, that he couldn't love…or that he'd fail at it…and like Daryl, that he wouldn't be loved.
And then there was Andrea. Like the others, Andrea had walked her own rocky path. Carol suspected that the woman had always felt unloved and therefore she had decided, as well, that she didn't need love. Men couldn't offer her love…and therefore she took from them what they could offer. They could offer her sex, if she wanted it, or they could offer her money when she needed it. She didn't expect them to offer her love and so that didn't even fit into the equation.
Yet, somehow, they'd all come crashing together in a giant head on collision…everyone's bags ripped open bit by bit and all their contents scattered about. One by one they'd gone around, trying to repack their bags, trying to hide away everything that was being shown to everyone around them, and slowly they were picking up their things…but they were also picking up each other's things. And they were helping each other get their bags put back together and get them under control.
For as imperfect and as damaged as all the souls in her life may be when looked at under a microscope, Carol had never felt as loved or as accepted as she did with the other people around her. Their strict but silent policy of seeing what each other had but not mentioning it…not judging for it…made it easier to breathe around them and made it easier to accept the things that were part of you and part of your past but weren't things that you wanted to wave around in public.
So she wasn't pissed at Andrea about something that had happened in her past. Ed had been a cheater. She had known almost since she married him that he was out with other women. Fragrance is something that lingers long after wet rags have washed off rouge and lipstick, and the smell of other women was a smell she had known almost as well as she had known Ed's smell. It had almost become, in fact, the smell that she'd associated with Ed.
And Carol had already known that Andrea had sex with Ed. She hadn't seen it with her own eyes, but she knew the rumors…and she knew Ed…and though she didn't believe that Andrea was the stuff of legends like the town had made her out to be, she'd also known that Andrea was no vestal virgin.
But when Carol had been married to Ed, it hadn't taken too long before the fact that he cheated stopped hurting her feelings. Of all the things he did to her, cheating on her was one of the things that hurt her the least actually. At least while he was cheating, he wasn't bothering her…he was some other woman's problem.
So all in all, she didn't see any reason to feel angry that Andrea had slept with Ed for money. If anything, she hoped that the money had helped Andrea…that it had alleviated some problem in her life, at least temporarily. Carol wasn't angry about it, though, and she wasn't going to hold it against Andrea in any way. The Andrea that had slept with Ed was no more the Andrea that she knew now than Carol was the woman who had been Ed's wife, bloody and bruised and alone on a deserted island.
The past was something it was simply better to tip your head at and acknowledge, and then leave it right where it was.
"There's no reason for it to piss me off," Carol said. "Andrea didn't do anything to hurt me…it didn't hurt me then and it doesn't hurt me now. We all have things in our past that we're not proud of. Don't you, Merle?"
Merle grunted something.
"The big question here, Merle, is can you forgive Andrea her past?" Carol asked.
Merle was quiet as he turned into the residential neighborhood where the Grimes family lived. It was a really nice neighborhood…nicer than the one Carol and Daryl lived in now even. It was much more well to do.
Merle chuckled, something like a low growl following it. He knocked his knuckle against the window of the truck somewhat nervously.
"Ya know…" Merle said. "I knowed it…I mean she didn't never lie 'bout it…she ain't never said she weren't gettin' 'round town…but it's a helluva lot different ta have it right there in front of ya."
"Andrea hasn't been with another man since you moved to town," Carol said. She knew it to be fact. She'd had the conversation with Andrea in some terms when they'd discussed what was happening, or rather what wasn't happening with Axel. "What about you, Merle? If Andrea was to revisit all the places you'd lived, would she find an "Ed" there…or rather an "Edna"?"
Merle made the growling noise again and shifted a little, slowing his speed. Carol knew that he was thinking things through and the proximity of the house would make things worse. Arriving at the house would mean that Merle had to make some kind of decision. It would mean that Merle would have to have answers to some of these questions.
When he didn't respond verbally, Carol decided to push a little farther.
"How many women have you been with in Sweet Junction?" Carol asked.
Merle looked at her out of the corner of his eye and shifted once more. Carol kept herself from smiling. He wouldn't want to answer any of these questions and she thought that perhaps it was because his answers might go against the image he liked to paint of himself…or maybe he was simply uncomfortable because answering them for himself was showing him things about himself that he hadn't exactly reveled in thinking about.
Merle didn't answer Carol, though. He directed the truck toward the Grimes' house and pulled into the driveway. Carol didn't know what his answer was going to be…or what was going to happen…but she was prepared for whatever it was.
If Merle was a man and was willing to step up and be one, then she'd let him go in. She'd let him get Andrea…admit to her that he could put her past behind her…and Carol knew that it would be a big step in their relationship.
If, however, Merle couldn't do that, then Carol also knew that it would seal the deal between the two of them. If he couldn't put this in the past where it belonged, now that the lid was ripped off the Pandora's Box, then Andrea wouldn't go back to him. If that was the case, though, Carol had full intent of getting out the truck and going in the house after Andrea. She couldn't soothe her by promising that Merle would forgive her and that he could overlook her past, but at the very least she could offer her the promise that she had already forgiven her, and that her friendship wasn't something so cheap that it could be broken by something as ridiculous as this.
Carol glanced in the mirror and saw that Daryl was parked behind them on the street and already out of his truck, walking toward them. She cast one final glance in Merle's direction and got out, still waiting for the satisfied squeal of the doll. Merle opened his door as well and joined her and Daryl at the front of the truck.
"Well?" Daryl asked, his hands shoved down in his pockets.
Carol looked to Merle.
"Me or you?" She asked. She knew that Daryl would want to know what had happened…he'd want reassurance that Merle hadn't said or done anything that bothered her in the truck. And she would tell Daryl everything when they were alone. For the moment, though, he didn't need to know that she'd basically told Merle it was time to either get his shit together or give it up completely.
Merle sighed and shifted his weight.
"I'll be back…" he said.
Carol smiled at him, hoping that the smile was reassuring. She wasn't sure how Merle felt about the whole idea that Andrea was the scarlet woman of Sweet Junction, and she wasn't sure how he was going to have to deal with that in his own mind, but she was relieved that he was making a move right now to say that it didn't matter to him. He was making a move to show that for him, that wasn't going to be what defined Andrea, and it wasn't going to be something that changed their relationship…whatever that was and whatever it was becoming.
Carol pushed at Merle gently and he started toward the house, alone, to talk to Rick Grimes and hopefully gain access to the house and come back with Andrea. They would wait outside for him, unless of course he needed them for something.
Daryl leaned against the truck and Carol, tired of the doll, thrust it at him.
"What'cha want me ta do with it?" Daryl asked, taking the doll and the bottle and crinkling his nose at it.
"It's your kid," Carol said. "Feed it…still hasn't made the cooing noise."
"That's 'cause it's possessed…" Daryl offered.
Carol chuckled.
"Are you going to say that about Lil' Bit?" She asked.
Daryl sucked his teeth.
"If she acts as fool as this thing does I might," Daryl said. "Damn lil' fucker made me change it's stupid diaper three times this mornin' just ta make it shut up…think it's fuckin' batteries is dyin' or somethin'."
Carol chuckled again and shook her head.
"They're not dying fast enough…" she said. "Are we going to be terrible parents?"
Daryl chuckled at that.
"Hell…I think the damn thing's possessed an' ya can't wait for it ta die 'cause it's so damn annoyin'…but we still takin' care of it…so I reckon we gon' be alright as far as parents go," Daryl offered.
He was quiet a moment and then the doll made the sound that Carol had been trying to elicit from it since they left the house. Daryl sighed an audible sigh and Carol rubbed at her arms, the cold starting to bite through the coat she was wearing.
"What'cha reckon Merle's gonna say ta Andrea?" Daryl asked.
Carol looked at him, illuminated by the driveway light of the house. She shrugged a little.
"I don't know…" she said.
"Ya know, Merle ain't no damn poet," Daryl said. "He might fuck this up royally."
Carol chuckled and moved beside him, nudging her body against his until he wrapped one of his arms around her and pulled her tighter to him.
"He might…" Carol said. "But somehow I have the feeling that whatever it is that Merle decides to say…"
Carol stopped. She wasn't sure that she would have believed herself if she'd uttered these words before, and so she wanted to chew them over again for a moment and make sure she still believed them. She realized, though, that she did, and just the thought made her smile.
"Whatever he says," Carol said after a second, "I think it'll be just what Andrea needs to hear right now."
Daryl grunted something and hugged Carol tighter to him. He kissed the side of her face and she snuggled into him, watching the people inside the house as Lori and Rick Grimes spoke with Merle. She didn't know what he would say, that was true…and part of her doubted that Merle even knew what he was going to say, but that wasn't going to be what was important.
Merle had come…and after everything, she though that would speak louder to Andrea than any of the fumbling words the eldest Dixon brother might manage to muster up.
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AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope it sounded alright. I'm doing my best, but the brain is scrambled a little.
For those of you who read my other things, have no fear. I promise that I've abandoned nothing, but this week has been ridiculous and I've still got tomorrow to get through before there's any kind of a break (and it'll be a short one). Therefore I simply haven't gotten as much written as I normally would because my brain just hasn't cooperated.