Chapter Sixty-Seven

"Linda!" Marty barked as she burst through the door of the infirmary, her eyes searching for the nurse. She was relieved to see the woman restocking the dispensary. "Who is on duty today? Dr. S or Dr. Stevens?"

Marty directed Tyreese to lay the new woman on a gurney as she led the boy to another.

"Caleb is on call today," Linda informed her, grabbing up a few blank charts to begin on the new arrivals.

Rosita simply nodded at the woman and left the clinic to fetch the doctor.

Marty took one chart as Linda took the other and smiled at the boy who stared back at her curiously. "What's your name, sugar?"

"Zach," he mumbled, a blush tinting his cheeks to have those piercing jade eyes on him with such rapt attention. "Just Zach. Not much use in last names anymore, is there?" His gaze flickered over to his companion, seeking her approval. Her nod had been so faint, if he hadn't been so familiar with her, he would have missed it.

"A'right, 'just Zach'," Marty teased, "I'm gonna ask y' for some information, get this chart filled out so Miss Linda can give y' a checkup. That ok with you?"

The boy shrugged. "I guess. Will 'Chonne be ok? Her leg's banged up pretty bad."

Marty arched a brow at the woman's hiss. So far, she hadn't been willing to speak to any of them, holding her silence as she observed them warily through dark eyes. Dr. S came in and shut the door behind him, drawing the woman's gaze and making her flinch away, but no words passed her lips.

Caleb picked up on her discomfort immediately and tried to put her at ease. "Just relax. No one here will harm you. I know you must be leery of strangers, but rest assured, you are safe here. I can help you if you let me."

Marty hopped up on the gurney next to Zach and pulled a protein bar from the pocket of her vest. "Hungry?"

"Starving!" he replied, taking the food from her without hesitation.

His companion rolled her eyes and laid back against the pillows. The ginger had weaved a wondrous tale of this town and how they could help them. Her reservations hadn't mattered in the least. She'd come along for Zach's sake, hoping the walled community would be what he needed. He was soft, and it was a wonder he'd survived as long as he had on his own. Perhaps if she allowed these people to help her, she could heal enough to leave on her own. She didn't trust this place for one second, but it might be just what Zach hoped it could be.

She nodded at the doctor and gnashed her teeth as the nurse helped her remove her bloodstained pants before covering her with a sheet. Caleb pulled the white covering away from her leg, just enough to reveal her stitched wounds, trying to preserve her modesty.

"'Chonne, was it?"

"Michonne," she corrected, the first word she'd uttered since she'd been dragged from the house in Griffin, burning with fever and only half-conscious. The antibiotics the Latino girl had given her had helped somewhat to bring the fever down where she was more lucid.

"Did you stitch yourself?"

Michonne shook her head. "No, Zach did. We had a first aid kit, but not much else," she murmured quietly through clenched teeth as the doctor probed her wounds. There were two gashes in her left thigh at least eight inches long, stitched with what looked like fishing line.

"You have an infection," Caleb announced as Linda attached a bag of fluids to the IV she'd inserted into the woman's arm. "Nothing some good antibiotics won't be able to clear up."

Zach grinned. "See, 'Chonne, I told you coming here was a good idea."

Michonne's eyes narrowed. "Yeah … maybe."

*.*.*

Martine closed the door to the examination room behind her, inhaling deeply as she gained the outer office, the files clutched to her chest to put away before she could be relieved of her duty. She should be in bed, but when had a little upset stomach ever stopped her from being in the thick of things? Her whole life had been filled with drama. Hell, the apocalypse was damn near a vacation. She snorted.

"Something amuses you, m'dear?" came that all too charming voice from near the desk only a second before the lamp was clicked on.

Marty's heart plummeted somewhere near the steel toes of her combat boots, her wide eyes guarded as she met Philip's gaze. "No, not at all, Sir," she answered, mentally patting herself on the back when her voice didn't quaver. "Jus' glad our new arrivals weren't hurt so badly they wouldn't recover an' have a chance t' be part of our community. They're settling in if y' wanna go have a chat with 'em."

The bland mask she wore contradicted the thundering tempo of her heart as she continued to hold his gaze. She knew all too well how he liked to assert his authority over newcomers behind a well-meaning façade. She'd witnessed it too many times now, and each interview made her stomach roil with dread.

Her raven's wing brows drew together as he focused that smarmy smile on her, a light chuckle passing his lips as he set a file – which he'd been reading by the light coming in through the window - on the desk. "It seems congratulations are in order."

Marty willed herself not to give anything away, though she was sure he could see the hot flash of anger in her jade green eyes. "You read my file? I suppose you've never heard of doctor/patient confidentiality."

Blake folded his hands over top of the manila folder containing her information and shrugged. "My people – those I've taken in, fed, sheltered – they're my responsibility. Their needs sometimes supersede things such as privacy." He didn't miss the way her eyes flickered over to the door. "Ah, I see. You haven't told Merle yet. And just why is that, I wonder?"

Marty hugged the files to her chest, using them like a shield. That man's poison was heavy and viscous, permeating the air and sapping her strength, but she couldn't allow him to intimidate her. Lifting her chin obstinately, she arched a brow. "Merle has enough t' deal with out there, without worryin' about me." Her shoulders pulled into a nonchalant shrug as she pushed away from the door and moved to the filing cabinet, setting the files on top in case Linda needed them later. "Y' know how it is on th' other side of our walls, Mr. Blake. He doesn't need th' distraction."

Philip rose to his feet and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. It was all she could do to suppress the shudder trying to force its way up her spine. "You're a good woman, Martine. Merle's lucky to have you. We'll have to begin looking for your replacement on his team. Can't have you going out there any longer in your … delicate condition."

"Of course," she agreed, resting a protective hand over her belly. Over m' dead body, y' fucker! There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she'd let Merle leave through those gates without her to watch his back.

Blake smiled widely at her seeming acceptance. "Well, I won't keep you. I trust you and Karen can find suitable accommodations for the prospective new members of our community?"

"I'll get right on that, Sir."

She didn't wait. The moment he rounded the desk and disappeared into the examination room, Marty sprinted for the door, throwing it open only to slam head first into Merle's broad chest. She didn't need to look up to know who it was, his familiar scent assaulting her senses as his arms closed around her.

His hands stroked over her hair, her back, and she squinched her eyes tightly closed, battling the tears behind her closed lids. She couldn't do this now … not now. They were too close. "Hey, sugar," he growled sweetly against the shell of her ear as her arms banded around his waist. "Y' a'right? Did those new people say somethin' t' y'?"

"Naw … nothin' like that," she replied, knowing he could see through the sunny smile she turned his way. "Jus' … jus' need some air, I s'pose. Wanna go for a walk?"

Concern over her obvious upset had taken priority over the panic he'd been fighting since Abraham's crew had returned from their run, but it all came rushing back to the fore. Just as he could see through her mask, Marty was well-versed in seeing through his own. He needed to speak with the newcomers, find out if they'd seen his family, talked to them, but his woman was clearly upset, and she had to come first. "Yeah … c'mon." His body vibrated with restless energy as he led her down an alley, the walls covered in overgrown ivy and wisteria leading to a little courtyard beyond. She took a seat on a bench, her eyes taking him in as he began to pace before her.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly, her voice soft so it wouldn't carry. There was no telling who Blake might have listening in. It was bothersome enough the man had his cronies following their every move. The governor was smart … Merle was smarter, and so were their people. "Has somethin' happened? Was there trouble on th' run?"

Merle ran both hands over his short-cropped hair and shook his head. He shoved his fists deep into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for her. She wouldn't appreciate him coddling her when she was on a quest for information. "Shit ain't good, sugar." He looked as if he were on the verge of a royal Dixon meltdown as his crystalline eyes searched hers. "Abe said Griffin is overrun an' our group – m' brother – they're gone … t' th' prison."

"What?!" she hissed, bounding to her feet, one hand rising to cover her mouth. "That was s'posed t' be a last resort! How does Abraham know they went there for sure?"

He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to her. "Abe copied this. It was drawn on th' wall in Daryl's bedroom." Her wide eyes lifted to his, a tiny gasp escaping her parted lips. "Yeah," he scoffed, "matches th' map y' gave th' group when we visited th' farm."

Marty rose unsteadily to her feet and crumpled the paper in her hand. "Gawd, Merle … th' smoke." She turned her head in the direction of the prison. "Blake sent Shumpert to investigate!"

"Which is why I need t' get m' ass over there an' head him off. We can't let him find our people."

Marty raked an anxious hand through her messy, ebony curls. "An' how do y' propose t' do that, Dixon? We're already bein' watched. You'd need a team, an' there's no way we'd all be able t' slip past the fences without bein' noticed. Especially YOU!"

Merle's eyes flashed hotly as his skin flushed with anger. "He's m' brother, Martine!"

"What … y' think I don't love Daryl too?" she fumed indignantly. "Or Carol an' Soph? They're my fam'ly too, Merle. Blake has already begun t' question your loyalty. If we leave … oh, don't even look at me like that. If y' leave, there ain't a chance I'm stayin' behind."

"Sugar …"

"If we leave, what's t' happen t' our team? They depend on us. What's t' happen t' all th' innocent people in this town? They'd be left t' th' governor's mercy. Jus' say we do make it out o' here, we get t' th' prison an' take shelter with our fam'ly … it's goin' t' be all out war. Do y' really want t' put so many lives at risk? Y' know Blake wouldn't give up until every one of us was dead."

"I cain't jus' stand around here an' do nothin'!"

"You don't have a choice!"

Merle stared at her, his jaw set tightly, his teeth gnashing together, unable to accept he was in no position to help his brother. "I … I'll go t' Blake, get clearance for us t' make a run."

Marty closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders as she pulled his head down to rest her brow against hers. "We're walkin' a tightrope over a pit o' vipers, Merle. One wrong move …"

"I'll fix this," he said, nodding jerkily, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "We've fought too long an' hard t' let th' bastard win."

She soothed him, one hand tracing over his nape, the other hand roaming gently over his back as he buried his face against her throat and breathed her in. "Baby, it's time. We cain't wait any longer. Everything is in place … you jus' have to draw him out," she whispered. God help them all if the wrong person overheard them.

When he lifted his head and caught her gaze, she could see the steely determination deep in his icy blue eyes. "We gotta get our people t'gether … t'night."

*.*.*

The tinkling of the crystal decanter along the rim of a cut glass tumblr and the slosh of fine scotch was the only sound to permeate the silence of his humble surroundings. Philip tilted his head to the side, not even bothering to wince at the loud cracking of delicate bones in his neck. He took a long sip from his glass and rested his head against the padded back of his desk chair with a weary sigh. His thoughts drifted – not idly, but at an alarming rate – his mind filled with a deluge of images, plans … possibilities for the future.

Dixon was becoming a problem. Though he had the man under constant surveillance, there was still no proof his loyalties had changed. He still stepped up to carry out whatever task Blake set forth, yet Philip couldn't shake the feeling he was being duped. And that was unacceptable. Before the turn, he'd ruled his business, his family and personal affairs with an iron fist. Just because civilization had collapsed, he didn't feel as if he should have to change the traits ingrained from a lifetime. He would always get what he wanted, and no one would take his hard-won success from him. He wouldn't allow it. Especially some redneck trash. Dixon was a soldier, nothing more, and could be replaced.

Marty, on the other hand – he thought with a calculating smile – was a rare and priceless gem. She was far too good for the likes of Merle Dixon. The ebony-haired vixen would make a lovely first lady for the kingdom he was building. He wouldn't delude himself to think it would be easy to tame her, but it would be a challenge he relished. He refilled his glass and smiled. The girl would give him a child. Dixon may have sired it, but he would raise it, nurture it, and revel in his second chance at fatherhood. Martine had been his ultimate goal; the baby was an added boon.

Blake sneered at the knock on his door, but quickly schooled his features into a bland mask, calling out his permission to enter. He could only hope it was Shumpert returning with a good report. His face morphed into a smirk as the man in question strode into the room, closing the door behind him. "Governor."

"Shumpert, I didn't expect you back so soon. Please, sit."

The man chose to stand, hands idle at his side as he stood before the desk. "No time, Sir."

Philip resumed his seat and narrowed his eyes on the big man. "What have you to report?" he questioned, getting to the meat of the matter. It wasn't often Shumpert refused to have a seat and share a drink with his boss. "Were my suspicions correct? Someone has taken an interest in the prison?"

Shumpert watched Blake pick up a silver letter opener and twirl it between his fingers, trying to hide the anxiety which seemed to pour off of him. "More than an interest, Sir."

"What are you saying?"

"From what we were able to see, the prison is occupied."

Blake slammed the letter opener onto the desk as he raised cold dark eyes to his lieutenant. "That's not possible. Dixon said it would take at least three teams to clear it. I saw it with my own eyes."

Shumpert shrugged. It mattered little to him personally. "The yard is clear, Sir. When Crowley went in for a closer look, he reported there are people living there."

"How many?"

"Not sure, Sir. Tim counted at least ten from his vantage point … men, women and children. Some of them looked military. I don't know how organized they are, though. There were two kids, maybe early teens, manning the gate."

"Interesting." Philip sat back in his chair, rubbing a finger over his thin lips. The ramifications of such an occupation in close proximity to Woodbury didn't settle well with him. The prison belonged to him! "Anything else?"

"We followed your orders … recon only."

"Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?"

Shumpert nodded his head on his nonexistent neck. "We came upon a hunting party in the woods, most likely members of the group which took over the prison."

Blake's lips curled back over his teeth in a feral smile. "And did you happen to bring them back?"

"We did, Sir. A man and a woman. We thought you might want to interrogate them, so we locked them in the cells."

"Excellent."

*.*.*

Marty closed the door of the apartment quietly behind her, relieved to hear the click of the lock from the other side. She quite liked Michonne and Zach, the boy prattling non-stop as she'd shown them to an empty apartment in her building. The warrior woman – who'd come into town with a katana, no less – was suspicious of everything about the town, but Zach more than made up for her lack of words. Marty wanted to talk to her alone, sure she could be a valuable ally to their cause, but now was not the time to broach the subject. Not yet. Her people were waiting for her to join them on the roof, so the meeting could begin, and she was already late. She didn't need Merle huffing down the stairs to fetch her.

Merle had hardly let her out of his sight the entire afternoon, and had only grudgingly allowed her to set up accommodations for the new arrivals after garnering her promise to meet them in her workshop before ten. Their entire team should be waiting for her by now.

A sharp gasp tumbled past her lips as she turned around and nearly ran into the cause of their worries. "Mr. Blake, sir!"

Philip reached out a hand to steady her, and it took everything she had not to bat it away. "I didn't mean to frighten you, dear. Are our new citizens settling in?"

"Y-Yes," she stuttered, her heart thundering against her ribs. She didn't have time for this, she thought irritably. "Was there somethin' y' needed, sir? I was jus' on my way up t' retire."

Blake pursed his lips as he regarded her. "Actually, there is. The run team just returned and there were some injuries. I was hoping you'd be able to lend a hand. You just have a way with putting everyone at ease."

Marty shot a pointed look at the hand still wrapped around her upper arm, but he didn't release her. It was evident he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "What about th' rest of th' medical team? Cain't they handle this?"

"I've already sent for them."

"Ok," she agreed, seeing as she had no choice. "Jus' let me run up an' let Merle know where I'll be, an' I'll meet y' at th' clinic."

He steered her towards the stairs. "That won't be necessary. No need to disturb Dixon when it shouldn't take that long."

Shit! Shit! Shit! Merle was going to lose his mind if he looked down towards the street and saw her out for a stroll with the governor. But it couldn't be helped. She'd just have to suck it up and hope Merle's wrath could be managed. She was so lost in thought, she didn't notice they'd passed the clinic and were heading to the holding cells.

"What's going on, sir?" Marty asked, a puzzled frown knitting her brows. "Shouldn't our people have been brought to the infirmary?"

Blake smirked as he led her down the tin-walled corridor. "Oh, it wasn't our people who were injured. Shumpert came across two dangerous individuals and brought them back here for questioning. It's their wounds which must be tended. I wouldn't want them to die before I can glean any information pertinent to the continued safety of our community."

Marty felt the icy hand of dread shiver up her spine as he unlocked the door. Philip's hand tightened on her arm as he pushed her through ahead of him. Shumpert was the first one she noticed as her eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light, his hulking form unmistakable where he leaned against the wall, a pistol dangling in the holster at his belt, his compound bow slung over his back. Martinez was next. What the hell could he be doing here? He should be with Merle going over the plan.

Caesar met her eyes with a cold blank stare, an AK clasped loosely in his hands. What the … No, she wouldn't let herself believe he'd duped them this whole time. But she couldn't dwell on that as a groan issued from the shadows. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she met a familiar pair of blue eyes. "Oh, my god!"

Blake smiled, always pleased with himself when he was right in his assumptions. There was no mistaking the light of recognition in Marty's eyes. "Shumpert, pull up a chair for our lovely Martine." He shoved her down to sit as the big man pulled out a large roll of duct tape to secure her. "Welcome to the party, my dear."

*.*.*

"Where th' fuck is she!?" Merle hissed into the darkness. He wanted to rage against the world, angry, confused and panic-stricken over his woman's disappearance. Marty had been missing for well over an hour.

Sasha caressed the stock of her assault rifle where she sat balanced on the edge of the roof next to her brother. It wasn't the same weapon she used on watch duty. This one she kept on the roof of their apartment building where Merle had instituted their own watch not long after moving to the governor's stronghold. "We did a thorough sweep through the building, Dixon. Abraham, Tara and Rosita are searching the town, and Bob is asking around the watch posts to see if anyone has seen her. Someone has to know where she is, they're just not talking."

"What about Paco? Y'all ain't seen hide nor hair of him either?"

Tyreese shook his head, continuing his survey of the town through a pair of binoculars as Merle's steady pacing sounded behind him. "Not since the governor sent him off with the run group. They're back, just haven't seen anyone yet."

Sasha pushed off the low wall and made a circuit of the roof, her eagle eyes taking in everything below. It wasn't often she'd witnessed their commander close to losing his shit, but she had to admit the thought of Marty being in trouble had them all on edge. A low whistle slipped past her lips as her eyes scanned the street below. She retreated into the shadows, watching as Tyreese passed the field glasses to Merle, angling them where she pointed.

"Seems like your boy's headed this way," she murmured quietly. "And he's not alone."

"Fuck!" Merle shoved the binoculars in her direction as he sprinted for the stairs. He didn't want to be caught up on the roof if Martinez was bringing company … no doubt at Blake's order. He ran down both flights of stairs and flung open the door to his apartment, closing it quietly behind him, so the sound wouldn't echo through the building. Moving quickly, he grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and popped the cap into the sink, waiting for the inevitable knock as he tried to slow his breathing.

He was able to mumble off a quick prayer for Marty's safety before it came. Merle pasted a none-too-friendly smile on his face as he opened the door, his eyes narrowing on Crowley where he stood next to Martinez. "Kinda late for y'all t' be knockin' on m' door, boys. Past curfew," he drawled.

"Governor wants to see ya," Crowley shrugged.

Martinez ducked his head, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck. Merle's eyes flickered over to him briefly, noticing the subtle tell which never boded well. He wanted to put Crowley's head through a wall, so he could question his friend, but that didn't seem likely to happen. His skin crawled with anxiety, and he found himself wishing his brother was there. What he wouldn't give for Daryl's quiet strength and understanding. The youngest Dixon had never failed to have his back, and though he knew his team would be ready to rush into any given situation, it wasn't the same.

Merle took a long pull off his beer and set it on the table just inside the door. He would gladly listen to his woman bitch and moan about leaving things lying around later. He followed the two men, holding his curiosity until they'd exited the building. "So, what's all this about, Crowley? The run didn't go south, did it?" He knew there wasn't a chance in hell the smoke had come from anywhere but the prison, but he couldn't seem to relinquish that last ray of hope he clung to.

"Naw, it went ok. Don't really know or care what the governor wants with you. He gives me an order, I carry it out. Just like everybody else, Dixon," the man snickered caustically.

Merle gnashed his teeth, stamping down hard on his desire to drive his knife into the base of the flunkie's skull. The feeling was becoming more common the more he was forced to be around those loyal to the governor. A shiver crept up his spine as they led him towards the cells, the temperature always a little cooler there in the maze of corridors making up Blake's own personal jail. Very few held down there ever saw the light of day again. He wouldn't allow himself to think of Marty down there, captive, scared and mad as hell. It would end him, and it was imperative he kept his wits about him. He could handle whatever Blake might want to throw at him, but it made him break out in a cold sweat to think of his woman in the hands of that sadistic fucker.

He could feel the comforting weight of his piece pressed against the small of his back, breathing easier to know he had it along with the knife in his boot and the dagger cuffs Marty had fashioned for him months ago. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom enveloping him in its cloying presence, the scent of fear and blood heavy in the air.

Merle didn't like the smirk curling the side of Crowley's wide mouth, nor the way Martinez refused to meet his eyes. What the fuck was going on? Caesar followed him into the room, giving him a little push. He turned, glaring, ready to ask him what his problem was, only to find a gun pointed in his face. Shumpert stood stoically against the wall as Blake sat with a hip perched against the table, his face impassive. A whimper drew his attentions to the shadows and Merle felt the blood drain from his face, the sight of Marty tied to a chair, tears spilling from her lovely eyes, making his heart stutter in his chest. Only after he was assured she was well did his gaze find the other occupants of the room. The world came crashing down around his ears seeing his sister-in-law bound and gagged in the chair next to Marty's and his brother sprawled on the dirt floor, blood seeping from a cut near his hairline, unconscious.

There was no way he could hide the fear and rage barreling through him. He was a bullshitter from way back. It had saved his life on more than one occasion, but even he wasn't that good of an actor.

Blake clapped his hands as if he'd just been handed the Nobel peace prize. "Well, now that we're all here, let's get this party started."

A/n: OMG, I never thought I'd get this chapter done. I have to admit, out of 67 chapters, this was the hardest one to write. Sorry for the lack of Caryl in this one, but it had to happen in Woodbury to set the scene for the next chapter. I really hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know.

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