Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
a/n: I'd like to say a quick thank you to everyone that has reviewed and favorited/followed this story...and another special thank you to wildcow258 for giving me the idea of putting Daryl and Rick into this chapter-my original intention was not to have these two in it, but I think it kind of worked out well enough.
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Merle crouched and watched from his vantage spot of a large overgrown bush, his eyes on two men a small distance from where he was hidden. He held his breath, narrowing his eyes as he thought on what to do. His main concern was the woman hidden, he hoped, safely away some distance from him. He knew that he wouldn't let these men live...and even if that spelled bad fucking news for him, it would be worth it just to keep her safe. He felt he was on borrowed time anyway, so what the hell. Besides, these assholes didn't deserve any damn thing, he knew this now from his brief time at the prison. He let his caught up breath release quietly in one long drawn out sigh, and made his move.
"Long way from home, ain'tcha boys?" He called out as he stepped from beneath the shrub he'd used as cover. A grin stretched across his face as he watched the two men wrestle with a moldering female walker in a flowing tattered mud smeared dress. "Gonna use that pig sticker? Or ya thinking of jus' tickling that biter?" The mans knife fell to the floor as one of the biters arms flailed maddeningly around. Merle watched, he knew those men, recognised them as wanna-be soldiers from Woodbury, and he felt a hard grim determination seep through him as he saw the surprised little looks they gave him.
"Merle," said one grimly calling over his shoulder, "You're a dead man, you fucking asshole."
"I don't doubt that, but ya'll gonna die long time 'fore I do," Merle let his eyes rake across the man, the grin plastering firmly on his face. "Oh hell," he cackled, watching the other man-he'd forgotten his name and the truth be told, he found he didn't actually give a fuck. The way he was wrestling that biter, he'd soon be dead anyways. "You need'a put that bitch down!" he jeered mirthfully.
The second guy glanced at him warily, his eyes quickly sweeping from him to the other man that was now down on the ground, the biter sprawled half across the top of him, teeth all a snapping as he struggled with one hand under its neck, pushing it upwards as his other hand reached out for his dropped knife.
"Greg, for fuck's sake help..." yelped the man on the floor.
"Shit," Greg hissed and he rushed towards his fallen comrade, his sneakered foot carelessly kicking the knife across the ground.
"Buncha pussy assed amateurs," Merle taunted, stepping nearer and raising the gun in his hand.
"You gonna help us?" Greg fumbled with the knife in his belt, hissing in frustration as he couldn't tug it free, deciding instead to reach down and tug at the female walker.
Merle shrugged, "Why the fuck do ya think I'm gonna go an' help two numb nuts like yourselves? I'm findin' that kinda ironic." He squinted with one eye and took steady aim, before loudly popping a bullet firmly through Greg's forehead. "Mhm," he sighed, raising his eyebrows as he watched the man slump heavily and land on top of the biter. "Kid I dunno know yer name, and if I'm honest, I really don't give a rats ass, but it sure looks like yer screwed." He watched as the biter clawed at the mans face, the loud snap and splattering crunch as its teeth finally connected with flesh and bone, and he lowered his gun, nodding at the young man as he heard his frantic howls of anguish and pain.
He heard a soft rustle come from the bushes behind him, and he spat loudly and cursed silently, as he glanced over his shoulder. Damned if that little mouse hadn't done as she was told. He'd caught sight of her face, her wide eyes, and in that split second, he'd seen that her gun was in her hand. He dragged his gaze away, not noticing a third man slip silently to his side, and he didn't see until it was too late the barrel of a gun slam viciously to his temple. He landed heavily on his knees in the dirt, his prosthesis slowing his fall, the blade stabbing awkwardly into the soft ground. His gun spun from his hand, landing softly in the leaf debris.
"What tha fuck?" he spat angrily.
"Exactly," a voice droned thickly behind him, "You old asshole, you should have just stayed gone. I know for a fact that the Governor will be more than happy to see your ugly face, or your head, I guess it doesn't matter so much to him."
Merle laughed. "'I bet he would, shame that jus' ain't gonna happen, ya piece of chicken shit." He knelt in the dirt, his hand grasping at the soft earth. There was a soft sudden swoosh, and then he felt white hot pain as a boot slammed hard into his face, and he groaned as he thought he felt his nose break under the quick pressure, his blood spraying out warm and thick, gushing down his cheeks and chin.
He felt a hand grab at his shirt collar, and for a moment, he tiredly concluded that this really was it, this was gonna be the goddamned end for him, and he thought sullenly of all the things he'd done and of all the thing's he'd never done, and he wondered idly if anyone would actually give a fuck, or even miss him.
A loud crack of gunshot rang out, breaking into the quiet, the only other sound his rasping ragged breathing, and dimly he thought he heard a bird somewhere above screaming its fear far into the trees. A second shot rang out, and he was mildly aware of the rigid pressure that had been around his neck had now eased and fallen away, and then the dull solid thud of a body smacking against the ground. He let his eyes close, wondering what exactly was the fucking point of anything.
A hand reached down, tugging and pulling at his arm, trying to pull him to his feet, and he raised his head sluggishly, looking with total bewilderment at the woman stood near to him.
Carol shoved her gun back into the waistband of her pants, and knelt on the ground next to him, her one hand catching gently across the back of his head. "Get up Merle, please," she demanded, and as he met her gaze, he saw fear shining largely and luminously in her eyes. He retrieved his gun, and struggled back to his feet, watching as she stood undecided over the body, her knife appearing suddenly in her hand.
"Don't Carol. Leave 'em," he rasped, "Let the fuckers turn. I don't care."
Her eyes widened again, and she said quietly, "We can't just leave them like that, it's not who we are."
He shoved his gun into his pants, and quickly wiped the dirt off his blade on to his thigh. He reached out quickly and grabbed at her arm, his grip tight. "Don't ya dare for one minute think what the outcome of this would've been if they'd gotten hold of ya. I know what that sick fuck wanted to do to Maggie," he swallowed thickly as her gaze caught his, the hot flash of anger and understanding in her blue eyes. "Would've been worse for you. I don't care what ye fuckin' think of me right now, but I wasn't gonna let that happen to you. These people...they would've killed me, and taken you back to the Governor. So no, don't ya fuckin' dare. Let 'em turn."
Merle saw with some small satisfaction that she had re-sheathed her knife, and he turned away from her, hacking up a thick clot of blood, spitting it out over the corpse. His hand slipped down her arm, grabbing at her hand, pulling her with him as he turned quickly on his heel. "Let's move our asses... biters gonna come, what with that pretty show of gunfire ya put up. Although, there's at least one biter that's gonna be pretty busy," he indicated with his prosthesis the lone female walker that was slowly devouring one of the fallen men. "Heh...with any luck, others will jus' see that free for all biter-buffet I jus' ever so kindly donated to."
They ran back through the woods for a while, until the wheeze of his breath bubbling out of his nose left him panting for his breath. He slowed up, letting her hand go, and rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand.
"You're hurt," she stated blankly, moving closer to him.
"It ain't nothin," he mumbled, despite the harsh sting of the reopened cut on the bridge of his nose. Blood trickled down his cheek, his temple and he swatted at it with his hand, glancing down at the crimson smeared darkly across his palm.
"Here, let me look at you," her voice was low and full of concern.
"Told ya woman, it ain't nothin," he sighed irritably again, alarm tinging his voice as he saw that she was stood a lot closer to him now than he'd originally thought. His breath felt heavy in his lungs, and he exhaled, the sound whistling through his bust up nose. "Never was a pretty boy," he grumbled, "An' now look at me, ain't I jus' delightful?"
Her hand touched at his cheek, and he flinched. "Don't be so stubborn Merle," she said softly, frowning as her fingers fluttered against his skin.
Merle fought against the sudden lump in his throat as he looked at her, as he felt her touch. She was staring up at him and he was damned if he couldn't see tears misting in those pretty eyes of hers. He felt tightness grow in his chest at her closeness, he felt trapped and he wanted to rage at her, push her away and tell her to get the fuck out and just leave him the hell alone. But when he glanced at her again, saw those tears shimmering in her blue eyes he felt something loosen up inside of him. The anger he wanted so badly to feel didn't come, instead it twisted into something else, something he didn't totally believe he could feel, and it scared him. "I ain't worth your pity, save it for some fucker more deservin'," he said tightly.
She shook her head at him, "Why are all you Dixon's the same? You and your brother, you're both stubborn, hot headed asses."
He just grunted at her in reply, then froze as she wiped at the blood on his chin with the cuff of her shirt, her touch so light and gentle, and he found himself suddenly wondering if she would notice the heady thrum of blood pounding at his temple. He twisted his head away from her, holding himself rigid as her other hand came up and cupped his cheek. She stared at him defying him to move again, even so much as tut tutting at him as she resumed wiping the blood off his skin. He let himself grow still, hardly daring to breath, trying to avert his eyes from the gentleness he saw in hers, instead staring resolutely over the top of her head. "Jus' stop it woman," he hissed weakly at her.
"No Merle I won't," She looked up at him and he was terrified to see a tear trickle down her cheek. "You could have died, you idiot." Her breath hitched loudly and Merle suddenly thought that facing a whole herd of biters would have been a lot more easier to deal with than this woman crying tears for him. He wasn't worthy of any of that shit. Nobody had ever cried for him.
"Ain't 'aving no bitch cry boo hoo tears for ole Merle. Didn't ask for your pity an' I sure as hell don't deserve, or want it. Jus' go an' save it sister," he sneered spitefully, wanting her to just move the hell away from him before he did something that they might both just regret.
She glanced at him sadly, shaking her head, before letting her hand slip slowly from his cheek to rest firmly on his chest, her fingers splayed out, cool against the warmth of his skin.
He glanced down at her hand, his eyes narrowing heatedly, "I'm tellin' ya. You wanna get the hell away from me woman, leave me the shit alone," he growled. "I ain't nothin' good." Frustration seethed in his chest as she didn't move, and he pushed against her, shoving at her, and although she moved backwards a step with him, she still didn't move away, and her small hand still rested against his chest. He smothered a growl, raising his arm to push her away again, but wondering and hating himself as his arm slipped unbidden around her waist, pulling her closer. He felt the sudden stab of a headache pound before his eyes, and he cursed himself, and her more. As much as he didn't want to acknowledge it to himself, she felt so damned good all pressed up against him. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to ignore the little inner voice that was laughing and jeering at him, calling him a weak assed fuckin' pansy, and he was getting himself all worked up for nothing more than a cheap piece of skirt. But he knew it was a lot more than that- she wasn't just a piece of skirt. She'd earned his begrudging respect and more, and he was damned if he would act on his impulses...if only she would...
His eyes fluttered open in disbelief as he felt the whisper of a kiss at the side of his mouth and as he looked down at her, she stood back off her tiptoes and gave him a small little smile that did more than warm the hardness of his heart. Trepidation curled uneasily in his stomach, and his arm pushed her more firmly to him. He lowered his head slowly, his lips nothing more than a breath away from skimming across hers. He discovered that he badly wanted to know if she tasted as sweet as she sounded.
"Merle?" He froze as he heard a familiar voice reach him, and he glanced down at the woman in his arms, their faces less than an inch apart. "Where are ya, ya big dumb son of a bitch?"
Booted feet kicked through the thick undergrowth hurriedly, and turning his head from hers, Merle glanced over Carol's shoulder feeling her stiffen suddenly against his chest, and then he saw him. Daryl suddenly appeared through the treeline, standing there, his hand hesitantly tugging at the strap of his crossbow on his back, and he wasn't alone. That annoying fucking asshole sheriff was stood just behind him. He stifled back a groan of resentment as he watched as Rick looked at him thoughtfully, the gun in his hand lowering ever so slowly.
"Took ye long enough, baby brother," he grinned suddenly at Daryl. Reluctantly he lowered his arm from her, feeling a sliver of regret slip through him as she stepped back. She briefly glanced back at him, offering him another small tight smile, and Merle found his blood pulse thickly at her look.
Daryl edged closer, his eyes squinting and dragging from Carol to him, and then back again to her.
"Asshole," Daryl grunted, as Rick moved over to where Carol stood.
"Are you alright?" Rick asked her quietly, his eyes firmly riveted on the man stood just behind her.
Merle paced over angrily. "Course she's alright, what the hell did ya expect, Officer fuckwit?" He shrugged as he felt the other mans hot hateful glare. "Whoa," he chuckled, spreading his arms upwards, "Gonna arrest me? Gonna bust my ass and handcuff me? Well shit, ya already been gone an' done that," he spat waving his prosthetic arm wildly in the air.
"Don't tempt me Merle," Rick said as he placed one hand on Carol's shoulder, giving her a small squeeze. "Did he..?"
"Jesus Rick," she said abruptly, edging away from him so his hand flapped briefly at empty space. "He didn't do anything."
"Didn't look'it, from what I saw," Daryl drawled. He glared at Merle, "If ya touched her, hurt her, I swear..."
Merle huffed and looked as indignant as he felt. Well damn, he thought, jus' look at lil bro. "You gonna swear what, boy?" He laughed again as he saw Daryl's eyes hit the earth, refusing to look at him. "What ye gonna do, huh?"
"Stop it Merle," Carol said softly as she walked across to his brother. Daryl glanced up at her, a small smile playing about his lips.
Merle felt disappointment well up inside him as he watched them together. Carol's hand, the hand that had been on him a few moments ago was now resting on his little brothers arm, and he was surprised to see that his brother didn't so much as flinch from her touch. I'll be goddamned. His shoulders slumped wearily, "Ah hell...whatever," he sneered.
"You know, I actually am half tempted to 'cuff him and leave him for the walkers," Rick said almost brightly, tilting his head to one side staring at Merle narrowly, before turning on his heel and striding through the woods.
Merle huffed again, "You ain't got balls big enough p...Rick," he called out.
"Merle, just shut the fuck up brother," Daryl glowered, "I wouldn't blame him if he did, ya never do yaself any goddamned favors."
Carol's hand was still on his little brothers arm, and Merle watched as she ever so gently propelled him along the path, following after that shitty sheriff. His mouth twisted downwards sourly, and ignoring the sudden little spear of jealousy that spiked in his gut, he followed after them, never taking his eyes off the woman walking ahead with his brother.
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