Chapter Sixty

A/n: I'm so sorry I didn't post yesterday. I had an eye appointment and they had to dilate my eyes. That crap is miserable! There's nothing worse for a writer/reader/editor than being unable to see the words on the screen. But I'm all better now, so here is an update for you wonderful people :D

Merle Dixon frowned into his pillow, his hand creeping across the sheets in search of his woman. His woman. A smile curled up at the corners of his wide mouth as he thought of Martine. He and Daryl had grown up with her and her brothers inasmuch as they could with Jackson Dixon for a father. They'd played together, fought together – Gawd knew that girl could brawl with the best of them – discovered their raging hormones and all sorts of vices to share together. Why had he never seen she was the one woman who could tame him? Maybe he had seen and that's why he'd never allowed himself to take her seriously. She was that special blend of sweet and sassy with a take-no-shit attitude he'd been missing in his life.

He'd wasted so much time chasing one woman after another to and from his bed, living the high life, or so he'd believed, when it was her he needed so badly to bring balance to his damaged soul. It had taken an apocalypse and the thought he'd lost her there that day at the bunker to make him see. Much like it had taken Mouse to break through the walls his brother had erected around his heart. Now it was positively nauseating to see those two in the same room together. Might catch some of those feelings they were constantly bandying about.

He scowled darkly when his hand encountered only cool sheets. He flipped over onto his back and blinked into the dimness of their bedroom, the first rays of dawn peeking from behind the lace curtains Marty had hung in the windows. "Sugar?" he called softly. The walls were paper thin in their building and he didn't want to disturb Martinez on the one side of them and Abe and Rosita on the other. "Sugar, where are y'?"

It was then the faint sound of her retching filtered in from the bathroom. He yanked his jeans up, only bothering with the zipper as his feet pounded down the hall to the bathroom next to the spare bedroom. He winced as he slung the door open to see her heaving up the contents of her stomach. Merle dropped to his knees beside her, gathering up her long ebony hair in his fist. Marty sagged limply back against his chest as she flushed the toilet.

"Aw, darlin', what's wrong with y'?" he asked, his voice quavering a bit as he held her gently, her petite form trembling against him.

"I would think it was obvious, Merle." She shot him a glare before her face crumbled and she buried her face against his chest. She whimpered pitifully and swallowed, trying her best to stop her churning stomach from another revolt. "Musta been somethin' I ate. Y' know how iffy it can be jus' tryin' t' get a decent meal around this place."

Merle could feel the first faint stirrings of panic tightening his chest, which wasn't like him at all. He was the more level-headed of the brothers. It was Daryl who barreled blindly into things, letting his temper goad him into trouble. At least before he'd found Carol. Mouse had a way of soothing his inner beast. But this was all new territory for Merle. Something was wrong with his woman … something he couldn't shoot or stab or drop off a cliff to eliminate the threat … and for the first time in his life, he was truly afraid.

"How long's this shit been goin' on?"

Marty shrugged. "I dunno. Couple days? A week?"

"A week!?" he shrieked, his voice high-pitched enough to have her looking at him worriedly. He was seconds away from a full-blown panic attack as he thought back over the last week. His woman had been more tired than usual, but with their active schedules, it was to be expected. She'd been sleeping more, and her appetite hadn't been all that great, but he'd blown it off, thinking she was letting her fears for their family affect her physically. If it had progressed to where she was pitching her guts up every morning, maybe it was more serious than he'd originally thought. His arms tightened reflexively around her as she moved to get off his lap. "Y' need t' see th' doc."

Marty pinched his side, gaining her release. She pulled herself up and ran some cool water into a cup to rinse her mouth out. "Would y' stop, Dixon? Y' ever think I might be tired? We've been runnin' ourselves ragged since we got here. That on top o' somethin' bad I ate, an' here we are. I'll be fine." She pushed her hair back away from her face and ignored the paleness of her usual peaches and cream skin. For the umpteenth time, she told herself it was nothing. She'd never been keen on doctors before the turn, and now was no different. "I jus' need some sleep, s'all."

His breathing hitched, his heart thundered, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as she reached for her toothbrush. "You … woman! Y' health ain't nothin' t' be foolin' around with!"

Marty met his eyes in the mirror and continued to clean her teeth, her eyes narrowing obstinately. "Merle, prease," she mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste. "I'll be frine. Y' need t' cralm th' fruck down."

Merle opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling like a damn fish flopping around on the dock. Finally, he dragged some much-needed oxygen into his lungs and straightened his shoulders with newfound determination. Without a word, he stalked out of the bathroom and returned to their room. He shoved his feet into his boots as he was pulling a t-shirt over his head. He barely remembered to button his pants and yank on his leather jacket before grabbing the thick down duvet off the bed and marching back to the bathroom.

Marty had just dried her face on a hand towel and switched off the light when she was enveloped in warmth and lifted off her feet. She fought her arm out of the blanket and shoved it out of her face. "What th' hell are y' doin', Merle!?" she screeched, wriggling to free herself.

"Takin' y' t' th' damn doc, woman! Y' can shout th' whole o' Woodbury down for all I care, but y' goin'!" He struggled with the door as she closed her eyes, fighting off another wave of dizziness. Then he was bouncing her hurriedly down the stairs and into the deserted street.

She clung to his broad shoulders despite her anger, terrified he'd drop her. "Merle … baby, please! This isn't necessary. I toldja it's jus' somethin' I ate or a bug goin' around." Which was the worst thing she could have said at that point.

"A bug?! What if it's catchin'?" he asked in a horrified whisper as he entered the clinic. "What if everybody gets this crap? We'll have a fuckin' epidemic on our hands!"

Marty groaned and pulled the blanket up over her head. There was no reasoning with him when he got like that. She simply resigned herself to the horrid thought of a medical exam and shut up. She didn't even emerge from her cocoon when the nurse practitioner, who helped Dr. Stevens, rushed out to greet them.

"Mr. Dixon! Who –"

"M' woman … she's sick. Need y' t' help her, Miss Linda," Merle cut her off, dredging up some manners for the little strawberry blonde nurse in her fifties who'd never been anything but nice to them.

"You neanderthal," Marty huffed from beneath the blanket.

The woman smiled indulgently at Merle and motioned for him to follow her to one of the makeshift exam rooms. "Everything is going to be fine, Mr. Dixon. Can you tell me what symptoms she's presenting?" she asked as he laid Martine down on the table.

"Toldja, Miss Linda … call me Merle."

"Out! If I gotta be subjected t' an exam, you can wait outside," Marty snapped, cutting him off.

"But, Sugar!"

"Don't patronize me, Dixon. Now, git!"

Linda smiled patiently at him and rested a hand on his arm as she led him to the door. "Martine seems rather agitated. Perhaps it would be best if you just had a seat out in the waiting room. It shouldn't take long and then you can come right back in."

Merle shot a pained look over his shoulder to where Marty was staring sightlessly at the opposite wall. He could tell by her posture she was angry, but also frightened. He needed to be with her, to hold her hand and reassure her that everything would be alright. Gawd, what was happening to him? "What if she needs me? She ain't much on doctorin'."

"I promise if she does, I'll come get you." Linda patted him on the shoulder. "Not to worry, Mr. Dixon, I'll take good care of her."

Marty stared down at her hands where they fidgeted with a loose thread on the blanket she was still wrapped in as Linda shut the door on Merle. "I'm sorry we disturbed y' so early this mornin'. I'm sure it's nothin' an' Merle is jus' overreactin'."

Linda smiled gently. She'd always liked the brash redneck woman who had a gentle side she liked to keep hidden. "Well, we're going to find out for sure, ok? Don't worry, Martine. Now … can you tell me what seems to be the trouble?"

Marty sighed and glanced at the woman, pushing down her fears as she met Linda's kind hazel eyes. It was so hard for her to trust. The Dixon brothers – now that her own family had perished – were where she drew the line. Yet, something about this woman encouraged her to take a chance. "I dunno. Been tired a lot lately, ain't had much of an appetite either. Last couple days I been nauseated."

"Any vomiting?"

"Yeah, that's what freaked Merle out this mornin'," she grumbled. "I think I mighta ate somethin' bad. Or it could be stress from the job. Merle says I tend t' stretch myself too thin."

"It's possible," Linda offered, making several notations on the chart she'd started for Marty. "When was your last cycle?"

Martine sucked in a sharp breath as a tremor of fear tripped up her spine. Her lip trembled as the nurse looked up at her expectantly. "I … uh … what?" she stammered, her heart beginning to race. Her mind shut down for a moment and everything was calm. All about two milliseconds before her entire world came crashing down around her feet. The nurse – bless her for even being up at that hour – was oblivious to Marty's inner turmoil. The word No kept repeating through her mind with the speed of an Amtrak. What am I goin' t' do with a baby? She groaned. What's Merle gonna say? Is he even gonna want me t' have it?

"Marty, dear? Did you hear me?" Linda asked, concern furrowing her brow.

"Uh … yeah. 'Bout six weeks ago, maybe?" she answered listlessly. She remembered it clearly, certain it had been around the time she, Merle and Caesar had visited Daryl at the farm. Merle had wrapped her up in a blanket and pulled her onto his lap in the back of the jeep because she'd felt as if every muscle in her body were splintering apart. As much as she suffered with her periods, how could she just not notice when one didn't show up? Maybe … Oh, God, please! Maybe, her lack of cycle was due to poor nutrition or sleep deprivation. It had been known to happen before, she tried to convince herself.

Linda asked her more questions, constantly making notes on the chart and then took her vitals. She left Marty alone for just a moment to go to the supply cabinet, coming back with a home pregnancy test. Marty pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to quell the onslaught of panicked tears which stung her eyes, but she wasn't quite quick enough to stifle the choked sob which burst past her lips. "Oh, honey, don't cry. You're a healthy woman in her thirties. And bunking with that man of yours … well, these things are bound to happen." Martine buried her face against the woman's shoulder and let the tears flow. "Don't cry, sweetheart. There's no need for tears until you take the test. And then I don't know what you're worried about. Merle Dixon doesn't look the type who would turn his back on the woman he loves or his unborn child."

Marty sniffled and took the tissue Linda offered. "Of course, not. Family means everythin' t' Merle," she mumbled quietly.

"There's a restroom at the end of the hall you can use, Martine. Why don't you go on and take that test while I have a few words with your husband?"

"He's not –"

"Oh, I know, dear, but who's to say that doesn't change in the foreseeable future?" Linda said with a warm smile. Marty couldn't help but feel a warm glow settle in her chest at the thought of Merle Dixon being hers in such a permanent way.

"Please, don't tell 'im anythin'."

Linda patted her hand reassuringly. "That's for you to decide. I wouldn't want to break confidence, now would I?"

Marty nodded to Merle as she stepped out of the room, hiding the box in the folds of her flannel pajama top as she trekked down the hall to use the bathroom. She leaned back against the door, anxious tears streaming over her face as she listened to the worry in Merle's voice as he questioned the nurse practitioner. Was she going to be alright? What was wrong with her? He told the woman he'd do anything, search anywhere – and the unspoken kill anything – to get Marty whatever it was she needed. If she'd ever doubted his love for her before, she didn't now. She stared down at the box in her hand as visions of a little one with her ebony hair and Merle's crystal blue eyes flitted across her mind's eye.

She bit her lip, praying she could keep quiet. She didn't need Merle to hear her crying. Why now?! Things were so precarious for them in their bid for Woodbury. One little misstep and they could lose everything. If she were pregnant … Oh, gawd, what might Blake do if he found out? She wouldn't put anything past that man. But she wasn't going to find out if she remained frozen against the door. One way or the other, she had to know.

Half an hour later, Merle had her comfortably entrenched in a mound of pillows and blankets on the sofa in their apartment with strict orders for her not to move. She felt as if she were in shock. A baby. A little Dixon. The littlest Dixon, she thought, her mind in a fugue. A tiny little person wrought from the love she shared with Merle. She winced as she listened to him putter about the kitchen fixing her something to drink. Linda had tried to soothe her fears, and as much as Marty appreciated her efforts, the woman had no idea the true scope of danger this baby was in. She was Martine Comeaux. She was no shrinking violet … not by a long shot. Blake would never lay a hand on her child, on Merle's son. She didn't care what she had to do, but she would protect him.

Marty smiled up at Merle as he dropped down to sit beside her on the sofa. "Well, look at y'," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice far from what she was feeling. "Bein' all domestic. Who woulda thought?"

Dixon snorted. "Jus' tea, Sugar. Miss Linda said it might help settle y' stomach." He set the cup in her hands, his own clenching on his lap. "Y' gonna tell me now what she had t' say, or am I gonna have t' guess?"

She sipped carefully at the herbal tea, giving herself time to get her thoughts together. "Everything's jus' fine. Apparently, whatever it was that disagreed with me is workin' it's way outta m' system. I'll be good as new by the weekend," she lied, the words bitter on her tongue. She just couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. It would shift his focus, and they were too close to success to have it all fall apart now. Martine knew him too well. He would pack her up and run to join up with their family. It would begin a war between their group and Woodbury, and not all of them would survive it.

"Thank Gawd!" he huffed, his entire body seeming to shake with relief. He took the cup from her and set it down on the coffee table before pulling her into his arms. "I'll jus' have t' make sure y' get better food t' eat. I'll take Paco an' Ty an' see if we cain't get y' some fresh meat t' go with all those vegetables growin' on th' back five. Karen an' some o' her ladies were crowin' th' other day 'bout a new crop o' broccoli an' spinach."

Marty bit her lip as she hid her face against his chest. "Fresh produce is always good. See if'n y' can get me some potatoes. What I wouldn't do for some fresh red potatoes," she mumbled, trying to sound as normal as possible.

Merle stroked a big weathered hand over her silky locks and pressed a kiss to her brow. "Y' scared me, woman. I ain't never felt so helpless."

She leaned back as far as he'd let her and stared up into his tortured gaze. "I'll be ok. It's gonna take a lot more than a little food poisonin' t' get th' best o' me. Y' should know that." Her hands cradled his stubbled jaw as she drew him closer, her lips brushing his in a sweet kiss. "I'm not gonna leave y', Merle. Long as I draw breath, as long as y' want me … I'm yours."

"Y' deserve better'n me, Martine."

She pulled him closer, reveling in the way he breathed her in as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I deserve th' man I love. It don't matter who we were before th' world went t' hell, Merle. I wasn't no prize neither. What matters is who we are now. That we were able t' find love in th' middle o' this crap was a miracle from God, an' I ain't one t' thumb m' nose up at th' almighty." She drew in a shuddering breath and held on. "We're gonna make it, baby … an' we're gonna be happy. Jus' y' wait."

It was a vow she set in stone.

*.*.*

Carol shivered herself to wakefulness, missing her husband's warmth in the stillness of predawn. She was finding herself wishing they could have brought the generator from the colonial, for the prison was nothing better than a tomb. Its concrete walls held onto the chill iciness of winter, and no number of blankets seemed able to chase away the cold from her bones. She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she pulled on another pair of socks and wrapped the quilt about her shoulders. The thought of starting breakfast held no appeal for her, but she knew it wouldn't be long before the group began to rouse themselves, anxious to start the new day.

Her gaze wandered to the cell Sophia had chosen the night before only to find Daryl standing there at the barred door, watching their daughter sleep with a troubled knit to his brow. She knew that look all too well. He was feeling guilty. Carol crept from their bed there on the perch and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his nape.

Daryl smiled softly as her warmth pressed into his back. "Did I wake you?"

"No, it seems my internal clock has become synced with yours," she mumbled around a yawn. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Lil' bit. Gonna take time t' get used t' this place."

"And you were worried."

Daryl sighed and nodded. "Yeah. I know y' prob'ly think I'm bein' overprotective, but I got m' reasons, Carol. Th' world ain't how it used t' be where they could be kids. They're havin' t' grow up so damn fast, an' I don't want her runnin' headlong into somethin' she ain't ready for."

Carol tugged on his hand, pulling him away from the cell so he wouldn't wake the girls. "I think you're overprotective because you love her, Daryl, and that's not a bad thing. How can you not be with the dead rising up and walking the earth? You chose us. You chose to be her father without reservation, and put your whole heart into it. It's more than Ed ever did for her. You've taught her what it is like to have a father's love, and I thank God every day we found you. Don't feel guilty for making her upset."

Daryl ducked his head. "Don't like it when she's mad at me."

She grinned. "Oh, Pookie, it's not going to be the last time, I assure you. You want to tell me why you think you need to watch Carl and Sophia so closely? They haven't even hit their teen years yet."

He raised his gaze to hers, his eyes filled with an inner turmoil he didn't know how to express. He wanted to break something over the boy's head and at the same time, lock his daughter in a cell until she was thirty. "That ain't no normal friendship," he said finally. "I know y' an' Olive Oyl's always goin' on about how they have a strong bond an' y' think it's cute an' shit, but it's not! Y' need t' watch 'em, Carol. Watch th' way they move around each other. Watch th' way he calculates his every action … t' protect her. She's th' same way with him. Like they're two halves o' th' same whole."

"Daryl –"

"I mean it!" he hissed, fighting to keep his voice lowered so he wouldn't disturb their sleeping family.

Carol wanted to scoff. The children were far too young to even think about what Daryl was suggesting, but she wouldn't belittle his opinion. "Daryl, how do you know? They could grow up side by side and never develop stronger feelings for one another. They could remain friends, find love with other people. They're twelve."

"How do I know?" he whispered, cradling her face in his warm palms. "Because I looked at you th' same way before I realized how much I love y'." He pressed his brow to hers and drew in a shuddering breath. "I like Carl. He's a good kid, got a smart head on his shoulders, an' I know he can protect her. As much as I hate t' admit it, if he follows th' path he's on, I wouldn't mind callin' him fam'ly. Jus' not for 'bout five years or so."

Carol chuckled lowly and leaned up to kiss him. "I'm going to remind you of this conversation one day."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Jus' watch them, Carol."

"I will. I promise. And in the meantime, you need to talk to Sophia. I don't want you to let anger fester between the two of you."

He sighed. "I need t' get outta here for a while, before Rick gets ready t' start explorin' this place. Think I might go huntin' … take Soph with me."

Carol nodded. "I think that's a splendid idea."

*.*.*

Lori covered her mouth, stifling a yawn as she entered the common room to find Carol stirring the pot containing their morning meal. Oatmeal … again, she thought with a groan. She really missed the farm where they'd had a bit of variety in their diets. "Hey, Carol. You get any sleep after the drama last night, or did Papa Dixon rant to you all night?"

Carol snorted and shot a grin towards her friend. She filled a glass with water and stirred in a packet of protein powder the Marines had added to the stores. "Daryl was rather quiet last night, actually. He's still trying to get the hang of this parenting thing."

The brunette grimaced as she gulped down the chalky drink. "Did you tell him it's not an exact science? We've been mothers since the day our kids were born, and we still haven't figured it all out. Probably never will. All we can do is use our best instincts and hope our children fare better in this world than we have up to this point."

Carol ladled up two bowls of the porridge and sat down across the table from Lori. "I tried to tell him that, but … " she sighed heavily, "Daryl wants to be perfect. It's not like he had great role models growing up. He's scared he's going to screw up, and no matter how many times I try to reassure him, it doesn't seem to help."

Lori's nose wrinkled in disgust as she tasted the bland concoction in her bowl. "He's done wonders with the kids. It's not always going to be sunshine and rainbows. There are going to be arguments, fights, a good case of the cold shoulder where she won't want to speak to him for days … he can't take it personally."

"He will, though. He's a very sensitive man."

"Where are they anyway? I haven't seen the kids or Daryl this morning."

Carol pinched the bridge of her nose as she swirled her spoon in her bowl, contemplating whether or not she was hungry enough for another morning of bland oats. "Daryl took Sophia hunting with him. He needed time outside the fences. I suggested he take our daughter with him to work out their issues." She pointed to the open door leading out into the courtyard with her spoon. "Carl's out there sitting on the picnic table sulking because he wasn't invited along."

Lori's hand rose to cover her heart as she leaned over far enough to see out the door. Her baby boy looked utterly dejected. "Aww, he looks crushed."

Carol reached over and squeezed Lori's free hand. "Daryl didn't leave him behind because of what happened last night. He just thought it would be better to talk to Sophia alone. You know how Daryl feels about Carl. I tried to explain that to him when he came through the kitchen this morning, but he didn't feel like talking about it."

The brunette rose quickly from her seat at the table and cleaned her bowl. She refilled it from the pot and shot Carol a smile of thanks. "Maybe he'll want to talk it over with me," she suggested hesitantly. Carl hadn't been much for sharing his feelings with her lately, but she could hope.

"That's a great idea," Carol nodded.

Carl looked up as she approached, his eyes filled with a wealth of sadness no mother ever wanted to see in her child's gaze. When he saw it was her, he dropped his chin back into his palm. "Hi, Mom."

"Morning, baby. How'd you sleep?":

He snorted a bitter laugh. "Seriously, Mom?" He was still embarrassed over the scene Daryl had caused last night when he'd blown everything out of proportion about Carl bunking with Sophia.

"Come on. It wasn't that bad." She took a seat next to him on the table top and pressed the bowl into his hands.

"Daryl hates me," Carl groaned.

"Daryl doesn't hate you."

Carl looked up at her from beneath his deeply furrowed brows. "He thinks I'm out to get into Sophia's pants, Mom. Which is the last thing I want, but try telling him that."

"Ah, sweetie, he's new at the whole dad thing. He's just trying really hard to be a good father to Sophia. He's trying to protect her. He does not hate you. Do you think he'd work so hard to teach you things if he hated you?"

The boy shoveled several bites of oatmeal into his mouth, not so much for the taste, but rather to give himself time to think. Finally, he shook his head. "He was really good to me when I rescued Sophia from that man who was trying to take her from us."

Lori dropped her head into her hands and shoved her hair out of her face. "Of course, he was. What you did … there are grown men who wouldn't have gone to such extremes to save a friend. As much as I hate that you were put in that position, you proved how brave you were, baby. You saved Sophia, and Daryl isn't likely to forget that … ever. But I'm more worried with how you are dealing with what you did."

Carl shrugged off her concern. "I did what I had to do, Mom."

"That's not what I asked, Carl, and you know it," she said gently.

"I can't let myself think of it. if I do, I get this pain in my chest and I can't breathe," he hissed, pressing a hand over his breastbone. "But it's not because of what I had to do, Mom. I think of what he would have done to Sophia. I close my eyes and I can see what he would have done to her, and … I'm not a killer! I don't want to kill, Mom, but I won't let anyone hurt her or anyone else in my family if I can help it. It's just who we have to be now."

Lori's heart broke for her son, to see the anguished tears streaming over his freckled cheeks and to hear the pain and determination in his voice. "I'm so sorry you have to grow up in this nightmare, Carl. I don't want this for you. All I want is to protect you and keep you safe … and I can't, can I?"

Carl slid his thin arms around his mother's waist and buried his head against her chest. "We can't be kids anymore, Mom … not if we want to survive. To keep me safe, you teach me, arm me."

Lori's tears fell to mingle with his. "I don't want you to go cold on us, baby, or lose yourself."

"I won't. Sophia … she grounds me." He raised his watery gaze to meet hers. "I've never had a friend like her before. It's not like Daryl thinks, Mom. I'd never touch her like that. It's just … I feel like I can tell her things I can't tell anyone else. Sometimes I can just sit with her without saying anything and I feel like she understands me. Does that make sense?"

She shook her head, her arm around his shoulder tightening. "I do. She's your best friend. It was like that for me and your dad a long time before we ever fell in love. It could be that way for you and Sophia too, but I want you to promise me something. Wait until you're of age and you're sure it's something the both of you want."

Carl nodded, glad to have a conversation with one of his parents which didn't end in an argument. "I will."

Lori looked out over the yard to the break in the trees where Daryl and Sophia emerged, struggling to haul in the large doe they'd bagged. "There's just one more thing you're going to have to think about, son. When you are of age and thinking of marriage and having a family, do you really want Daryl Dixon as your father in law."

Carl groaned. "He might mellow by then."

Lori patted her son on his back. "Keep telling yourself that, dear."

A/n: Well, things just got a bit more complicated for Marty and Merle, and Carl finally had a decent conversation with his mother :D Hope you all liked it. If you did, please let me know! Thanks all who are reading!