Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.
a/n: Originally I had written a scene that was going to be used in this chapter, where Merle thinks about when he first got the bayonet for his prosthetic arm. The scene is in Woodbury with Merle, the Governor, Penny and Milton. I was going to use it as either a flashback, or a dream type of sequence, but after writing a little over 2500 words, I have realized that I cannot possibly use it here due to its length, and I really do not want to just take pieces from it. So now that scene is sitting in a file on my desktop, and I am a little unsure as to what to do with it right now. I am considering maybe posting it separately, as an almost companion sort of one-shot to go along with this fic, especially in regards to this particular chapter.
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Further a/n: I posted this chapter and had a niggling feel that something really was not quite right with it. And after quite a few hours of posting it, I finally saw what it was. Alot of the end scene had to be totally re-written, so instead of just modifying it on the site, I felt I had no option but to pull and delete the chapter, and then spend quite a few hours of today re-writing and editing. I feel a little bit better with the outcome of this chapter now.
I don't have a beta- and sometimes you as the writer really do miss things in a story that don't come across as how you originally planned it. Sometimes it takes a few hours/days to realize the mistake. Unfortunately this was one of those times, and I hope now that I have finally rectified it.
My apologies.
...
Merle sat on the tabletop in the workshop, the bayonet resting across his lap, and he was looking at it sullenly, remembering all to well when he'd been given his first blade back in Woodbury. At that time, he had no idea what was going to happen, and even if he'd known, he doubted now that he would have changed anything. His first kill had given him unsettled sleep for a few days, but he'd known that he'd have to do bad shit if he wanted to survive there.
He ran one finger across the now sharpened and cleaned up blade-it had taken him hours, but he had worked at it doggedly, knowing that this simple thing could mean life or death for him. He had felt useless and an inconvenience to everybody without his prosthetic arm, without the blade-and now that he had both back-it meant that shit was a whole lot different again.
"Merle? Where ya hiding at, brother?"
He looked up and smiled at the sound of his brothers voice. "In here, Darlina," he grunted, watching as Daryl turned the corner and walked through the propped open door.
"Got ya arm back," Daryl stated mildly as he moved across the room and leaned against the table Merle was sat on.
"Yeah. Ya don't know how much I missed the damn thing."
His brother raised his brows as he looked at him, a small smile touching at his lips. "Reckon I do, Merle."
"Say Daryl, pass me that sheath, will ya?" Merle asked, pointing to a nearby table.
"Lazy fuckin' ass," Daryl said as he went and retrieved it, handing it to his brother.
Merle smirked as he took the leather sheath, resting and gripping it between his knees as he slipped the bayonet inside. He'd wear it on the belt at his waist-that way the blade would always be at hand, even if he was using the prosthetic without it.
"Going on another run with Michonne?" he asked, looking at Daryl carefully.
Daryl sighed. "I dunno man. I don't know if there's any point. It's like he's just gone disappeared. We found tracks of a camp a few days back."
Merle looked at him sharply, "Did ya find anything?"
"Nah," Daryl shook his head. "Camp been gone a few days, tracks were getting old. It might have been anything, Merle. Don't mean it was him, ya know?"
"But it could'a been," Merle huffed quietly. He glanced away from his brother, staring across the workshop. "How far away?"
"Thirty odd mile, maybe more. Tracks were going opposite direction. We didn't see anything else, we looked, but nothing brother."
"Ya mean, closer to Woodbury than the Prison?" Merle asked curiously.
Daryl shrugged, "Like I said Merle, it don't mean no damn thing. Reckon the Governor gonna keep circling his own town? He destroyed it. Could just be coincidence, maybe a small group lost, or passin' through. We didn't find any other signs, and we'd tracked the hell out'a that area."
Merle pushed himself off the table, his boots thumping the ground. He grabbed at the sheathed bayonet, adjusting and awkwardly attaching it to his belt. "If yer gonna go back out there Daryl, I'll come with ya."
His brother looked at him in surprise, "Can go again in the morning, if ya want. I dunno if 'Chonne will wanna come, not with yer ugly miserable ass in tow."
"Fuck you, Darlina," Merle grinned suddenly. "How do you know that woman ain't got no little thing going on 'bout me? I seen how she looks at-"
"Ya know Merle, yer always full of bullshit," Daryl smirked briefly. "She ain't done looking at ya in any damned way." He scuffed his feet, glancing at Merle and looking away quickly, peering at the ground, his eyes partially hidden by dark strands of hair. "How's it going...with Carol?" he asked quickly.
Merle stiffened at the question, his hand fidgeting at the sheathed bayonet. His fingers tapped on the hilt, before he raised his hand and smoothed his palm over the thick stubble on his chin. "Is alright."
"Ya ain't fuckin' with her?"
"Huh?" Merle gaped in shock. "What the hell do ya mean, Daryl?"
Daryl shrugged, "Ya ain't messing her round? Ya dumbass. She's a good woman, better than you deserve."
"Yeah, I knew that," Merle huffed. He knew damn well that Carol was way better than he deserved, he still couldn't figure out why she'd go anywhere near his stupid redneck ass-he was only grateful that she did. "An' I ain't messin' her round. Shit brother, what the hell do ya take me for?"
Daryl raised his head and met his gaze, and Merle found that he couldn't quite meet the earnest way he was looking at him, so he dropped his eyes away. "She's good for ya, Merle. You've changed, an' I like to think it's because of her. Do ya care about her? Cause I ain't having you going and giving her any of yer shit and hurting her."
"I don't know," Merle answered sharply, feeling uncomfortable with this new line of direction in their conversation. He wished Daryl would either shut up, or talk about some different crap.
"What ya mean, ya don't know?" Daryl asked irritably.
Merle let out a long sigh. "Of course I fuckin' know brother. But talking 'bout shit like this is for goddamn pussies."
"Maybe," Daryl grunted, "But ya still ain't been and told me."
"You ain't gonna let this drop, huh?"
Daryl shook his head, "No."
"Fucks sake, Daryl," Merle growled as he pushed past him and made for the entrance. He stopped, placing his hand on the door frame, listening to his brothers boot treads behind him. "Yeah, little brother, I think I do. Alright? Now can we jus' go an' drop this shit? I'm done talking 'bout it."
"A'right," Daryl said as he walked past him into the corridor, and Merle watched him warily. "But I'm tellin' ya Merle, you look after her, 'cause if ya don't?" he warned.
"Hell, I ain't gonna go an' do any damn thing," Merle spat. They stared at each other for a moment, and Merle met his brothers gaze this time without breaking away.
"C'mon brother," Daryl replied eventually. "Reckon it's about time for food. Saw them women in the cafeteria doin' summat."
Merle rolled his eyes, and he turned to follow after his brother.
…
Daryl had been right, a few of the women from Woodbury had been busy preparing food, and Merle watched in amusement as his brother was one of the first to be served a large bowl of stew. And now he was sat next to him at a table, trying to ignore the slurping noises emanating from his side.
"Is it that good, Darlina?" he asked wryly, idly shifting his spoon through his own plate of stew.
Daryl nodded, glancing at his bowl, "Ya gonna eat that, Merle?"
Merle curled his hand around his bowl, dragging it away from his brother and nearer to him, "Yeah, if ya want more, go an' get yer own."
He watched as Daryl shoved his chair away from him, taking his bowl and heading back off towards the women. He noticed how they smiled at him, and Merle sighed. As awkward as his brother was with women, they seemed to be drawn to him regardless. It had always been that way.
He glanced away, sitting upright in his seat as he saw Carol walk into the room with Tyreese close to her side, holding Rick's brat in her arms. He narrowed his eyes as he saw them laugh together, watched as the other man leaned to her and touched at the baby's cheek with his fingers.
Carol looked over to him and smiled, turning briefly to Tyreese and she said something that Merle couldn't quite catch, before coming across and sitting down next to him.
"Why ya got Rick's kid?" he grunted, looking away from her and studying his food. "Can't that damn man look after his own brat?"
"Merle," she chided, "Stop it." She held Judith to her, her eyes soft as she looked at the baby. "I was just talking to Tyreese."
"Yeah, I saw."
She raised an eyebrow at him, before continuing. "I'm going on a run in the morning with him and his sister. We really need to get some warmer clothing for the children."
"As long as it don't go to shit like yer last run," he said, watching as she got to her feet. He frowned, "Where the fuck ya going now?"
"Quiet, don't wake her," she said quietly. "I'm going to put her down in her cot in Rick's cell." She patted at his shoulder as she moved past him.
He watched as she moved away, his eyes dropping down to her ass. He liked the way that she moved. He felt his arm nudged and he looked up as his brother took his seat next to him, Daryl's eyes following his line of vision.
"Ya still gonna come with us tomorrow?" He asked.
"I said I was, Darlina. Ain't nothing changed since then."
"I just gotta ask Michonne if she still wants to come," Daryl answered.
Merle huffed, "I think I got a few more damn reasons for wanting to find him than she does." He wanted badly to find Blake, and he thought for a moment on what exactly he would do if he found him.
Carol came back across towards them, and Merle was relieved to see that she had no baby in tow. She paused at his brothers side, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder, and he saw the way that they both smiled at each other, feeling a pang of jealousy. He knew that it was stupid, but he found that he couldn't help himself. It seemed to him, that no matter what they were together- and if he was honest, he was still pretty unsure on exactly what the hell that was...his brother and her had a different type of bond that he felt he couldn't ever hope to match.
She pulled up a chair next to him, sitting and resting her hands on the tabletop. "So where is Rick?" he asked, "Ain't got no time for his own damn kid? Typical," he muttered.
"Ain't seen him," Daryl answered. "But if we're gonna go in the morning, really need'a say summat to him."
"Why the fuck? We ain't answerable to him, little brother," Merle bit back.
"You're going on a run?" Carol asked, glancing quickly at Merle.
Daryl shifted in his seat a little, "Yeah we are. Just like I've been doing with 'Chonne. Looking for the Governor. Merle said he'd come along. I don't know long we'll be gone."
"Merle didn't say," she said tightly, and Merle glanced irritably at her, relenting when he saw the worry shining in her eyes as she looked back at him. He reached under the table, his hand touching at her knee, and he squeezed her leg, hoping to reassure her.
"I only jus' found out off my brother," he said. "It'll be fine, don't ya worry, mouse."
Her cheeks flamed a little at that, and Merle found a small smile start to tug at his mouth at her look.
Daryl glanced at them both, rolling his eyes.
"Carol?"
Merle looked up quickly at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing angrily. Scott had come over to them, and was now leaning with his hands resting on the table, close to Carol's.
"What the fuck do ya want?" he growled, ignoring the look his brother gave him. "Ain't ya got some where else to go?"
Scott smiled briefly as he ignored him, twisting his head to gaze at Carol. "Say? You still on for tomorrow?"
"Wouldn't miss it. I've already spoken to Tyreese," she answered softly, smiling back at him.
"Wouldn't miss what exactly?" Merle asked narrowly.
Carol looked at him and laughed at the expression on his face, "I told you, I'm going on a run in the morning-"
"Yeah, but I thought it was just Tyreese an' his sister," Merle questioned.
"Well yes, but Scott is coming too."
Like fuck, Merle thought angrily. He saw the way that Scott was looking at her, and he wanted nothing more than to pound his ass to the ground.
"There isn't a going to be a problem, is there?" Scott looked at him thoughtfully and smiled.
"Nah, just my brother being a dumbass as usual," Daryl answered.
Merle stiffened in his seat. The little cunt knew exactly what he was doing. He saw it in the way that he was looking at him. Merle wasn't fooled. And neither was he going to let that shit happen. He didn't want Scott anywhere near her...didn't trust what Scott would say. Yeah, he'd seen him at Woodbury, and Merle was under no illusion about any of that crap. He'd done plenty of bad things, and he didn't want Carol to know. In case she might just go and leave him, abandon him, and Merle didn't want that to happen. Not now.
"Ain't no problem," he said quickly.
"Well, that's good," Scott grinned. He paused, glancing back at Carol, "So, I guess we will see you in the morning?"
She nodded, and Merle just wanted the fucker to go. He watched as Scott eased his hands away from the table, watched as he ran one hand through his hair as he paced away.
"Ya ain't going," he said quietly to her as soon as Scott was out of ear range.
Carol frowned at him, "Excuse me?"
Merle narrowed his eyes, "I told ya, ya ain't going."
"Brother," Daryl warned.
"I think I heard you the first time, Merle."
"Good. So that's settled."
"Like hell it is. What's gotten into you, Merle?" she asked, frowning at him.
Merle was aware that Daryl was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I need'a go and find 'Chonne. Merle, ya remember what the fuck I told ya."
"Whatever," Merle answered back, ignoring the look his brother gave him.
"I ain't joking," Daryl warned as he got to his feet. He shook his head as he walked out of the room.
Merle watched his brothers back retreat into the distance, before turning back to her. "I ain't wanting ya to go. That should be enough for ya," Merle snapped.
"You don't get to tell me what I can, or cannot do, Merle," Carol breathed quickly, and Merle was surprised to see the annoyance on her face, how it lit two small pink dots high on her cheekbones."You don't have no say in what I do-"
"Oh, is that right now, darlin'? I don't give a shit. I told ya, ya ain't going. An' that's that. Quit arguing with me, woman."
"Screw you, Merle," Carol answered, as she got to her feet and edged away from him.
"I ain't done talking to ya!" Merle retorted loudly, suddenly aware that the few people in the room were now watching them with an almost rapt interest.
Carol paused for a moment, before jabbing at his chest with one finger. Her gaze fixed firmly on his. "I'm going tomorrow, and I certainly don't need your goddamn permission, Merle."
He gaped narrowly at her as she stalked off, and he looked around the room, seeing the sudden gossiping smiles on the others faces. "What the fuck y'all lookin' at?" he hissed, pushing his way from the table, and striding off into the opposite direction.
…
He found himself at her cell, the thick blanket now covering the bars and the cell door. He stopped for a moment... it had been a few hours since their 'spat' and Merle had found that it sat uncomfortably with him. He really didn't want her to go. Not with that bastard. He admitted to himself that he was worried that she would believe whatever crap Scott would tell her, and he didn't want her to go and believe whatever the hell she was told. If anyone was going to tell her about Woodbury, it would be him. He resented the fact that it felt like his hand was being damn well forced.
Merle sighed. Why the hell did shit have to be so damned difficult. Why couldn't it just be easy. For once in his miserable life-he'd found a woman that he actually cared for and gave two shits about.
He pushed the blanket at her doorway and stepped through, squinting his eyes in the semi-darkness, even though she had a small hurricane lamp dimly lit at her make shift nightstand.
"Merle?" She asked sleepily, "Is that you?"
He glanced at the dim shape in the bunk, narrowing his eyes. "Who the hell else where ya expecting?"
She ignored him. "Why are you here?"
"I want some sleep," Merle grunted as he reached out and nudged her across her bunk. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, fumbling at the laces on his boots.
Carol yawned, sitting up on the mattress. She raised an eyebrow and watched him. "You know this isn't your cell."
"I know that," he said, kicking his boots off. He turned to look at her, "But I ain't seen ya since earlier," he frowned.
"And who's fault is that?" she asked wryly,
Merle sighed, "I told ya before that I'm an asshole, Carol. I can't help it." He shrugged and looked quickly away from her, staring at the floor. "I've missed ya," he said uncomfortably.
She moved up the bunk, leaning and pressing her head to his shoulder, her arm slipping around his waist, and Merle let himself sag a little against her. He closed his eyes briefly to the sensation of her fingers on the nape of his neck, softly stroking.
"Merle, I just wish you would tell me what is wrong," she said quietly.
He fell silent. He didn't want to answer her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he just didn't trust that little faggot Scott. He'd thought that his past would have left him alone the moment when he'd joined back with the prison group after trying to take down the Governor-but it seemed that karma and all that shit weren't quite done with him.
He shifted himself against her, watching as she moved into his embrace. His hand slipped about her waist, tugging her closer to him. "Carol," he said.
"What? I'm still annoyed with you."
"Huh. I don't want ya to be," he slipped his hand underneath her tank top, his fingers stroking at the smooth warm skin at her waist. "I jus'...hell I jus' don't want ya to go tomorrow, is all," he grumbled.
She pushed his hand away, before turning to face him. Her breath softly brushed his cheek. "Why?"
He frowned before quickly pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'm goin' with Daryl and Michonne in the morning. An' maybe, I want ya to come with me, instead of going off with those fuckin' jackasses."
Carol touched at his cheek, her fingers stroking across his thick graying stubble. "Alright," she sighed after a moment. "If it's that important to you Merle, I wont go with Tyreese. I'll go with you. But you have to be honest and tell me what's wrong."
"I will tell ya," he grunted. He leant to her and kissed her, briefly relishing the softness of her mouth on his. He broke away quickly, dropping his arms from her, and pushing himself off the bunk.
Carol watched him in amusement, "Where are you going?"
"Back to my cell. Ya ain't wanting me here, an' we both need to get some sleep."
"I didn't say I wanted you to go, Merle," she said, patting at the empty space on her bunk. "Come back."
He raised his eyebrows as he paced back towards her, "Look, I ain't no good at all with this kinda crap, but I...hell...I'm sorry, alright."
"I'm sorry too, Merle," she answered back hesitantly. Merle could see in the dim light the faint pink flush tinting her cheeks.
It seemed to him, that she was almost just as bad at this as what he was, and he felt a small degree of comfort in that. Merle glanced at her, before tugging his shirt and pants off, dropping them to the floor, then unbuckling the thick leather straps of his prosthetic arm. He took the limb off and placed it next to the lamp, turning the light off and bathing the small room in sudden darkness.
He lowered himself to her bunk, half tugging the blanket away from her and covering himself. He scooped his stump under his head, cushioning himself. "C'mere," he growled. She crept into his embrace, her head resting on his chest, and he curled his arm around her shoulders, his fingers touching and stroking her arm.
"You wanted to know," he said tightly, "An' I said I'd tell ya."
She shifted a little on his chest, her hand catching out and twisting the material of his wife-beater in her fingers. "Merle...you don't have to-"
"No honey, I do. Didn't want ya to go, 'cause I...huh, well I got my reasons," he said lamely.
She frowned against him, "Well that isn't much of an answer."
Merle grit his teeth and tried again. "I jus' don't want ya around Scott." There he'd said it, as much as it made him feel damn well awkward.
He felt her move against him, and she propped herself up on one elbow, leaning over him. "Why? He's always seemed okay with me."
"He ain't. I don't trust him around ya, darlin'."
She laughed softly, and leant down, kissing him quickly. "You're not jealous, are you?"
Merle huffed, "Jealous? I ain't got no reason to be jealous. Yer my woman." He stiffened as he realized what he'd just said, and he waited cautiously for her answer, his fingers inching up her back and trailing slowly down her spine.
"I said it before Merle, you really are a romantic." She cupped his chin, turning his head, and she kissed him, her lips gently brushing across his.
He slipped his arm around her back, pulling her down to him firmly. "You are though, ain't ya?" he asked, his heart starting to thud heavily in his chest.
"I don't know...well, I suppose I am. Yes," she answered softly. "But it doesn't give you any right to talk to me the way that you did. I went through enough with Ed."
"I ain't him, Carol. I'd never damn well hurt ya," he growled.
She pressed her head to his chest again, her arm slipping loosely around his waist, "I know," she said. "Merle... this with Scott? You have to be honest with me. Has this got anything to do with that time in the watchtower?"
"Ya mean when I hit him?"
"Yeah." Her fingers caught in his wife-beater, twisting the material, before she let it go and smoothed her hand across his chest.
"I didn't expect to see him, not with the Woodbury folks. I know of him from back then-an' it anythin' good, mouse. Look, I jus' need ya to trust me when I tell ya to keep away from him. Don't ya go trusting anythin' he gotta say to ya."
"Okay. I don't understand Merle, but okay. I said that I trust you, and I do. I'll keep an eye on him."
He turned his head to hers, his lips pressing the faintest of kisses to the side of her head. Her hair tickled softly against his nose; her curls soft, and he breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. His arm tightened around her, and he felt her snuggle further into him, all the while his heart pounding painfully in his chest.
…