Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

...

Merle lay on his bunk and groaned loudly, covering his eyes with his arm, wishing that for just another five more goddamned minutes everyone would just shut the hell up. He hadn't slept so well the night before, had listened to every little sound as the prison had slowly wound down and gone to sleep for the night. He had heard the steady thud of Rick's cowboy boots as the man had paced about restlessly, patrolling the floor every few minutes, and at one point he had wanted to rip those damned boots off him and ram them firmly up his ass. Anything to stop that constant irritating clack of his boots.

He rose off his bunk, walking steadily as sounds from the small kitchen area reached him. His eyes flashed narrowly as he took in the occupants of the room, relenting and softening as he saw Daryl sitting there with his back to him. Carol was stood at the small cooking hob, her face peaceful as she mindlessly stirred at a pot that he couldn't quite discern at the contents.

He paced stealthily across the room, pausing to nod at his brother, and press a finger briefly to his lips as he glanced across to the woman that stood there completely oblivious.

Daryl looked up at him, then shook his head, his eyes watching carefully.

Merle found that he just couldn't help himself as he sneaked across and stood silently behind Carol, glancing over her shoulder at the big pan of oatmeal she was stirring slowly. "What the hell is that?" he rasped loudly, smirking to himself as she jumped at the sound of his voice.

"It's breakfast, Merle," she answered, a little too breathlessly. "Keep that attitude up and you can go without."

He stepped away from her and headed off to one of the tables. Daryl was already sat there, chomping his way merrily through a bowl of the gray gruel. "Is that a promise?" he asked sweetly, looking back at her.

She just gave him a smile, her eyes almost sparkling and Merle found that he didn't mind that little look at all. Not one bit. He tore his gaze from hers. "Shove up Darlina," he grunted, pulling up a chair next to his brother. "Ye really eatin' that crap?" he asked quietly, frowning.

Daryl paused, the spoon half way to his mouth, and he glanced sideways at him, nodding. "Is good, man."

Merle huffed in answer, then watched as Carol walked across to where they sat, his eyes dropping briefly to the small amount of curve he could see as her long shirt flapped loosely away from her sides. He was mildly aware that Daryl had dug his elbow into him. "What?" he hissed. "Ain't you ever copped a look?"

"Excuse me?" Carol placed his bowl and spoon in front of him, looking at him with raised brows, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Said compliments to the cook," Merle said smoothly, ignoring the hard glance from his side. He picked his spoon up and dubiously raised a loaded spoonful up to his mouth. "Looks real fuckin' great," he said unenthusiastically.

"Just eat it ya dumbass," Daryl smirked at him, then resumed eating.

A chair was pulled abruptly from across where they sat, and Merle glanced over as he saw Hershel stood there leaning his crutches to the table top while he scooted his body into a chair. "Son, we are grateful for what we have, for what the Good Lord provides us with." Hershel smiled his thanks as Carol stepped over to him, passing him a bowl.

Merle rolled his eyes at that, then felt his arm being pushed at, but he ignored it, instead concentrating on trying to force the warm slimy food down his throat. Daryl nudged him sharply again, and he turned so quickly that he dropped the spoon with a clatter, most of the oatmeal sliding off the spoon on to the table, then into his lap. Merle growled and flicked his brother across the ear with his finger. "What the fuck little brother?"

"Going hunting after, if ya wanna come Merle," Daryl didn't look at him, just placed his spoon back into his empty bowl, and pushed it back across the table.

Merle felt surprised, but didn't let himself show it, "Huh, sure."

Daryl got to his feet, glancing down at him and nodding briefly. "A'right. Have a watch shift now, gonna relieve Maggie and Glenn." He paused, his eyes on Merle, then he quickly picked his crossbow off the floor, shoving the straps across his back as he walked out.

Merle pushed himself abruptly to his feet, the sudden need to be out of the room before Glenn and Maggie came in itching at him strongly. He brushed the sodden oatmeal off his pants irritably, raising his eyes as he heard Rick walk into the room. He didn't really have to look up to know who it was, he'd recognize that damned boot tread in his sleep by now.

"Do you want breakfast, Rick?" Carol asked, and Merle let his eyes drag over to her again, watching as she smiled at the shitty sheriff. Rick just shook his head, and Merle thought that was the first wise thing that man had done. No doubt, oatmeal certainly wasn't something he'd ever enjoyed.

"Merle?" Rick asked suddenly.

The urge just to walk off and completely ignore him was so damned strong, but as he looked up again, his eyes met Carol's and he felt compelled to let his feet just root to the spot. "What?" he answered succinctly.

"We need a hand at the gate, at the fences. We need them cleared of the walkers, and I was hoping that you would help. Carl is at the gate now. I'm sure you wouldn't mind helping him." Rick fixed him with a pointed look.

Merle could see the question in Carol's blue eyes, could see that she was almost urging him to agree. "Whatever," he sighed wearily. It wasn't lost on him at all that Rick had said, 'we need a hand'. Merle wanted to knock him off his feet. Instead he just stared at Rick for a split second longer than was required, before clenching his teeth and walking out of the prison block.

...

"Did you have an accident?" Carl asked as he stepped out into the sunlight. Merle frowned at the boy, then glanced down at himself. He had a small damp patch right at the groin of his pants.

"Very fuckin' funny kid. No I didn't," he grimaced. "Had a fight with Carol's cooking, and it won."

Carl looked at him mildly, his hand reaching up and pushing at the brim of the overly large sheriffs hat sitting on his head. Merle mused that the kid had no sense of humor, chip off the old block and all that shit. "Killed biters before, boy?"

"I'm a good shot, ask my dad," Carl said proudly, resting his hand on the holster at his waist.

"Hell...are ya even old enough to use that?" Merle hissed in surprise. Shit, what was the world coming to when the kid was packing firepower, and he wasn't? "Ain't using no guns, waste of a bullet." He felt a prickle of dread curl in his stomach- he'd nearly repeated word for word what they'd all been taught back in Woodbury all that time ago. He sickeningly wondered how long it would be before he could shake that devil Philip fuckin' Blake off his back.

"I am old enough. I mean, my mom wasn't very happy when Shane said I could use it."

Merle felt a smile curl at his lips, "Is that right, huh?" Yeah, he bet his mom and Rick hadn't had been so happy with that old dog teaching their son a few new tricks. "Bet'cha miss him, don't ya?"

Carl shook his head, "Not really. He threatened my dad, so I shot him."

Merle nearly tripped over his own feet as he walked over to the gate. "Yer shittin' me kid?" He glanced at Carl and was surprised to see the indifference in the young boys bright eyes. "Huh. Well, jus' you keep that gun stashed. Don't need it anyway. Gonna pig stick these biters."

He watched as Carl pulled a long knife from his belt, and nodded at him curtly before stepping to the gate, rattling it loudly with his hand. He felt a grim satisfaction as a few of the biters turned their heads slowly, their filthy hands reaching out towards them greedily as they lumbered across to the gate. "C'mon ya ugly bitches," he jeered, quickly grinning at Carl, "Ooh, look at that one, looks like she jus' wants a damn good poke from ole Merle." He laughed as the biter thrust its rotting hands at him, before thrusting the blade on his arm swiftly through its eye socket, pulling the blade free with a succulent squelch and spray of sticky blood.

He stabbed at a few more, chuckling as the bodies crashed into tangled moldy heaps on to the ground. He glanced quickly across to Carl noting that he was all right, before turning his head and stabbing at a particularly gruesome biter that was trying to press its heavily decomposed face through the fencing. He stared at it, seeing with distaste that as it pressed nearer, its teeth clacking loudly at him, that he could see strips of its mottled gray skin clinging to the metal of the fence. He tapped at it with his blade, watching as its muddy eyes ignored him, then thrust the blade upwards, straight through its stinking throat, the tip of his blade popping audibly outwards from the top its head. Merle pulled his arm back and huffed at it as he watched the body drop, then with his hand he rattled at the gate, quickly moving as a biter raised its clutching fingers and clawed loosely at the spot where his hand had just been. He stabbed at it, slicing it cleanly through its forehead, and then he smacked his hand loudly on the fence, "Hell yeah!" he spat.

The boy was doing pretty well he thought, as he watched as Carl stabbed at the biters along the fence line. Kid didn't exactly have the same reach as he did, on account of him being, well a snotty nosed brat, but shit yeah, he was doing well enough. Merle jeered at them again, "Ya ugly shits, come and get a taste," before thrusting and stabbing merrily at the undead fuckers.

It wasn't long before they had a reasonable enough body count just beyond the fence and gate, and Merle stepped back and briefly swatted at the sweat on his brow. The kid hadn't had seemed to have worked up as much as a sweat. Slacker, he thought, his own body count was way more.

"Shouldn't we, um..." Carl stood hesitantly, holding his knife loosely in his hand. "I mean, there are walkers now blocking the gates and really we should move them." He turned and looked at Merle, his gaze level, "If the others want to use the cars, the bodies are blocking the way."

"Huh, good point," Merle conceded reluctantly. "Gotta unlock the gate first kid, we'll move 'em out'a the way."

Carl had a bunch of keys in his hand, and he stepped quickly forward, unlocking the padlock. He stood there looking up at him expectantly and waiting.

For a second Merle toyed with the idea of just sending the boy out there, let him finally work up a sweat shifting those bodies, before reason settled begrudgingly in him. "Yeah, yeah, don't get yer pantyhose in a knot, I got this."

The gate wobbled and grated alarmingly, before Carl put his shoulder to it and pushed it open just enough for Merle step through. He watched with narrowed eyes as the kid pushed it back shut, his eyes flickering down to the keys in Carl's hand. The boy just nodded back at him, and Merle sighed as he glanced over at the bodies.

There were about six or seven that were actually blocking the path through the gate, and Merle swept his gaze past them and down over the small field that lay beyond. Biters were straggling and milling about, but they were still a reasonable enough distance away for him to be able to do this. He bent down, grunting mildly as he grasped one dirty decaying foot in his grasp and he dragged it across the ground, his eyes half seeing the bloodied imprint it left behind as he pulled the corpse to the side and out of the way.

He glanced down towards the main gates, his eyes alert for any more of the biters, and he saw that they were still some distance away, and from the seems of it, he'd be lucky enough to clear these out the way long before they even noticed he was there. Dumb fucks, he smiled to himself as he grasped another rotting leg and hauled the body across the ground.

It didn't take that long to move the rest of the corpses out of the way, and he was dimly aware that he was sweating and his hand, arms and chest were now covered in stinky congealed goo. He glanced at Carl, who stood there watching him with the keys in his hand, and for one minute, Merle felt a small thrill spread through him as he wondered if the kid would just go and lock him out there. But Carl stepped quickly to the gate, pulling it open and letting him back through. Merle breathed a small quick silent thanks to whatever gods were listening, wiping the drying blood off his blade onto the leg of his pants as he watched Carl finally pull the gate shut and lock it with the padlock.

"Ya did good, kid," he said, briefly patting the boy on his back.

Carl looked at him, before offering him a small tight lipped smile and a slight incline of his head, before he walked away, pushing the keys into his pocket.

…

Merle stunk. And he was painfully aware of the fact that he reeked to high heaven of sweat and biter gunk. He made his way through the prison, thankful for the dimness and coolness of the interior of the prison as he walked his way through to the shower room. For once, he offered a silent thanks to the fact that officer prick had been diligent enough to actually have cleared this place. And as he pulled his dirty clothes off and stepped underneath the cool water, he actually allowed himself a small smile.

He didn't have any shampoo or any of that other girly smelling shit, but he found he didn't mind so much as the water sluiced his body clean. That was until he remembered that he hadn't thought to ask or find any towels to dry himself off with.

Grumbling he shook himself dry as best as he could, before tugging and pulling his clothes back on over his damp body. It would have been much quicker if he still had the use of two hands, and for the millionth time he raged at the loss of his right fuckin' hand. He would never ask for help, asking for help was for fuckin' pussies, and he was damned if he would. Ever. Period.

Feeling somewhat irritable, he strode from the shower block, not even glancing as he collided solidly and firmly with someone who obviously wasn't paying any goddamned attention to where they were going. His breath was rammed out of his chest at the same time as his arm automatically swept out and caught at the woman, shoving her firmly to him. He glanced down, his feet shuffling over each other as he stopped himself from stumbling, and he grinned widely as he saw it was none other than Carol wrapped up in his arms.

"Hey sugar," he felt his voice almost purr out of his chest, and he coughed a little, feeling mildly embarrassed. She looked up at him in sheer alarm, her eyes widening, before she let herself relax moderately in his arms.

"Merle! I didn't see you," she gasped, and he found that he couldn't help but smirk at her.

"What ya doing down here?" he questioned.

"Oh," she looked down, and he saw a faint pink sheen spread across her cheeks. "I...I was going to do the laundry. Carl and Rick have a habit of leaving their dirty towels in the shower room."

He laughed, "You weren't spying on me now, were ya darlin'?"

Carol placed her hands on his arms and pushed herself away from him. "No, no I wasn't," she answered shortly, shaking her head at him.

"Huh," Merle grunted, "Why ya gotta keep on an' disappointin' me? Shit, if ya wanna look, you don't have to be so sneaky 'bout it. I'd let ya peek."

"Really Merle," she laughed, stepping back another pace. Her eyes met his, and he found that he couldn't quite pull his gaze away from hers. For the second time he thought she really did have the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen. "I heard you were outside the gates with Carl. Are you alright?" her eyes dropped from his, and dragged briefly across his bloodied clothes. "You didn't get scratched or bitten?"

"Naw, I ain't got no bites on me. Not unless ya wanna put some there?" He quirked an eyebrow at her quizzically.

Carol laughed again, shaking her head at him. He shifted a little on his feet, and she looked at him thoughtfully, her voice quiet as she said, "I'm glad you're okay." He thought he could hear a hint of alarm in her voice.

"Ain't none gonna kill Merle except Merle, sweetheart," he rasped softly, "An' I know jus' what a stubborn fucker he is."

"Don't joke about that, Merle," she said suddenly, and he felt his head pull towards hers at the tone of her voice.

He shook his head at her," I ain't." She smiled at him sadly, and he found he couldn't bear to see the earnest little look she shot him.

She paused, her hand reaching hesitantly out and catching at his. Her hand was cool. Her eyes flashed up at his, a brilliant burst of blue, sending unbidden little spikes that sped through his blood. "Don't you ever joke about that, Merle," she repeated quietly, her hand slipping slowly from his. She offered him another small wan smile and Merle found that he couldn't help but stand transfixed from her gaze.

His eyes followed her until she disappeared from his vision. He swallowed thickly then, and turned away.

...