AN: WARNINGS: This chapter goes some way to earning the M rating. No Marol action, not really, but a little something. Hopefully it is believable.
I didn't struggle to write this chapter. I am more than a little heartsore at the moment with worrying about my Caryl, BUT, I fully believe that if Merle were still alive, he not only would have understood why Carol killed Karen and David, he'd have dropped everything to track her down and protect her, too. That's my belief and I'm sticking to it. It's made my Marol heart even stronger!
Part Fourteen
She awoke to the terrifying sensation of burning alive in her own bed. Sweat dripped from her, a light fever causing her to shake despite the heat that beaded off her flesh. Carol slowly sat up and left the bed, her legs feeling weaker now than they had the last few days being kept in the town's example of a hospital, but then today she'd walked the length of the street and then up a flight of stairs. At least she's stopped coughing. She can be grateful for that.
Desperate to feel the cool air on her clammy skin, she peels the soaked thin nightdress over her head and flings it to the side. It is a relief to stand alone in the dark, feeling a gentle breeze tease the fine hairs on her body and to not have the restrictions of her nightgown, nor the heaviness of the mattress against her, weighing her down. Those encumbrances felt suffocating and now that she's up, even with the illness still burning gently beneath her flesh, she feels a little freer.
It's nothing she can quite discern that startles her to awareness of being naked in front of a window. Maybe it's the slight breeze that blows across her nipples, making them prickle and pull taut, or the resonating silence that other nights seems to torture her eardrums when it all gets a bit much. But maybe it's the catch of some very slight movement across the street from her window that brings her naked state to sudden, unexpected reality. Carol stops, drifts closer to the open window, and then her gaze falls upon a man across the street, silently watching her, his frozen focus almost reverent. Only when he moves does she realise that it's Merle and common sense kicks in; she rushes to rip up a sheet from the bed to provide herself with cover. Her heart is thundering in her ears, her body breaking out into a fresh sweat based on something far more primal than remnant pneumonia and it makes her head spin in a rush of feelings and desires that's he can barely comprehend.
When she sneaks another glance out into the darkened street, he's gone and suddenly she's disappointed, then cursing herself all manner a fool for feeling like that. What she is left with is this shimmer of awareness and she realises that she might be more awake in this moment than she has been for most of her life. She feels vividly alive, hyper-aware of her blood rushing hot through her veins as a blush rises to the surface. Her grip on the sheet loosens a little and Carol hesitantly steps closer to the window, peering bravely down the street, searching, hoping, needing something she can't quite put into words. She thinks she can just see him, but she's not certain until he suddenly turns back and she can feel the heat in his gaze, searching for another peak at her nudity like some adolescent school boy playing peeping tom to the girl across the road. She doubts he can actually see anything more than shapes and shadows, this town's curfew blanketing the streets in total darkness other than the natural light of the moon, but as he lingers up the street, still watching her window, Carol stands up straighter, draws in a deep, centring breath and slowly, nervously, lets the sheet fall from her body. It pools at her feet, mocking her bravery and she shivers with an unknown exhilaration.
She steps closer to the window again, her hands braced against the frame, and she watches him watch her, knowing he must only be getting a silhouette of her but even that is enough to send an unexpected spark of desire snaking down through her core. She squeezes her legs together, draws the tingling ache up inside herself, surprised yet interested and uses all her willpower to refrain from touching herself while he stands guard. He appears to shake his head and she fancies she can hear his quiet chuckle all the way in her room as he turns and slowly walks away. Carol steps back, disappointed, confused, troubled and throws the sheet back over her bed.
She doesn't find sleep so easily after that. Can't seem to shut off the thoughts and the sensual slideshow that comes to living colour without any effort at all. For close to a year she's spent every breathing moment beside two women with stunning, fit bodies, with either an engaging smile or bedroom eyes. They have the appearance and vitality of youth, though she has no real idea what the true age of either of them would be. It hasn't been easy to surrender to any form of sexuality with privacy at such a minimum and not even a hint of male inspiration to encourage her to dream. Not since she and Andrea had left the men of their group long behind. This town has provided a refuge Carol hasn't expected, and now it shoots heat through her as if she should be ashamed.
She doesn't know what devil has possessed her to lie back on her sheets naked, bared flesh stimulated by the scratchy reality of real cotton and the gentle breeze she's being gifted by leaving her window open. It all drives her lust toward a rapid pinnacle and she's no longer able to ignore it. She clamps her eyes shut tight but without barely any effort she's easily imagining Merle in the room, leaning over her, teasing her with his warm breath and experienced tongue, whispering hot, dirty words in her ear.
It shouldn't be like this—she doesn't know him, not really. She only knows what Daryl has told her and none of his stories unveiled a kind, loving man within Merle's depths, nor did he betray the possibility of a skilled lover that might take her to heights so far unreached in her life. In fact, Daryl's snippets of his brother are shattering, uncomplimentary taunts about Merle's inability to be a bit choosy with his conquests and the medical repercussions of such short-sighted hook ups. He should be completely undesirable to her, and yet Carol remembers those words of protection and defence he'd offered her when Ed was still at the quarry, knows what he has done more recently to keep her alive, and instead of being repulsed by his past, she's stimulated by his present.
By the time she argues it out in her head, it is too late for her peace of mind. Willing fingers have started to explore the places she remembers best finding pleasure and her mind has already tricked her into imagining Merle's participation. Her skin is prickled heat as one hand massages and teases her breasts, alternating between sensually rubbing a nipple with her thumb and then squeezing it tighter to a brief sting. Her other hand has already set a slow groove between her legs, gathering her sweet juices to slather over her clit. The bud is hard and protrudes desperately against her fingers and Carol settles into a smooth, steady rhythm that has her panting in a flash. She's had no time for this acknowledgment of her sexuality while surviving day to day in the woods. Hasn't had a craving for this kind of touch for longer than she can remember, but now, accidentally exposing her body to Merle, she has lit a match, exposed a hunger, and she's almost crying now as her body writhes around on the bed. The exquisite torture builds rapidly, spreading the heat outward from her belly until she thrums her clit that final time and it pushes her over the edge, back arched off the bed and her hips gyrating to the pulse of her orgasm as she bites her lip to hold all her sound in, trying to cling to it, sustain it, ring it out for every torturous second of enjoyment she can possibly take.
She's hot when it's all over, and Carol is reminded of the fever that had clung to her skin and which had pulled her from sleep in the first place. Now a new fever runs through her blood, and at this point it feels stronger than her body's attempt to combat disease, feels needier. She's not sure if it is Merle that has inspired this new wanton desire, or the suggestion of men in general, or if it has only sprung to life because she's experiencing her first freedom since this war began, but whichever it is, she's exhausted now and needs to stop thinking of him, of what she's done, but even as her eyes close and darkness starts to push her toward rest, she already knows that she's going to find Merle and ask him again to leave with them, and if he says no, she's going to stick to him like fungi until she finds out why.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
The morning finds Carol more refreshed than she remembers being since the farm. It's the first night she can remember in a long while where she hasn't been half listening for a walker's warning shuffle and moan, where she hasn't been shunted from sleep with the necessity of taking over watch or packing her things in a split second to run…the first night she's been able to fantasize about a man that wasn't her husband and actually receive pleasure from it. Her body immediately flushes when she thinks about it and Carol has a moment of panic that she won't be able to keep the knowledge of what she's done from Merle when she bumps into him—because she plans on definitely bumping into him, at least figuratively though she won't cancel anything out at this stage.
Andrea rushes toward her as soon as she leaves her room, ushering her to the table where she's actually prepared some fruit and dried cereal for breakfast, fluttering around like a busy bee with a huge smile on her face. "How are you feeling?"
The question is a simple one, and Andrea expects a simple answer, but Carol can see in Michonne's watchful, intent gaze from across the table that her other friend will put much serious weight behind her reply. "I think I still have a small fever," she admits carefully, wondering why she's so hesitant to be cured when leaving this place is what she wants…still wants, equally with Michonne.
But…she wants to work out Merle first. She wants to know why he won't leave with them, why he won't come with them to look for his brother. Won't just come with them because he knows there is something wrong with this place. Carol knows that Merle is sharp and if she's picked up that there is something not quite right with Phillip Blake, then living with the man for a year is enough time, she's sure, for Merle to know it as a blisteringly simple truth. She also wants to explore this new attraction, sort it out for what it rightfully is before she moves on and has to forget him. She doesn't want to pine for him when she's back out there fighting daily for her life—she wants to learn now that he's not the kind of man that would turn her head. Not that she knows what kind of man that would be. Maybe someone like Daryl—someone who can be a friend, who doesn't always put his own needs ahead of everyone else's. Someone who is different to Ed—someone she can trust, and most of all, a man who has honour—who would never raise his fist to remind her of her place, never bully her to raise his own expectations of himself. She doesn't really know the first thing about Merle, other than that he can carry her over a reasonable distance and that his hand is warm, but she's thinking that, like her efforts to befriend Daryl, bringing him kicking and screaming into their fold, that she just might like to learn.
"Do you feel up to a walk around town today?" Andrea is pushing the bright spirit, her smile firmly in place and Carol is almost scorched by her determinedly sunny disposition. Her heart sinks, wondering if this spirit should really be ripped away from this town that has inspired it, if it holds all the things that Andrea needs to be happy. To survive. If it will kill her spirit to tear her away from all of this and push her back into the woods, back into running every hour in an effort to exist in this new life.
"She doesn't need to see the town." Michonne's face is set in a hard determination, her lips straight, a frown in the deep set of lines on her forehead. It sets Carol's nerves on edge, simply because she does want to see this town, see the allure of it for Andrea, take a moment to remember what life was once like before it all went to shit, before they made beds of leaves under a hundred trees their nomadic home.
"It might help to heal me faster if I get some exercise," Carol suggests gently, hoping Michonne isn't slamming up walls and preparing herself for desertion. "Maybe I can find some provisions for us to take with us when we go."
"How long?" Michonne isn't looking at her, staring out the window with tight lips and her body so rigid Carol wonders if she knows something that she hasn't shared.
"Two days." She waits, feels relief when Michonne turns to her, slowly nods her head and picks up a peach. The first bite is juicy, the sugary liquid squirting across her lips. She sweeps her tongue out and collects the juice, and crunches through her mouthful of fruit. She nods again, her lips forming a slight smile motivated by pure relief.
"Two days."
"I'll be stronger by then," Carol reassures, hoping she's telling the truth.
After breakfast, Andrea links her arm through hers and leads her out into the street. There are people milling about, they have jobs and purpose and Carol is taken aback at the surrealism of it all, almost tricked into thinking this isn't the world she escaped from. These people are completely sheltered from the horrors outside the walls and while Carol feels relief for them, she also feels fear because if there is one thing she has learned through the last year, it's that the dead will always come, no matter how safe they think their hiding place is.
Andrea says hello to these people, stops on the sidewalk periodically to hold a conversation with a stranger, learning about them, learning their names and Carol stands back, worrying. Andrea is positioning herself, scoping out a possible place in this community, she can see it plain as day, and Carol wonders if this means she's made a decision and it's one that will break all of their hearts.
When they are walking again, broken free of the people in this town interested in meeting Carol and in knowing Andrea better, the blonde sighs and Carol waits with a horrible bubble of foreboding swelling up inside of her.
"Do you really feel it?" she asks and for a moment Carol stumbles, stops, and watches her friend with confusion.
"That this place is dangerous?" Her voice is as soft as Andrea's, careful to not be overheard and she is right to as she can feel the animosity of a force observing them, watching their every move. "Yes. I'm sorry, but it isn't safe here."
"But all these people—" The public defender within Andrea is strong, her concerns for human rights and justice something that is always with her. It is something Carol truly loves about her, but this time, she can't let her friend get caught in this need she has to save the people. This time, the people will have to save themselves. Carol and Michonne intend to do that for themselves, smart enough to not hand their lives over to a man like this Governor who barely shields his malice from view. Carol refuses to leave Andrea behind—she's almost decided they will drag her out, kicking and screaming if that is the way it has to be.
Andrea drops her head, her shoulders slump and Carol can see the dejection settle upon her as an unbearable weight. When she looks up there are tears in her eyes, and she clasps Carol's hand tightly, almost pushing bones to break, and she nods, almost imperceptibly accepting that Carol isn't lying. "I trust you," she says, her voice low and crackly with emotion and yearning and Carol throws her arms around her friend, squeezing tightly while she clamps her own eyes closed against the sting of tears.
While they stand there, enclosed in this moment of acceptance, sharing emotional strength, Carol's ears prick up at a loud burst of laughter. She knows instantly that it's Merle, the sound of him somehow burned into her synapses with a knowledge she never knew she had. With a recognition she suddenly never wants to lose. Her gaze seeks him out, finding him on the wall, holding a rifle as he aims and takes out the threats on the other side with a cool precision she's surprised to see. He moves his aim after each shot, obviously taking down each walker with one headshot before moving on to the next, and Carol's admiration blossoms. He's Daryl's brother, of course his aim is true, and she sees how very valuable men like him have become in a world torn apart by the dead. He doesn't waste ammunition, passing the firearm aside and then hopping over the edge where she can't see but where she can hear every grunt and squelch as his knife finds its target and he eliminates the town of the walker threat for now.
One of the other men lets him back in through a tall gate, full sheets of metal so you can't see out and no one can see in. No one can see anything of this place except for the sentry on the wall. It makes sense, to keep the people hidden from the monsters held at bay, to keep their movements from walker's senses, but it also fills Carol with suspicion. The Governor doesn't want people knowing about this place. It's filled with citizens but she suspects they've not added to the number for a while—not until Merle has dragged her in like a sick kitten out of the cold.
She hasn't realised she's been moving toward him, Andrea tagging along with a glint of amusement in her eye. Carol ignores it, ignores her own actions in favour of just looking to her soul's content. Merle sees them as he re-enters the fold and moves straight to them, a cocky swagger and a smirk of personal satisfaction on his lips. He looks her up and down and Carol senses the fire rush through her veins and her cheeks are burning. She's done nothing wrong, except imagining him touching her so she can calm her raging pulse enough to go to sleep. He doesn't know that, but he must have seen enough the night before to know she'd been naked and hadn't hid from his view.
"Well hello there, ladies. Out for a stroll?" He's right in front of her now, looking down at her with sparkling eyes and a wicked grin and Carol actually, honest-to-God forgets to breathe. Forgets to speak. Andrea eyes her oddly; her sharp elbow suddenly finds a tender spot in her ribs.
"Just trying to get Carol's strength up," Andrea admits, rushing in to cover for her ineptness, and Carol watches him closely, wonders at the narrowing of his eyes and the searching look he aims straight at her. He acknowledges Andrea briefly but then his full attention is on her and Carol hardly knows what to do with it.
"So you're still fixin' on leavin' then?" He's asking her directly and she can see that he's invested in her answer—he's keenly watching her, his expression flat.
Her head dips and she stares at his boots, her stomach dropping at the thought that this, whatever this was, might be all that she would ever have. She needs him to leave, to come with them when they go. Determined, Carol looks up and stares unflinchingly into his eyes, blue clashing with blue until she starts to sink, starts to wonder, starts to hope.
"We can't stay."
Something flickers and seems to die in his eyes and Carol gasps, reaches out and rests her hand on his arm, curling her fingers into his shirt sleeves, tugging it urgently without realising so that he's almost forced to take a step closer to her. She senses his warmth and then notices as his face hardens and he steps back, shrugs her off and she's lost the moment before she's even asked him again to come with them. She wants to kick herself for being so forward, for betraying any level of attraction.
"Sure you can," he says, a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes trying to coax her into something, but Carol is so overwhelmed by what she's done, by what she's revealed, that she's lost the ability to read him.
She hears the crunch of his footsteps first, and then the Governor is there. There's no suave entrance, just a cocky self-assurance that this man doesn't need to put out to get women crawling all over anyone in their way to get to him. It's just there and Carol wonders how exhausting it must be to take on a man like him, and then she looks at Andrea and her heart sinks as she sees the interest in her friend's eyes as she eyeballs the man.
"I was hoping to see you out and about soon," the Governor drawls in his deep, gravelly voice and Carol cringes at the taint of insincerity while bravely trying to don a smile of welcome.
"Doesn't do to just lay around in bed all day," she says, finding it necessary to hold back that she's trying to regain her strength in preparation of getting out and away from him and his ominous aura.
"Not at all." His smile was wide, full of satisfaction with life and Carol was more than a little disturbed to see Andrea lap it all up straight after their talk. "I was hoping you might like to come to my place for dinner tonight. Both of you…and your friend, Michonne."
Merle takes a step away, about to leave and before Carol can answer the invitation, she wants to grab hold of Merle and keep him still—wants to tell him not to leave them alone with this man. She holds her tongue, though, refuses to admit fear of a mere man ever again, refuses to feel weak at the mere hint of what he could do to her should he desire it. She doesn't have to worry, though, as the Governor calls out to him, keeps him in their circle, then shocks her right out of her socks.
"And you, Merle. Could do with another man at the table to even things out. You are the hero of the day, after all."
Carol doesn't mistake the quick glint of malice the town's leader shoots at Merle and she suspects Merle didn't miss it, either. Now she'd just be killed with curiosity wondering what could have fuelled such a look.
"Of course, Gov'nor," Merle concedes and Carol feels happy. Not relieved, though she's that as well, but happy. Butterfly-fluttering-on-the-wind happy. " My count has that at five, though. Not exactly even." There is a challenge in his words and Carol feels the blood drain from her face, sensing the danger between them as Merle stands tall, defiant.
There was a glint of something shockingly evil that Carol just barely caught before the Governor shielded it from view, drew it back within himself.
"I've asked Milton to join us, of course," he says, his mouth no longer tilting with even a hint of a smile until he returns his attention to Andrea, and Carol sees herself how he switches himself on, his charismatic nature turning on like a tap and Andrea falls for it.
"We'll be there," Andrea promises on all their behalf, her eyes shining brightly and her lips stretched beautifully across perfectly straight teeth while Carol struggles not to toss out a refusal.
"Well, all right then," their host beams, barely able to tear his gaze away from the blonde. Dread settles upon Carol like a shroud, heavy, stifling, and she's more terrified now than she was waking up sick and almost useless in that cabin and finding men trying to rape and kill her friends.
Merle avoids her stare, her appeal and she feels deserted, bereft as he strides away, back to the wall, scaling the side with a grace unnatural to a one-handed man. Her senses are swirling and Carol feels weakness closing in.
"Andrea?" she interrupts and doesn't feel sorry at all for getting in the middle of googly-eyes and poisoned insincerity. "I think I need to rest. Can you take me back?" She looks him dead in the eye, her person not as easily swayed as her friend. "We will see you tonight," she tells the Governor definitively, and then she's dragging Andrea away.