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Chapter Text

You and your father drove down the barren road ahead of you, leaves flying up from behind. The street obviously hadn't been cared for in months. But you weren't too surprised. Months, who knew how many, had passed since the outbreak occurred. People died left and right.

You lost quite a bit of family. But you had your dad and he had you, and maybe that's all you needed now. You were happy to still have someone.

The windows of the car were rolled down, allowing some breeze to filter through. Your father glanced over and noticed the goosebumps on your arms. He smiled a little, as he looked back ahead of you both.

"You cold? I can roll up the windows and I can turn on some tunes." Your father offered, as he turned onto another road, the continuous path of trees never ending.

"We can roll up the windows, but I'm not really up for tunes right now..." You leaned your elbow on the rest that jutted out from the car and looked out the window. Your father rolled up the windows, blocking out the chill from outside.

You were having one of those moments. Those moments where you think about what's happened, what you've seen. And then you wonder... Is it really worth going on? You had your father, but one day, you knew you wouldn't have each other. Would all this sacrifice you've made have been worth it?

"Something wrong, kiddo?" Your father asked, worry genuinely in his voice. Your father was stronger than you emotionally. He was always there to comfort you, but you knew he hurt the same. Some nights when you couldn't get to sleep, you'd hear him quietly leave the room you shared and cried in the hallway. You wanted to comfort him, but you knew he wanted to be the strong one for the both of you.

You wouldn't stop him, but if it ever got bad, you would be there for him.

"Thinking about Mom... Remember how you'd ask her a little question, like did you pick up the kids today?" You smiled a little at the thought, imagining your Mom sitting on the couch as Dad came home and made small talk. You'd be lacing up your shoes for the recreation center. "She'd go on those long tangents. There wasn't a yes or no."

"It always started with a, 'You wouldn't believe what happened.'" Your father chuckled. "She always found some thing to rant about, someone always drove her mad."

"Yeah, they did... And after you'd get home, I would head out to practice rock climbing with my team." You frowned as you tapped your fingers against the dashboard. "I missed that... I bet my muscles have slackened. I might've lost my grip."

"But you'd get it right back if you'd got the chance to practice." Your father assured. "When things get better."

"Yeah... When things get better..." You trailed off as your thoughts began to grow dark. Nothing would become better. Silence filled between the both of you for a moment, before your father sighed.

"___-" He cut himself off as you both heard a commotion from ahead. You both stayed silent as your father slowed his driving to quiet the vehicle. Once you heard it, you knew what it was. Music. "Sounds like... Ted Nugent?"

"There's people down there." You stated.

"Or the undead hit a car, causing the radio to turn on." Your father countered.

"But would it hurt to check? What if there's some people down there that need help or who can help us?" You asked, sitting up and looking to your father with a frown.

"We're fine, ___. We don't need anyone else's help." Your father stated, a threat to his words. He saw the look you were giving him and he shook his head. "It could be a trap, to lure in innocent survivors. Just like that Terminus place. We're smarter than that."

"Not everyone is like Terminus, Dad..." You bit your lip and looked out the window for any sign of people or the music. Your father drove up to a fork in the road and the music was more frequent to the right of you. You hesitated before looking to your dad. "Please, Dad, let's check."

"___, I'm not gonna allow us to be killed, not even gonna take the chance." Your father shook his head, as he began to turn the vehicle left onto the road. Before you could make progress onto the road, you both heard the squeaking of tires, the music growing, and then the sound of metal making some hard impact. Your dad stopped the car and you both glanced back to see a car crushed against a tree, some undead began to walk up to it. But you could see one thing clearly, a man was slumped over his steering wheel, clearly incapacitated.

You didn't even bother to ask your dad. You swung open the door, your hand going to your pocket for your small gun and you rushed over. You heard your father's shouts as you made your way to the vehicle. You shot the two undead, straight in the head, who were nearing the driver's side. You tugged open the driver's door, glad to see the crash didn't damage it so much it couldn't be used.

You looked over the man. He was older than you, probably slightly younger than your father. He was out and you were afraid for a moment that he was dead. The blood trailing out of his lips were not a good sign. You pressed your fingers against his neck and tried to feel for something.

You felt a beat.

You sighed and ducked down, pulling one of the man's arms over your shoulder as you tried to attempt to pull him out of the vehicle. He was much larger than you anticipated and you almost dropped him if your father hadn't come to the other side. You looked to your father and he gave you a pissed off, but determined look. He was going to help you. You both quickly head back to your car, most of the undead more interested in the crash sight.

The man between the both of you groaned in pain as you moved him. You glanced at the man's arm that was over your shoulder and gasped a little. Where his hand was was a metal contraption, a long blade extended from the metal gauntlet. This guy was a literal weapon. You reached your car and opened the backseat, your father taking the weight of the man and getting him inside. You grabbed a zip-tie from the jockey box and handed it to your father as your father briefly checked the man.

"He's hurt." Your father started, as he zip-tied the man's hand to a handle on the metal contraption, behind his back. "I can't inspect him here, but he's got a bad injury. He might..."

"How long?" You asked.

"He might've broken his ribs... If it was bad enough... In an hour he might die, but if not he can push through. But to fix it properly it needs to be mended soon." You father explained. You were so glad to have an orthopedic surgeon as a relative.

"I'll take the wheel, if you want to better check his injuries. I can get us to the house in thirty minutes." You stated, more than offered as you made your way to the driver's seat.

"Fine." Your father slammed the passenger door shut as he climbed into the back seat beside the man. He carefully removed the knife from the man's gauntlet. "But don't do any risky driving, I don't want to accidentally injure him more."

"Got it. Fast, but careful." You shifted the car from park to drive, making your way down the street. In the direction of home.

~One Hour Later~

No one was hurt on the ride home and your father had found the area of injury fairly quickly. The man had fractured a couple of his ribs and the bruising was already beginning to form across his chest. Once home, in your nice cabin hidden in the woods, your father properly inspected the man. You were sent out of the room for some parts. The man had no bites, was perfectly healthy, and despite his age he could properly take you both out with the zip-tie gone.

Except maybe if he wasn't injured.

"He was drunk." Your father explained. "I could smell the alcohol on his breathe. That's why he crashed into that tree. I doubt he could see straight."

The man always made a noise of discomfort when he moved, proving how much the injury really pained him. He couldn't strain himself, so he wouldn't be able to hurt you both.

"So, why can't we remove the zip-tie?" You had asked your father.

"I will, I just want to lay down some ground rules first when he wakes up. If he understands and agrees, I'll take the zip-tie off." Your father had answered.

"And if he disagrees?" Your father didn't answer that.

So now, while your father cleaned up, you decided to get a better look at the man. You sat down close beside him and inspected his clothes first. He wore a white wife-beater with a black button-up, that was completely undone over it. Long khaki cargo pants reached his feet, covering black military boots. His clothes weren't the cleanest, but they weren't ragged either.

You decided to move onto his physical features. He was fair-skinned with light hair on his head, his stubble matched. He had stress lines etched across his forehead, further implying that he was older. And though he wasn't a muscle-head, you could tell that he wasn't someone to get in a fight with. He certainly wasn't bad looking from first glance, but you couldn't judge a person by their looks.

You'd have to see how he was while he was up.

You glanced at the uncovered arm where his metal contraption had been. There sat a stump, an arm without its hand, it was scarred over and it didn't look like the loss of the limb wasn't so long ago. You looked away, trying to put it out of your mind and not stare.

The man was placed in the guest bed as he continued to rest. Your father and you brought all your weaponry to your shared room, before putting a chair up to the door and getting ready for bed.

"Even zip-tied. He could cause trouble." Your father reasoned.

Checking on him last, the man wasn't about to wake up anytime soon. And that was probably for the best, he needed the rest with those fractured ribs. You climbed into your bed that was across the room from your father's bed and tried to get some sleep. The stranger was bound to wake up tomorrow, it would be good to be rested for that. You closed your eyes and your questioning thoughts helped you drift to sleep.

~Merle's P.O.V.~

I just want my brother back...

The words rung through his head, as Merle shifted his head slightly. He was somewhere silent, but something bright was hitting his eyes. Shifting his head got rid of the brightness, but he felt something soft against the side of his head. Sheets? Since when...

Merle's eyes snapped open, as he almost flew into a sitting up position. But that was prevented by a striking pain in his chest. Merle let out a cry of pain as he rested back against the bed. He then felt the tie around his one-handed wrist to the head of the bed, and tried to pull it apart, but realizing it was a zip-tie caused him to growl slightly.

"You're hurt, it's best to stop struggling." A voice spoke up. Merle snapped his head over to look at the doorway to the room. An unfamiliar man stood at its entrance, sharpening a knife, watching Merle with a warning look. "Now... I'm going to ask you a few questions. Answer them honestly and I can get you out of that tie."

"Who are you?" Merle hissed. "And what do you want with me?"

"You may refer to me as Doctor, because that is what I am to you. You got in a car crash and we saved you. I honestly want nothing to do with you, but circumstances have changed..." The new man, Doctor, cleared his throat as he eyed Merle. "What's your name?"

"... Merle Dixon." Merle didn't see any good in lying. If Doctor could tell he was lying, he could be hurt and really, what could this guy do with the info?

"You've killed the undead?"

"Who hasn't at this point?"

"Have you killed any alive?" Doctor asked without hesitation. Merle was taken back, he couldn't lie now, he's paused too long but what would the man think?

"... I've killed some living before." Merle looked away. "From other groups that threatened ours... Sometimes I had to put down my allies before they turned..."

"You... You did it to protect your group?" Doctor asked.

"And myself, but that's the gist of it." Merle looked back and locked eyes with Doctor. "I ain't gonna lie to ya... I've done some awful things, but there's a reason I did it."

"Why?"

"To get my brother back." Merle licked his dry lips as Doctor watched him for a moment. The man stepped over, gripping his knife before raising it above the Dixon. Merle hissed another strike of pain going through his chest, closing his eyes as he braced for the impact of whatever the man was gonna do. Then Doctor cut off the zip-tie. Merle brought his arm to his side, sighing in relief.

"You will need to rest from your injuries, they will take some time to heal." Doctor pulled up a chair and sat down. "You are free to stay here, but you must abide by the rules I tell you or else you'll wish that car crash would've killed you."

~Reader's P.O.V.~

"You're kidding me." You glared as your dad began putting together breakfast. He was avoiding your look, as you tried to maintain contact. You stepped over to stand in front of him. "You can't stop me from meeting the guy."

"I know, but I don't want you meeting him for this first week. I want to know who we're dealing with before I let him see you." Your father answered as he began to put together a sandwich, filled with the meat he caught in a trap this morning.

"Don't you think meeting me will reveal more of who the guy he is?" You asked. "If he's some killer-rapist, won't his true colors shine if he sees a woman in the house."

"I don't want him to hurt you."

"He can't hurt me with a bunch of fractured ribs." You argued. "I could punch him in the injury faster than he can get me on the ground. If he can even get up."

"Then I just don't want to see how he treats you."

"Words don't hurt me, Dad." You shook your head. "Not anymore, not after all the hurt I've felt. Words are just a gun with no ammo."

"Just please..." Your father sighed, as he stopped his work. "Don't approach him, yet. Give it a week and then you can meet him..."

"..." You sighed as you picked up your ice picks, attaching them to your sides. "I'm going to go clear the area. Check the other traps and kill any undead that I see."

"Don't go too far off."

"I won't." You unlocked the front door, locking it behind you, before closing the door and heading out into the woods. You heard some groans already from undead and unattached the picks from your sides. It would be good to let off some steam.

~Merle's P.O.V.~

Merle had been left alone for the most part, bored out of his mind, having already examined the room. It was a simple guest room. Small bed with a side table, a small dresser sat against the wall in front of him, and a closet was in the wall to his right. There was nothing on the dresser, but there was a small lamp on the side table. He tried it, but it didn't come on, confirming the house didn't have power.

After that quick analysis, Merle's thoughts trailed to the day before. He remembers talking to the sheriff about handing the black woman over. He remembers seeing the sheriff speak with the woman and seeing his strength weaken. No wonder he wanted Merle to be the one who handed her over. He was too weak. He remembers talking to that frail thing that his brother had taken a liking to.

Merle closed his eyes as he remembered his conversation with his brother. He remember how afterwards he trapped the black woman, tied her up, and was bringing her to her inevitable demise. The Governor wouldn't have killed her, yet, he would have done so many worst things first. He remembers taking her there and after a confrontation with some walkers, he released her. He wasn't completely sure why, but his brother's words continued to ring through his head.

I just want my brother back...

A pain strikes through Merle's chest and he isn't sure if it's the fractured ribs or something else.

He then recalls what Doctor told him. About his injury from the car crash, how it would take six weeks to properly mend, and many rules he'd have to abide to in the household. He can't take anything that isn't his, if he threatens anyone he will be put down, if he thinks about sneaking food, yadayadayada. It was just about the same as the sheriff's ruling.

"You keep talking as if there are more of you. Is there?" Merle had asked after Doctor had finished. The man frowned and almost seemed to become a little more threatening.

"There is more, but you ain't meeting anyone else. Not yet." The doctor had answered.

So, here Merle lied, staring at the ceiling, slowly losing his mind. He heard the door creak open and he looked over to see Doctor step in, a plate in his hands, he walked over and placed it on the small table beside Merle.

"If you're getting any better, you'll need to eat, too." The doctor nodded encouragingly to the food. Merle eyed the doctor, before slowly pushing himself to sit up. He winced and the man stepped over to help him sit up. Once Merle had his back rested against the head of the bed, he reached over and grabbed the plate. On it was a sandwich with homemade bread and some cooked meat between the slices, and a bag of chips along with a bottle of water.

"Where'd you come by food like this?" Merle looked to Doctor with a raised eyebrow.

"We make the bread, something I learned from my wife. We catch the meat, that one's rabbit, in some traps we set up. I didn't know how to do something like that originally, but my da-" Doctor cut himself off as he looked away from Merle. "A friend of mine taught me how to make 'em. We found a vending machine not too long ago and stole all the chips. And that water's from the river. We cleaned it up the best we could, but there's only so much that can be done."

"Hmph, glad I was saved by some people who know what they're doing." Merle picked up the sandwhich and took a bite out of it. It was no roast beef, but the rabbit was cooked good and the bread wasn't bad. Better than the moldy stuff that was sometimes given in Woodbury. He then chugged down a third of the water, it was clean and still a little cold. "So, if you're a doctor, what's your 'friend'? You got this medical stuff down and he covers the traps, cooking, I bet even the cleaning of water. He a park ranger or something?"

"They were a college student before all of this." Doctor hesitated. "They were training to be a climbing guide. Someone who goes out and helps groups of people mountaineer, specifically rock climbing."

"Sounds tough. Too bad there ain't many mountains around here." Merle paused. "We are still in Georgia, right?"

"Yes." Doctor smiled slightly. "More in the woods, away from civilization, but we are still in Georgia."

"Huh..." Merle took another bite of the sandwhich. "So, you got a young college kid teaching you how to survive. Must've lost some pride there."

"Oh, no. I'm grateful for all their help and whenever they're hurt, I help them in return. They're a good kid." Doctor set his mouth in a line and looks to Merle. "When you do meet them, I expect you to treat them well. Try anything and you're as good as undead food."

"Tch, I ain't gonna beg." Merle scoffed, as he reached over and traced his fingers over his stump. He frowned at the vulnerability. "Where'd you take my bayonet?"

"Is that what that was? I didn't want it in the way of me checking your ribs, that and it is a weapon. I wasn't sure how violent you would be when you woke up." Doctor admitted.

"Smart choice, I might've slit your throat if I still had it." Merle chuckled half-heartedly, before dropping his hand to his side, again.

"You talk big for someone who can't fight back at the moment."

"I should be dead." Merle looked back to the man. "You don't know what I was doing... But I should be dead."

"And we saved you. The thanks we get is your empty threats?" Doctor raised an eyebrow at Merle.

"Ya could just kill me, old man. Why don't ya? Ya don't seem tah want me around." Merle offered, as he licked off his fingers. "So, why don't you? All I'm gonna do is waste yer supplies."

"... I want to." Doctor spoke softly, almost getting on Merle's nerves. Who was this guy? Doctor bowed his head as he ran his hand along the wood of the side table. "I wanted to leave you to the undead... But they didn't want that."

"THEY didn't?"

"And that's why I'm saying you better treat them with respect. If it weren't for them, you'd be as good as dead." Doctor frowned, before turning and leaving the room. Merle watched the man leave, before ripping open the chips bag with his teeth. He wasn't sure who THEY were, but he supposed he owed them his life. Let's hope THEY weren't crazy.

~Reader's P.O.V.~

You stabbed your picks into the tree as you climbed up the thick thing of oak. You were already twenty feet off the ground as you climbed higher into the tallest branches of the tree. The sun was high in the sky, birds cried overhead, and in the distance you heard the running of water. Coming to find that the branches were getting thinner, you decided to rest on one of the highest, thick branches.

You sighed, your back pressed against the tree as you cleaned off your picks. You would need to sharpen them soon, they were beginning to lose their edge. Too much wedging them into undead heads. You looked out over the sea of trees, some stuff peeking above in the distance. A building or two to indicate towns, power line towers, if you squinted you could almost see Atlanta.

Your gaze fell over to the mountain peaks that barely edged in the distance. They always seemed to call to you, whispering your name on the wind. If you didn't have to be so careful, you'd head there now. Up into the peaks, where fresh snow lied and where wildlife grew. No human or undead would head there willingly. No one liked the cold, except maybe you.

You lowered your sights to your cabin that only barely peaked above the trees. No one would find your secret home, not unless they came looking. Your thoughts fell to the stranger and you frowned. You hoped he was a good guy, you've met too many bad ones. It would be nice to know that there was still good people out there.

You stretched your fingers, before picking up your ice picks again. You better hurry home, before your father grew worried.

~

You stepped into the house, your picks hooked to your side and a bag over each of your shoulders. One held a couple rabbits and the other held a capped off bucket of fresh water. You set the bags on the counter in the kitchen as you kicked off your shoes, letting them land off to the side and out of the way. Your father stepped into the kitchen and sighed in relief seeing you.

"You were out for a while." He commented. "A whole afternoon."

"Yeah, the traps were pretty filled this time around and I decided to get some more fresh water. Keep us all hydrated." You implied your new 'guest' and your father caught on as he nodded.

"Well, good job." Your father shouldered his rifle. "I'm heading out for small bit. I'm going to head to that empty cabin down the road a bit. I'm thinking of getting a cooler."

"Why?"

"That man is going through some serious pain. You know the rice bags you heat up to ease your muscles?" Your father picked up his traveling bag as you recalled the rice bags you kept stowed away.

"Yeah, of course. They really help me loosen up."

"They work the opposite way, too. If you cool them down, they could be used as an ice pack. That could be essential with the man's healing process. Definitely would help speed it along." Your father pulled a beanie onto his head. "I'll go check for a cooler and fill it with some of the cold river water, we can soak some of those rice bags for him. If the pain ever begins to spike, we can get him a fresh pack to hold over his bruising."

"I like the idea." You slipped your jacket off. "How long will you be gone?"

"The cabin is twenty minutes away, but I doubt I'll be gone for more than two hours." Your father grabbed the cabin key. "Don't answer the door for anyone. If you hear anyone or anything trying to get in. Get upstairs, get into our room, and lock the door. You have your gun, right?"

"Always." You pat your pants' pocket. "Be careful, Dad..."

"I will." Your father smiled as he stepped over and kissed the top of your head. "If I don't come home soon enough, cook up some supper for yourself."

"What about...?" You gestured up the stairs. Your father scowled slightly and shook his head.

"He can wait, I'll make him dinner later." Your father shifted the straps of his pack over his shoulder and made his way to the front door. "I'll be back soon."

He opened the door, stepping out, quietly shutting the door behind himself. You stepped over and locked the door behind him, before turning to face the kitchen, again. You were home, mostly, alone. You guess now would be a good time to sharpen your picks.

Chapter Text

The sun had begun to set and you began to grow worried for your father. You hope he was doing alright. You paced through the kitchen and the dining room as you tried to sort your thoughts. He was alright. You were alright.

You lit a couple of candles, so the room wouldn't be completely dark.

You were considering making dinner. It was growing late. You then caught the sound of something upstairs. You paused in your pace and listened more intently this time. There was a pause and then you heard it, again. A hoarse cough.

You knew it was the man and your chest twisted in fright. He sounded like he was in real pain from that cough. Your father said to keep away from him... But if you didn't help this man, he could die. Your father wouldn't want an undead in the house. You grabbed one of the water bottles that you filled with the fresh, clean water and made your way upstairs.

The floorboards creaked under your footsteps as you stepped over to the guest door. You hesitated, wondering if this was the best decision. But then you heard the cough, again, this time in a fit with others. The hurt was too evident and you opened the door, stepping into the room.

With only a couple streaks of sun making it through the window, the room was almost completely black. But the slight light was still able to reveal the man, who leaned on his elbow and coughed harshly. His stump hovered over his chest as if to hold his injury. You hurried over and set the water bottle aside, as you gently began to help the man sit up from his lying position. You pulled up the chair that was close by and sat beside the bed.

The man's coughs lessened, but they still continued as he breathed rapidly between coughs. You placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke loud enough for him to hear.

"Calm down. Try to push down the coughs and slow down your breathing. You're breathing too fast." Your voice became soft, though it still projected to the man. "Just breathe slowly."

The man didn't say anything, but finally his coughs died out. Your hand remained on his shoulder and you could slightly feel as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. After ten deep breathes that you felt, you took back your hand and grabbed the water, offering it to the man.

"Drink, it will help." The water was taken away from you, as the man quickly unclasped it and began to chug it down. You heard him let out a sigh after taking his fill. His face turned to look to you, but the shadows obscured what you could see of him.

"Am I dead?" Was the first thing you heard the man ask you. You smiled a little in humor, as you sat back in the chair.

"No, you're not dead."

"I have tah be." You saw him shake his head, his southern drawl spilling over his lips. "I was about tah cough up a lung."

"Yeah?"

"And ya showed up. A little angel in the night. I was sure as hell I was going tah the world under. Didn't think that heaven had a place for me." You could barely make the upturn of the man's mouth, a sign of a smile. "No way a pretty little thang like you is real."

"I'm as real as the breathe in your lungs and as real as the blood in your veins." You shrugged a little. "You sounded hurt... I wasn't gonna leave you alone..."

"If I'm not dead. Who are ya?" The man rested his back against the head of the bed, as his eyes flickered over you, curiously.

"I'm... ___." You answered, honestly.

"Well then, ___. How come I didn't hear a squeak of ya earlier? Doctor man tells me about him and Mr. Mountaineer, but nuttin' about a beau like you." You felt your cheeks heat up at the man's words. Though what he said was confusing you, though you could start to see his misunderstanding.

"It's only me and the doctor." You started.

"Nah, he was tellin' me about a young man, right out of college. A mountain climber. I remember. Said he showed him how tah..." The man's voice slowed, as you unclipped an ice pick from your side. You showed it off, before looking to meet the man's eyes. With what little light there was left, you could see a shine of icy blue.

"I'm the mountaineer, mister." You lowered your pick. "And you are?"

~

Merle. He said his name was Merle Dixon. You didn't press anymore questions, but you did answer the few you felt comfortable with answering.

"There a reason why the doc' hid you away?" Merle asked, as you lit a candle and set it on his side table.

"He's my father." You started.

"Shit." Merle cursed as you shot him a look. He caught it and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"That curse seemed a little unnecessary."

"Excuse my French, sugah, but I don't give a damn. Tryin' to make me stop is as pointless as tryin' to make a boat made of rocks. It ain't happening." Merle spat, as he folded his arms.

"Forget what I think then." You sighed and shook your head. "My dad didn't want me to meet you until he knew you were okay to be around. I thought it was stupid. We took your weapons and your injured. What could you do?"

"You're too young tah get it, girl." Merle chuckled slightly. "He ain't afraid of you getting attacked or ambushed by me."

"Then what is he afraid of?"

"He wants tah see how good of a sweet talker I am." A smirk crawled onto Merle's face, as his ice blue eyes became lit with a lecherous look. "Sweet, little thang like you? Guys like me eat you up for breakfast. And all we need is a few words tah do it."

"I-I would never!" You stuttered, as you pushed your chair back away from the bed. This guy was crazy. He was way older than you and there was nothing about him you liked. I mean, he wasn't bad looking, but you knew what your dream guy was. Your age, lean, soft hair that reaches his chin, and a gentleman personality. The complete opposite of this guy.

"Ya say that, but the ones who deny it the most always fall." Merle leaned his head back and looked to the ceiling. "Lucky you, I don't care for robbing the cradle."

"No?"

"I like a woman with experience, one who can give me what I want. Someone who can take me in anyway, shape or form." Merle opened his mouth to go on, but you really didn't want to hear it.

"You know, I'm starting to see why my dad wasn't so sure about this."

"What? You not turned by the Dixon charm?"

"Hardly." You blew some hair beginning to trail in front of your eyes. "Like you, you're not really my type."

"I'm hurt, darlin'." Merle brought his stump up to hover over his heart, as he continued mockingly. "I am bein' so polite at the moment. Watchin' mah language, makin' mah innuendoes more subtle, I'm even usin' some big words to impress y'all."

"I'm not really looking for a relationship in the middle of the apocalypse. Thank you."

"If your waitin' for after the apocalypse, you're not gonna be happy tah find out that this end of the world schtick doesn't just fix itself overnight." Merle chewed on a nail from his one hand. "And even if it did. Even if all them walkers keeled over, it wouldn't be the same."

"..." You lowered your gaze, knowing he was right.

"Wish it was just the walkers... The real monsters in this world has and will always be humans. The living." Merle lowered his hand as he let out a huff. "Really wish I had a pack of smokes right about now."

"With fractured ribs? You couldn't breathe because of them thirty minutes ago! Cigarettes would kill you!" You couldn't believe the stuff coming out of this man's mouth. Did he ever think before he spoke?

"Lung cancer is the least of mah problems at this point." Merle waved off your concern. "I'm about tah die of boredom in here anyway."

"I guess there's not much you can do lying down all day. Not until your ribs are healed enough that you can stand and walk around, again." You sat back in your chair and thought for a moment. "What kind of books do you like?"

"I don't know if ya can tell, girl, but I'm not a book person."

"Well, it's either that or nothing. Not much we can do without electricity and without being able to get up and around. It's either that or writing." You shrugged, allowing him to have his choice. The man growled in irritation for his response, before he looked out the window.

"I already know enough, but any survival guides. Maybe freshen mah memory or learn a new tip or two." He finally grumbled out.

"We have a few around here. I'll grab you one for tomorrow." You hesitated. "I don't want my dad knowing I met you before he thought it was alright, so I guess I'll try to visit you whenever he's not around."

"Let me tell you, girl, I much rather you around than the old man. He's always sending me death threats and acting cold." Merle looked back to you. "Like I said, a little angel in the night."

"I'm glad I make you feel welcomed." You stood from your seat and slowly raise your hands. "It's getting late, let me help you lie back down."

"Don't need tah tell me twice." Merle raise his arm as you put your arm around his back and carefully helped him lie back down. He flinched in pain for a moment and you frowned.

"My dad is getting some ice packs ready to help ease the pain from your wound. If there isn't one around, just use the water bottle to keep the injury cool for now." You reached down and picked up the candle, it's flame dancing with the movement.

"What about those coughs? What do ya reckon I should do about that?"

"Every hour or so, while your awake, just do what you did earlier take some deep breathes for a minute or two. It will help keep your lungs open and should prevent another coughing fit." You hesitated. "Merle, before I go, I want you to be honest... What do you plan on doing after you get better?"

"Easy. I'm ditching this place and getting back tah my brother." Merle announced with no hesitation. You smiled at the answer.

"That's a good enough answer for me." You blew out the candle and stepped to the bedroom door. "Goodnight, Merle."

You didn't get a response as you exited the bedroom.

~

No one had gotten dinner that night. Your father had showed up later with a water and snow filled cooler where he stashed some of your rice bags. Before he had showed up, you snuck Merle a survival guide you found in your own room, hoping he'd come up with his own excuse for it. You expected that next morning, after your father talked with Merle, he'd come storming up to you with your secret revealed to him. But nothing in the routine changed.

Your father had no idea you had already met Merle.

And the next couple days continued like this. Your father would check in on Merle during each meal to bring him something. The only time he went out of his way to see him was if Merle was showing any verbal signs of pain. Your father proudly stated that the cold rice bags had been helping a lot with easing the pain. This was confirmed the few times you dropped in to visit Merle.

It wasn't something that lasted long, but whenever your father was out, you would sneak into Merle's room. The first time the room was lit up by the sun and you got a better look at him. His eyes were still cold and his smirk sent nervous chills down your back, but the guy never really showed any sign of wanting to hurt you. The time was usually spent talking, or more complaining on Merle's part.

Neither of you ever asked personal questions. Where you from? Were you part of a group? What was your life before this? Any family? Have you killed anybody? Those questions came to mind, but you never asked.

You didn't want him to ask them in return.

But you did know he had a brother, someone he wanted to get back to. He might be the only reason Merle was playing nice.

One day during the first week, your father had left to check the traps. You were reading a book to past the time along, but noticing your father's absence, you got up and climbed the stairs, headed for Merle's room. You stepped in and was surprised to find the man clenched up from pain with sweat rolling down his face. You dropped your book on the dresser and quickly stepped back out of the room. You came back in with a rag drenched in cold water and a fresh cold rice bag in your other hand.

Without asking, you removed the rice bag that was pressed against Merle's side and gently lied the new one across his chest where his bruises mainly were. Merle hissed from the touch and peeked open an eye to look at you.

"Damn, you try'na kill me, girl?" He hissed through his teeth.

"Quite the opposite." You pulled the chair up close to the bed, so much so, your knees were pressing into the mattress. Leaning over you lightly began to move the rag over Merle's face. You started with his forehead which was a sheen of sweat. The cool rag hit his hot skin and the man let out a sigh from the contrast.

"Never mind, keep doing that, girl..." Merle closed his eyes, again, as you smiled. Lightly, you began to bring the cool rag down to the sides of his face and then across his nose. You brought it down beneath his chin, which he lifted up slightly so you could wipe away the sweat better. You traced beneath his jawline before placing the cold material on the back of his neck. He jolted at the sudden chill. "Oh, man! Where were you all those other times I was fryin' up?"

"I guess I couldn't be around." You gently laid the cold rag across his forehead as his breathing became steady, again. "Have you gotten feverish a lot this week?"

"Few times, when it got bad enough..." Merle clicked his tongue as he turned his head to face you. "You sure yer not the doctor?"

"I wouldn't know how to do half this stuff without my father." You stood up from the chair. "You should rest, I'll leave you to it."

"Or." A hand came out and caught your wrist. Merle's hand was much larger than yours and easily circled around your tiny wrist. You looked down at him as he shifted in bed slightly. "You could stay with me till my eyelids drop like lead."

"If I stay you won't be able to get to sleep." You argued.

"I could fall asleep to your sweet, sweet voice, girl. Just tell me somethin' long and boring." Merle released your hand as he relaxed back into bed. You frowned and looked over the man. He wanted something boring, huh? You stepped over and picked up your book, returning to your seat.

"I guess you're gonna join me in my light reading." You flipped back open to where you were in the book. The Dixon lying in front of you rolled his eyes before getting comfortable in his bed. You found your place and began to read. "He wants to belong to this house again, needs to be part of these tall windows set low to the ground, walls half-hidden behind thick waxy rhododendron leaves, the cedar hedge in the front, all of it—all elegance and good taste..."

~

You finished the chapter of the book and bookmarked it, as you closed the hard covers. You looked to the man lying in front of you and smiled a little. Out like a light. His chest rose and fell with his breathes, and for once he didn't look as if he were in extreme pain. You were glad you could help him rest.

You stood up and walked over to the bedroom door, stepping out. You clicked the door shut behind you, but jumped upon seeing the looming figure of your father at the top of the stairs.

"What were you doing in there?" Your father hissed, worry and anger written across the lines under his eyes.

"I know what you said." You started. "But he was hurt."

"___, you can't do this!" Your father stepped over to you and hesitantly took your shoulders, looking you over. "He didn't do anything to you, right?"

"He couldn't have, even if he wanted to." You frowned and pulled away from your father's hands. "Dad, he was clenched up and sweaty. He needed someone and I was the only one around."

"But I need you around." Your father snapped as you looked away. "I can't lose you..."

"And you won't. But I'm an adult. I know what I'm doing." You met your father's sorrowful gaze and let out a sigh. "He knows about me, but he hasn't hurt me. If anything he's just brutally honest. He's asleep now."

You nodded to the bedroom as you folded your arms. Your father looked down at the ice picks hooked to your sides and sighed.

"I know you wouldn't let him hurt you. You're too smart and strong." You father reached out and patted your arm. "Tell me when you visit him from now on."

"I will." You promised. Your father smiled a little, before passing by you and making his way towards his room. You smiled a little, happy to have that weight off your shoulders. It would be easier helping Merle now and maybe your dad would start to feel better about it.

~

"How's it going, doc'?" Merle asked, as he looked up from his survival guide book. He raised an eyebrow as he watched ___ step in beside her father. She gave him a relaxed look. It would seem their little secret meetings have been brought into the open. "Hope I didn't get your little girl in trouble."

"We've talked, she assured me that those ice picks were with her at all times. Now, let's check to see how those ribs of yours are healing." Doctor stepped over and removed the rice bag, before rolling up his sleeves and beginning to feel the sides of Merle's chest. Merle bit the inside of his cheek as his pain shot through once more, the taste of blood beginning to fill his mouth. "They're doing better, but they still need time."

"Think he's good to start walking around?" ___ spoke up. Doctor pursed his lips as he looked over Merle.

"Yeah, he could. Getting some blood flow would help with the healing, too."

"Thank god." Merle leaned his head back and let out a breathless laugh. "I thought I'd go mad lying here much longer."

"You won't be able to stand for too long now, you will need to rest whenever you begin to feel strain. Now, try getting up on your own. We will aid you if you need it." Doctor nodded to Merle, as the redneck licked his lips. He brought his arms up and slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows. It stung, but it was numb compared to the first few times he had tried. Merle slowly brought his legs over, until they were draped over the bed. That wasn't too hard.

"Can't keep a Dixon down for long." Merle pressed his stump and palm of his hand against the mattress, pushing himself up to his feet. He stood for a moment, but his vision began to swarm black. He felt himself stumble forward, but a pair of firm hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him to keep standing.

"Don't pass out on us now." Doctor tsked slightly. "___, can you allow him to lean on your side?"

"No problem." As Merle's vision began to return, he felt the familiar arm of the girl come around his back and give him support on his side. Doctor released his shoulders, as Merle looked down to the girl, finding she was only an inch or two smaller than him. Merle brought up his handless arm and placed it around the girl's shoulders for support. ___ smiled at him as he regained his footing. "Think you can walk?"

"Nothing's gonna stop me from tryin'." Merle set his mouth in determination as he stepped across the room with ease, ___ staying by his side just in case. The redneck felt his leg muscles loosen up as they finally were able to move about instead of lying and growing numb. Merle's chest stung, but his lower back was thanking him already for the movement.

"Good. Think you can handle stairs?" ___ asked.

"Hell yeah. Lead the way, girl." Merle ushered the girl toward the bedroom door. Doctor watched warily, as he opened the door and followed the two closely from behind. Merle finally got his first good look outside of the bedroom. He was in a narrow hall, at the end was two more bedroom doors. A closet sat between his bedroom and the others, and there wasn't anything else much to see.

Merle stepped over with the girl to the top of a set of stairs. Doctor stepped down a few steps, before turning around to face the two.

"Alright, slow and steady now. I'll be here if anything gets rough on the way down." Doctor announced, his foot already lowering onto the next step. Merle took a deep breathe, before he stepped down onto the first step. He repeated the action with his other foot, before settling into a steady but slow rhythm down the stairs. He made it down with no problem, only having to lean on the girl a couple times.

Merle looked around to find himself in a kitchen, a dining room directly connected to it. The dining table could hold about six people, more if some chairs were added. Merle could spot a cooler pushed behind the counter, but besides that the kitchen was cleared of anything. He suspected the cupboards and pantry must be where all the food was at.

A strike of pain hit across Merle's chest as he brought up his hand to hover over his chest. He took some deep breathes as ___ looked up at him with concern.

"C'mon. Let's get you to the living room." ___ turned them both towards the direction of an open doorway. They stepped through into a smaller living room. Thick curtains covered the windows, blocking any light from getting in. The room had a fireplace and from the smell that filled the room, it must have been used recently. A sofa and an armchair sat in the room on a large rug. "Here."

___ helped Merle over to the sofa, where he promptly collapsed, his hand still resting over his chest. The redneck rolled his shoulders as he was released, a frown settling on his features.

"I can walk just fine, but my chest is being a real pain in the ass." Merle announced.

"It takes time, but soon you'll be walking about with no problem." Doctor smiled a little, before looking to ___. "You did a good job."

"Please, it wasn't a job. If we want to find good people in this world, we need to be good, too." ___ folded her arms and looked down at Merle. "You need another rice bag?"

"Nah, just need a moment to breathe." Merle sent her a smirk. "Ya must be pretty strong if you can hold a big lug like me up."

"Maybe if you completely collapsed on me I wouldn't be able to so easily, but being a support wasn't hard at all. So, if you ever need help getting around, feel free to ask me." ___ ran a hand through her hair, as she looked to her father. "I'll go check the traps, while you give him rules, show him around, whatever."

"Alright, be careful." Doctor nodded to ___ as she left the room. Merle watched the girl go, before looking back to the Doctor.

"She's a good kid." Merle stated, not sure what else to say.

"I know." Doctor sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I want you to stay away from her."

"Yeah?" Merle felt a bit of amusement fill his chest. This guy still really didn't trust him, though he was smart not to. But Merle didn't want anything to do with the girl in the first place. She wasn't his problem. "I'll stay away from the girl, don't care for her much, but who's to say that she doesn't come to me?"

"..."

"I didn't ask for her help last night. She came tah me. I could avoid her like Black Death itself, but who's to stop her from coming tah me?" Merle held hard contact with the doctor, before shaking his head. "Take my words or not, but your girl is too soft. She thinks that the world still has good in it, but she's wrong. She won't realize it until a bullet goes through her head."

A resounding slap echoed across the walls, as Doctor looked at Merle furiously. Merle rubbed his cheek and rolled his jaw, glaring at the man. But he didn't say anything, he knew he had already hurt the man standing in front of him. He was shaking, despite his looming exterior.

"I hope your in the ground before that day comes." Doctor spar, before he turned and left the room. Merle focused on the fireplace in front of him, a blank look beginning to spread across his features. He was getting better that was improvement, but a lot of time has passed.

The Governor no doubt already stampeded through the prison, probably killing most of the group. Merle prayed to God almighty that his brother got out alright. He also prayed that the Governor was Walker chow. But knowing his luck, Merle had doubts that either hope were true.

~

Merle never did approach the girl, but that didn't stop her from pursuing him. Some time during the day, the girl would find some time to sit with the redneck and just talk. Again, nothing personal, just small things.

"What happened to your hand?" ___ asked one day. She looked mortified after she asked, causing Merle to chuckle in amusement.

"It's a pretty long story... Not really a story for a sensitive soul." Merle rubbed a hand over his stump, before his eyes raised to meet the girl's. "Does it scare ya?"

"Maybe at first... But not because it was scary, it's different." ___ shrugged slightly. "Everyone's afraid of something that's different... But give time, and they come to live with it."

"I have to literally."

"... Do you miss it?"

"It will never be the same." Merle admitted, as he lowered his stump to his lap. "But it's a part of me now. It is me now."

"Does it scare you?"

"A missing hand doesn't scare me, not in this world." Merle glanced at the curtained windows. "Seen too many messed up things."

"Yeah, no kidding." Merle looked back at the girl, eyeing her. She looked lost for a moment and it made him wonder if she has seen the horrors he's seen. Death was one thing, but at your own hand? Or standing by as a living person rips apart another bit by bit? Has she seen people become the monsters rather than the walkers?

Merle found himself learning his way around the house, finding nooks and crannies. He knew where the food was, where the weaponry was, and where the two other occupants slept at night. He didn't do anything to push them to suspicion, last thing he needs is a knife to the head, but if he did plan on sneaking away with a good surplus of supplies, he knew where to get them.

Did he want to rob the two blind? Maybe the doctor, but the girl hadn't done anything to deserve it. Except for how trusting she was, she definitely deserved a good ol' robbery for that. But Merle had some time to think about it. Who knows? Maybe once he was healed, they'd make him a pack and send him on his way.

If he was lucky, but Merle knew better than that.

When Merle wasn't exploring the house, he sat in the living room, dining room, and of course his bedroom. After he spent about an hour or two walking around, his legs finally gave out and he decided to rest in his bed for a bit before getting up, again. He flipped through the pages of the hunting magazine he found, when something outside caught his eye. It was a small flicker of movement, but he had eyes that were used to finding those small movements. Every Hunter needed them.

Merle shifted in his bed and got a better look. Once he spotted it, again, a grin spread across his face. Through the branches of a thick, tall tree, he saw the kid stab her ice picks into the tree and slowly ascend the tree. A sheer look of concentration was set across her features and Merle decided that was his favorite look of hers. Nothing was gonna break that focus.

He watched the girl settle down on a branch and clean off her picks. Her back rested against the trunk of the tree. Her gaze looked out onto the horizon and he followed where she looked. He found the mountains.

Merle felt his own pang of hurt. He would kill to be in the mountains, too. With his brother, away from everyone and everything else.

Chapter Text

Merle jolted up from the sofa, sweat running down his neck as the images of his nightmare faded into his subconscious. He was reliving the cutting of his hand, that saw tearing through his flesh, he remembered the girl he'd grown close to in Woodbury and just when he thought he had her, she was gunned down by the Governor himself, and he remembered the first innocent person he shot through the head. The rest of his dream was fuzzy and it was probably better that way. The sun had fallen making the space of the house dark. Merle saw the soft glow of a candle in the kitchen and made out the figure of the girl.

She sat on the kitchen counter, nibbling at a piece of cooked meat. Without alerting her, Merle stood up from the couch and made his way over to her. He wasn't strong enough to quiet his steps, so he wasn't surprised to see the girl catch attention of him.

"You're awake, you must've been tired. When I got back you were asleep on the couch." The girl commented as she ripped off the last of the meat from the bone.

"Thoughts got ahead of me... Was out before I knew it." Merle glanced out at the darkened night. "Your dad home?"

"He's upstairs, asleep." ___ nodded up the stairs. "He's been pretty tired the last week... It was because of you at first, but I don't think he minds you now."

"Doubt that." Merle rubbed his cheek, recalling the warnings and threats from the father. He definitely didn't trust Merle, yet. But the man knew the girl could defend herself... But did she know when to? Merle looked at the younger girl.

Her features were lightly illuminated by the candlelight, gaining the rednecks attention. He was no cradle-robber, but he'd be lying if he said the girl wasn't a pretty, little thing. He could take her, if he really wanted to, but he wouldn't force anything. He wasn't the Governor, he wasn't like that. Merle only took what he deserved and when it came to women, he'd only take the ones who wanted it or who could be paid for it.

But he wasn't gonna look soft in front of this family. He wasn't gonna show more vulnerability than he needed to.

"Did he hurt you?" The girl asked, a frown tugging at her lips as she stepped closer to Merle. She reached up to place a hand on his cheek, but the redneck caught her wrist with his one hand. He wasn't serious about his actions, teasing really, but he wanted to make sure he got his point across. He wasn't someone to grow soft for. He was a danger.

"Ya concerned, sugah?" Merle grinned, as he cooed mockingly. The Dixon pulled the girl closer, until her chest was up against his. Merle caught it, a look of fear flashed over the girl's features. Merle brought his head down beside hers and hushed his next words. "I'm glad ya care so much, sweet cheeks."

A small clicking sound brought a silence down between the both of them. Merle felt something pressed against his side and when he looked down, he found in the girl's free hand a derringer.

"Back off." ___ softly hissed, her eyes boring into Merle's. The redneck grinned widely.

"Ya got me there, girl." Merle released her wrist and backed off. He gave a low whistle as he watched the derringer, still pointed at his abdomen.

"The smallest gun in the world. No wonder I never see ya with a firearm, ya always had one with ya, the whole time." Merle chuckled and shook his head. "Can't have that many rounds, right? Four maybe? And even then, do ya have any ammo?"

"If I didn't, I would have brought my picks out." The girl looked over Merle, her walls having finally been brought up. Good, she should know better than to just go around and trust any random stranger she finds on the curb.

"Whatever ya say, girl." Merle huffed and turned to make his way up the stairs.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Merle glanced back at the girl. She frowned, the light seeming to darken her features now. She looked away from him.

"You and my father do it... But you both refuse to trust others. Why do you push people away who just want to help you?" She asked. Merle wasn't gonna give her an answer, but it seemed that she expected one.

"When ya bring people close, ya start tah care about them. Right?"

"Well, yeah. That's usually what happens."

"Where's all the people ya care about, girl?" That struck the girl silent. She maintained eye contact with the redneck, but her whole aura changed. Her figure went a little limp in defeat, her expression became blank, and her eyes lost the light they sometimes held when she spoke with him. She didn't-couldn't answer him. Merle shook his head. "You want another bag of flesh tah mean something teh ya? You want to cry over a dirtbag like me? Why hurt yourself like that, girl? If you want to really start surviving, ya gotta stop caring."

"..." Merle scoffed and turned, heading back up the stairs. He reached the top, when her voice spoke up, again. "You care about your brother, right? You're surviving for him, right?"

"Kid." Merle exhaled, as he rested a hand on the railing of the stairs. "I was gonna die for him that day ya found me. I was gonna die, because I did care. And you will, too."

And that was the end of that.

~Reader's P.O.V.~

The next couple days passed and unlike the week before, you didn't go out of your way to find Merle. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. He tried to scare you off and he himself said that he didn't want to care. And maybe you shouldn't be trying to care. He was right, getting attached to anyone would just end up hurting you.

Killing you.

You shifted one of your ice picks from hand to hand as you made your way down to the river. You had set up a net in the running water earlier this week, but you hadn't caught anything to your disappointment. You decided that if there wasn't anything in it today, you'd just take it out. You walked up to the water's edge and washed your pick off of undead gunk, before walking upstream to your net. The rushing water obscured your vision, but as you tugged the net up, you were surprised by the splashes.

Caught in your net, was about a dozen bass, with a variety of their kind. Largemouth, smallmouth, spotted, at least from what you could identify. A wide grin split across your face, as you pulled the net out of the water. You thanked the father above that the house wasn't too far off. You quickly began your trek back.

You were getting sick of rabbit, this would be a nice change.

~

"Nine of them." You told your father, as he looked down into the cooler. Six fish skimmed about in the water-filled cooler, three of them lied on the counter, dead and ready to be cut up and cooked.

"Amazing." Your father placed a hand over his stomach. "Bass sounds really good right now. Especially after all the rodents we've been eating."

"I'll need help with cutting them up and cooking them. Especially if we plan on seconds." You walked over and opened up a drawer filled with knives. You removed a sharper knife that would be good for filleting and shut the drawer, heading back to the counter. Your father slipped to the living room to start up a good fire, as you cut behind the fin of the fish to its spine. You began to fillet the fish, just like you did on the fishing trips you'd been on before, as a familiar redneck made his way down the stairs.

"Knew I smelt somethin' fishy." Merle stepped over to the counter and whistled as he saw all the fish you had caught. "My, oh my, you impressed me before, girl, but now yer just showin' off."

"Did you not have girls where you were at who could hunt and fish or something?"

"Sure there was, but they were all lesbians and feminists." Merle sent you an accusing gaze and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not a lesbian and I'm all for women getting power, but I'm not gonna exile men because of it." You paused with your cutting and shot Merle an annoyed look. "Why does it matter anymore?! We're living in a world of anarchy, everyone and no one has power!"

"I was more concerned about yer sexuality, tah be frank, sugah." Merle sent you a wink as he came around the counter to stand beside you. "Glad that I am yer type."

"Not my type. Told you this before."

"Ya runnin' out of options though. The apocalypse is merciless." Merle looked down at the fish. "Need help?"

"I don't think you'd help much in the cutting department." You glanced at Merle's absent hand.

"If I got mah arm guard back, I could hook up a kitchen knife 'n cut up those fish tah perfection." Merle scoffed, as he placed his stump against the counter. "But I guess ya won't get any Dixon fillets today."

"Just go busy yourself, we got this."

"Do ya even know how tah cook long mouth bass?" Merle ignored your comment and pressed his question to you.

"Can't be much different than perch, right?"

"Ya cook all yer fish the same?" Merle held up a hand before you could try and continue. "Ya cut up yer fish, sugah. I'll do the cooking part. After ya taste my fish, you'll be begging for me to cook all yer fish."

"Isn't cooking for the women?" You raised an eyebrow at his eagerness.

"Women make the breads 'n cookies. Men are the ones who cook the meat." Merle stepped over to a cupboard and opened it, beginning to remove some vegetable oil, salt, and pepper that was left behind. Merle sent you a smirk. "Yer mouth will be waterin' fer more, guarantee."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Dixon."

"I never do." Merle nudged your arm as he made his way by you, heading to the living room. "Unless I have a plan tah get out of it."

"Why am I not surprised?"

~

You weren't gonna say it out loud, but the bass was heavenly. You weren't sure what Merle did to it (your father watched him to make sure Merle didn't slip anything in), but whatever he did, it was the best thing you've had since you found that box of Hostess cupcakes. You licked your fingers as your father recalled one of the trips he took with your mother, west of the country. Merle wasn't really paying attention as he stoked the fire, some embers flying up.

"We spent all week at that ski resort." Your father smiled a little, as a light, one you hadn't seen for months, flickered in his eyes. "She always ended up falling in the snow, but I thought she looked like the most amazing woman in the world. The snow seemed to glitter in her hair."

"She said it was the best snow on earth." You remembered your mother recounting the story, though she always spoke highly of the hot chocolate during her retelling.

"It was the best I'd ever experience. Crisp, powdery, it was packed, but it wouldn't try to kill you." Your father sighed and closed his eyes. "You would have loved the mountain, ___."

"Yeah..." You felt your heart drop, the memory of your mother tarnished. Some days you'd expect to wake up and she'd be there, happy to see you home from college for the holiday. She'd talk to you about your friends and boys you thought about pursuing in school. She'd tell you about her own college experience and you would laugh at the contrast of the woman she used to be to the woman she is. Was.

"How about you, Merle?" You father began as he looked to the redneck. "Got any good stories to tell? Any glimmers of life?"

"Mah life wasn't exactly heaven before all this." Merle spat, but he stepped over and took a seat in the empty armchair. He seemed to think for a moment, and to your surprise he opened his mouth to share something of his own. "I can think of one good moment. I was fifteen, mah brother was six. The kid didn't have any friends, was too quiet, 'n I didn't have the time nor want tah spend that time with him."

You saw a hint of a smile begin to grow on Merle's face as he went on.

"Found an abandoned pup with a couple colleagues of mine and brought 'im home. Daryl loved the dog the moment he saw 'im, dirt 'n all." Merle picked at his teeth as his smile began to fade away. "He didn't get to keep it for long, but when the kid had it, it was like everything was right in the world."

~

You were reading one afternoon as Merle stepped into the living room, taking a seat on the unoccupied sofa. You were too focused on your book to notice his lingering looks towards you.

"Ya still readin' that dang book?" Merle asked, glancing at the cover.

"I wasn't that far in when I first read it to you." You stated, not taking your eyes away from the page.

"That kid still depressed?"

"You remembered." You lowered your book and offered a small smile. "I'll be honest, I didn't think you were paying attention. I thought you just listened to the droning of my voice and fell asleep."

"I paid attention for a bit... But ya did begin tah drone." Merle kicked his legs up onto the couch and lied back. "Was thinkin' 'bout takin' a nap."

"Oh?"

"Might be easier if ya read some more of that book for me." You caught on as you looked back to your book, finding your place.

"You missed a lot, are you sure you want me to continue?"

"Eh, I'll catch on."

"If you say so." You cleared your throat and began. "'Berger laughs. "When's the last time you got really mad?" He says, carefully, "When it comes, there's always too much of it. I don't know how to handle it." "Sure, I know," Berger says. "It's a closet full of junk. You open the door and everything falls out."'

"The kid at therapy or somethin'?" Merle interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, he wasn't getting any better, so he decided to give it a chance."

"Did it say why he's depressed, yet?"

"No! A bit impatient, aren't you?"

"It better be a good reason tah be depressed fer so long." Merle scoffed, before gesturing to you and himself. "Look at us. We're at the end of the world 'n we both have higher spirits than that kid."

"Yeah... I guess you're right." You found your place, again, and continued. "No," he says. "There's a guy in the closet. I don't even know him, that's the problem." "Only way you're ever gonna get to know him," Berger says, "is to let him out now and then. …" "Sometimes," he says, "when you let yourself feel, all you feel is lousy."

"Amen!" Merle raised up his one hand, as you snorted.

"Gosh, you're a pain in the neck to read with."

"Hey now, that book speaks some truth. Lousy is mah general mood 'n it sucks ass." Merle leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Especially with a cut off hand 'n some broken ribs."

"If you would stop interrupting, maybe you'd get an answer to your problems." You clicked your tongue and started once more. "'Berger nods. "Maybe you gotta feel lousy sometime, in order to feel better. A little advice, kiddo, about feeling. Don't think too much about it. And don't expect it always to tickle."

"..."

"Learn anything?"

"I learned that I like that sound ya made earlier. I like seein' ya flustered 'n embarrassed, girl. But that little snort might've topped the cake, sugah." Merle sent you a wink, before turning his head, his breathes beginning to slow down and turn deep. You felt your cheeks heat up, as you looked back to your book. You got to stop letting this guy get the better of you, his words shouldn't make you so embarrassed. You continued to read from the book, as the redneck fell asleep.

~Merle's P.O.V.~

"Your ribs are definitely starting to heal back into place." Doctor stood up straight and smiled slightly at Merle. "It's gonna hurt the first few times, but I suggest you start doing some light stretching. Help keep your blood flowing and it will help keep your lungs healthy."

"Mah lungs were shot before the broken ribs." Merle scoffed.

"Smoking will do that."

"Don't go judgin' me."

"I'm not, I already told you that your death is not of my concern." Doctor shook his head, as he tugged down the sleeves of his shirt and turned to leave. Merle had a question that was nipping at the back of his head.

"What's happen tah y'all?"

"What do you mean?" Doctor glanced back with a curious look.

"What made ya hate other survivors? Where's the rest of the family? 'n don't tell me nothin', I've seen yer girl hurt when she thinks of them." Merle had a bad feeling about the results of this question. He had, many a time, gone out and shot up innocent groups. He could just as likely killed a few of their family members.

"..." Doctor looked away, a frown worming onto his face. "You don't have any right to ask such questions... What happened to them... Us... It is none of your concern..."

"We've all lost people, it ain't new now." Merle huffed as he bent over slowly and rested his elbows on his legs. "I would just like tah know why ya hate me so much, despite me only just existin'."

"That's enough for me to hate you." Doctor turned back fully and glowered at Merle. "I don't know you. I have no idea what you're capable of. Bringing you here, near my daughter, is a major threat. I don't hate you because of what you've done, I hate you because of what you could do."

"Hardly seems fair."

"Life ain't fair, Dixon." Doctor sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "It's best you just leave such questions to rest... Especially around my daughter."

"Why'd ya think I approached ya about it?" Merle scoffed, but looked off and frowned. Yeah, he definitely wouldn't want to learn from the girl that his group from Woodbury could've killed her family. That was the last thing Merle needed on his conscious.

~

After stretching out his tense muscles, Merle decided to inspect the house a little better. Cabin's like these had their own ways to hide away things from plain sight. The first thing he searched for was an entrance to the attic. After some light searching, he noticed the panel to the attic was in the other two's bed room. Something to look into later...

But Merle was interested in something far different.

With the two out doing their usual routine of checking traps, nets, and picking off walkers, Merle decided to spend the rest of their absence inspecting the floorboards. That's when he found it. In a closet on the ground level, was a trapdoor. Merle rubbed his hand against his stump as he grinned at the secret door.

"This better be what I think it is..." Merle tugged open the trap door with his one hand, revealing a wooden staircase leading down into a dark cellar. Merle took out the candle he would borrow for this little trip and lit it with a match, before making his way down. The candle did the trick and lit the dark room fairly well. Merle whistled as he saw the empty wine racks. He had found what he was looking for.

"What are you doing?" Merle jumped and swung around to find the girl stepping down into the cellar after him. She looked around curiously. "A wine cellar... I didn't even think..."

"Ya gotta know where tah look." Merle set the candle on top of a shelf, before slipping out one of the remaining wine bottles. He blew away the dust to read it better as he leaned it on top of his stump for support. "2005 Scarecrow. I'm not much of wine guy, but I might have tah loosen up 'n have a little of this."

"Is drinking the best thing to do while you're still injured?" ___ frowned, disapprovingly as Merle chuckled and slid the wine back into place.

"We can drink it together tah celebrate when mah ribs are healed. Our last hurrah, or whatever ya call it." Merle examined the other wine bottles, only a few remaining in the cellar.

"Is your group good, Merle?" The girl asked, a little cautiously, as she absentmindedly rubbed one of the bottles. "Like you?"

"They ain't nothin' like me." Merle almost laughed, as he looked to the girl. She looked worried, but he brushed it off as he leaned on one of the stone walls. "I don't know if yah've caught on, sweetheart. But I'm sort of a racist jackass."

"You haven't seemed racist... And you being a jerk is few and far between, at least from my view." ___ smiled a little.

"Well, the group I was with, they were a bunch of goody-two-shoes like ya. Except maybe not as forgivin'. They hate me, I hate them. Only one who doesn't treat me like shit there is mah brother." Merle spat off to the side as a scowl formed in his face. "And even then, he's become a real pussy."

"Maybe you're being a bit hard on him."

"I have to be. Ya can't be soft, not durin' these times!"

"Like how you can't afford to care during these times?"

"..." Merle looked back over and locked eyes with ___. She seemed a bit sad and Merle exhaled, knowing this was stab from his earlier comments. "I do care 'bout him... That's why I don't want tah see 'im get weak... I can't afford tah lose mah baby brother..."

"..." A small smile began to reappear on ___'s face, before she stepped over to Merle. The redneck stiffened up at her approach, until she placed her hand on his forearm. The arm with the stump. She didn't even hesitate or flinch or even took great notice of it. "We'll get you back to your brother, Merle. I promise."

"Thanks, sweet cheeks." Merle gave a half-hearted smirk and brought his one hand up to rest on her shoulder for a moment. In that brief moment, the redneck couldn't help but sweep his eyes over the girl. He hadn't seen a female smile so sincerely at him for a very long time. Merle closed his eyes as he slipped his arm away from the girl. "We best get back upstairs, don't want yer old man worryin'."

"Yeah, you're right." When Merle opened his eyes, he watched ___'s receding form as she made her way back up the cellar stairs. Merle rubbed the side of his face as he felt a headache coming on.

He needed to stop these thoughts, before he did something he'd regret.

~

Merle made it a goal to stretch before each meal and before he went to bed. He'd do so until all his muscles loosened up. This night, however, he was having some trouble. Merle had removed his top layer to better find the source of his discomfort. He did the limited stretches he could, without risking the chance of damaging his already fractured ribs, but his back was just aching.

This apocalypse was going to be the death of him, he sweared.

Merle sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his lower back in an attempt to lessen the pain. It wasn't really helping.

"Damn..." He cursed as he dropped his one hand.

"Language." ___ stepped into the room, her book under her arm.

"Piss-off. I don't need any of that tonight." Merle huffed and attempted to shoo her off. "Mah back's all screwed up. All I do is sit around this place nowadays, how the hell does it do that?"

"Maybe you just haven't been moving around enough." ___ frowned as she set her book on the side table. "Maybe a walk outside tomorrow could do you some good."

"I'd kill fer that."

"Hm." ___ smiled before stepping over and stopping beside Merle, before hesitating. She lifted her hands and nodded to Merle's back. "May I?"

"May ya what?" Merle raised an eyebrow.

"I've worked in some cold environments under layers of clothes... I've needed to learn how to loosen muscles, so I know a thing or two." ___ scratched the side of her nose. "If you'll let me."

"A massage?" Merle didn't question it, just bent forward a little more to give the girl a better area to work with. "No way in hell I'm sayin' no tah that. Ya do what ya gotta do."

"Alright." ___ slipped on the bed behind Merle and hesitated for a moment. She had never been this close to the man and she could see faded scars peaking from the tank-top he wore. She pushed the questions down and began to gently knead the man's lower back. Once she started feeling the knots in his muscles, she'd work them out a little deeper.

"Oh god..." Merle closed his eyes as his muscles slowly were loosened up. He hadn't felt hands that smooth across his skin in years. He hadn't always run into the most sheltered of women to be fair. But man, he didn't realize that he needed this so badly. "Girl, ya can make traps, fish, climb almost anything, you're as pretty 'n smooth as a flower, 'n ya got hands that move 'n heal like an angel's. What can't ya do?"

"I don't know how to shoot big guns." She admitted and hesitated at her next answer. "And I can't stop myself from caring..."

Chapter Text

You were planning on going outside with Merle during the afternoon, but to your surprise, the older man was ready to go around the time the sun began to rise. You were sitting in the living room, counting the supply of matches you had left, figuring you'd have to go out soon and find more. You heard heavy steps come down the stairs and you looked up to find Merle. He looked wide awake and had a small bag slung over his shoulder.

"What's that?" You nodded to his bag.

"Change of clothes." He answered, though you merely raised your eyebrow in confusion. He huffed, though a grin came to his face. "I haven't bathed fer two weeks, girl. I thought maybe ya'd show me tah the river."

"You're going skinny-dipping?!"

"Well, how do ya people get cleaned around here?" Merle raised his own eyebrow.

"... Usually Dad and I gather some buckets of water and fill up the tub upstairs." You answered honestly, giving a slight shrug. "We only do it once a month... Or if we get covered with undead grime."

"Sounds like it will take too long. 'Sides some cold water could do wonders for my ribs." Merle began to make his way to the front door, but noticed your lack of movement. He stopped and frowned, looking you over. "Whatcha doing sitting around. Let's go."

"Maybe my dad should take you. He's better at guns and could probably do a better job at keeping watch while you wash up." You offered, as you felt embarrassment begin to twist your stomach around. If your father heard about the stuff going down, he'd shut down this walk in an instance.

"I'll be honest with ya, sugah, I'd feel safer with you around than yer old man." Merle noticed your continued hesitance and chuckled, joking lightly. "Ya act as if you've never seen a man naked before."

"..."

"Ya know." Merle dropped his bag on the counter and gave you a pointed look. "This is the part where ya get mad at me for making such a stupid assumption."

"..." You ran your hands through your hair, avoiding eye contact. "I have seen a naked man before... Just not in person."

"You're pullin' mah leg."

"Why would I about this?" You shot the man a hard look, as his expression dropped.

"Nah, a pretty thing like you? Ya were late in college before all this, right?"

"Yes, so what?"

"No way you're a virgin. Not with yer age and looks." Merle shook his head. "Girls where I lived were lucky tah be virgins when they were eighteen."

"Well, I'm not like the girls you know, Merle Dixon." You sighed and got to your feet, attaching your ice picks to your sides. "Let's go."

"What changed yer mind?" Merle watched you step over.

"I rather go keep watch while you skinny-dip than continue with this conversation." You reached out and opened the door, stepping out. "Come on."

Merle didn't question you further, as he stepped out after you. Locking and shutting the door behind him.

~

You both quietly stepped through the trees, much to your surprise. You thought Merle's steps would be loud and thunderous, sending all undead in your direction. But the moment he stepped onto the dirt, his steps became soft and light. You wondered how he did it with his bigger build and an injury on top of that.

You looked at the older man walking beside you and once you saw his expression, you understood how he did it. He looked relaxed, but determined. His eyes glinted with a wistfulness, as if he missed the outdoors. Which you were sure he did. He almost looked nostalgic and that's why it clicked for you.

The outdoors is where he felt his best and his most natural. That's why his footsteps quieted. It's like getting back on a bike after a long period of time. You're a bit rough at first, but the muscle memory kicks in and it's almost like you never got off the bike.

"Ah, fresh air." Merle took a deep breathe, a smile coming to his face. You brushed your hair back, feeling yourself relax, though you couldn't help continuing to glance at the man next to you.

Merle looked over, having felt your stares and looked at you questionably.

"What is it?" He asked, not bothering to lower his voice.

"Nothing." You smiled a little and looked ahead. "You just look younger out here. Much more relaxed."

"Felt like a bird trapped in a cage in yer home, sweetcheeks." Merle stretched his arms out, flexing the fingers on his one hand. "No offense."

"I guess I can't blame you. No one likes to be stuck inside for too long." You both walked a little longer, before the sounds of the river began to reach your ears. You looked around for any sign of undead, knowing it'd be harder to be aware of them with the added noise. The river came into sight and you both stopped beside it. Merle opened his bag and removed a faded towel, glancing at you.

"Might want to avert yer virgin eyes, sugah, at least until I get into the water." A smirk came to the redneck's face as he licked his teeth. "Or you can keep watchin' if you want to."

"Nope, I'm turning down that offer." You turned around and faced the other way, checking the surroundings for any undead.

You noticed one stumbling off in the distance and you decided to get rid of it so it wouldn't be a problem later. You unhooked an ice pick and stepped over. The undead moaned and turned its attention to you as you approached. With a hard, downward swing, you lodged the end of your pick into the creature's head. The being went limp, dead.

You pressed your foot against the chest of the once living being and pushed it off, releasing your pick. You frowned at the dirtied blood on your blade, as you stepped back over to the river. Merle had already gotten into the river, as he leaned up against its side, giving you a view of the top of his back. There was those scars, again. You pushed those questions down, as you bent down and washed off your blade.

"How's the water?" You asked, stepping back up and wiping the water off your blade with your pants.

"Cold as hell." Merle answered, as he cupped his one hand, splashing some water up into his face. "Phew! I'm definitely awake now!"

"Well, you better not stay in too long. Last thing we need is you getting sick or frostbite." You walked over to a tree and sat down to rest your feet, though you kept your eyes up to watch the tree line.

"You'd like it, girl. Definitely could loosen ya up." Merle glanced back at you with a slight grin.

"And have no one watching us? I rather not risk our safety."

"Please, I could take out a biter with one hand. Which is good, since it's all I got." Merle turned himself around, leaning his elbows up in the dirt. "Or I could take watch for ya."

~Merle's P.O.V.~

"You're pretty bold, Dixon. You're lucky my dad isn't around, he'd have wrung your neck a thousand times over by now." ___ scoffed, brushing some of her hair behind her ear and leaned back against the tree she was resting on. Merle put on a mask of teasing, though inside his chest tightened. Not because of his fractured ribs, though they still held a numbing pain. The plan was too good. He didn't see any flaw in it.

The towel he brought out, hung on a low branch of a tree and obscured the gun Merle had snuck away. He had found the weapon in the cellar.

It'd be easy. The girl had only brought her picks and derringer. One swift movement, there'd be a bullet in her head and he could leave. His bag was packed with spare clothes like he had said, but also bags of chips and granola bars he had hid away from his meals. He could live long enough to get back to the prison.

But there was one problem with his plan. He couldn't bring himself to shoot the girl.

He kept urging himself in his mind. But even when he built up the nerve, he'd look at her, again, and feel all that spirit leave him. He just ended up feeling sick, again. Merle closed his eyes as he leaned his forehead against his arms. He focused on the chilling water that flowed past him.

He could do it if it was her father. That Doctor. But not her. Merle berated himself for being such a pansy. He killed plenty of other people before this, what was stopping him now?

Merle rubbed a hand gently over his stump, as he opened his eyes, again. The girl had stood up to dispatch a walker that had appeared from deeper in the forest.

Merle sighed and dunked his head into the water, before reemerging from the water. He pulled himself out of the river, even with one hand, and picked up his towel. He dried himself off, slipping the gun he had back into his bag. Merle dried his hair as best as he could, before tossing the towel back across the branch.

He withdrew his spare clothes from his bag and began to slip them on. They were just some clothes he had found in the home that were in his size. They weren't anything fancy, much to Merle's relief. Merle slipped on his clothes, adjusting the navy blue slacks. As he began to button up the cream color dress shirt, the girl had returned.

She seemed to halt in her tracks for a moment, but continued, relieved to see Merle dressed. Merle ran a hand through his hair as he smiled at her.

"Missed quite a show, sweetheart." He teased.

"I don't feel bad about missing out." The girl rolled her eyes. But Merle was relieved she hadn't seen the gun. Because he might've had to use it then.

"Yeah, maybe it's good ya didn't see."

"Feel better?"

"Much. Thanks." Merle stretched his back, rolling his shoulders as he focused his gaze on the girl. "Guess we should head back?"

"It wouldn't hurt to stay out a little longer." The girl, ___, offered him a soft smile as she took lead once more. Merle exhaled before allowing a small smile to come to his features, before following after the girl. He ignored the gun that sat in his bag that hung across his shoulder.

~

The two walked around the area for another ten minutes, before returning to the cabin. ___'s father was cooking some fish in the fireplace as he looked over at the two's return. He gave ___ a relieved smile, though a dark look crossed his eyes as he glanced at Merle.

"I'm glad I was forewarn about your little walk in the forest. I had almost forgotten and began to panic." Doctor ruffled ___'s hair, before kissing her head. "Everything went alright, I hope?"

"We were fine, Dad. A few walkers crossed our path, but I got rid of them real quick." ___ assured. Doctor seemed to freeze up for a moment, causing ___ to frown. "Is something wrong, Dad?"

"Just... Not used to you calling them walkers." Doctor chuckled half-heartedly as he released his daughter's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess it's... Just rubbed off on me." ___ scratched the back of her neck, glancing at Merle. Doctor saw the glance and wouldn't be forgetting it anytime soon.

~

A month spent at the house was nearing and everyone had grown accustom to each other's company. The doctor still didn't completely trust Merle, but he wouldn't watch him warily as he entered a room or keep track of where he was. He figured by this point his daughter could tear up the man if she had to. He did try to at least keep an eye on the strange man when he was around his daughter. He never did anything, but the doctor had a creeping feeling that he just might.

Of course, the hesitance and strain that was between Merle and ___ had gradually faded away. When she wasn't out checking traps, getting rid of walkers, cooking meals, or just giving an hour to herself to climb trees, the girl spent her time with the redneck. It had been a while since she had someone to talk to who wasn't her father, and it was nice talking about stuff she normally couldn't around her parents. In return for the company, ___ would do her best to help ease Merle's rib pains, help him around the house, read to him, take walks with him, and even stretch with him.

"No, no, not today, sugah." Merle ignored the girl that stood at the side of the sofa he lied on.

"Merle, you got to. Your ribs will hurt more if you sit down and do nothing about it." You placed a hand on your hip. "Get up, Merle, or I'll push you off."

"I'd like to see ya try."

"Do you really want to test that? I could end up making your injury worse."

"..." Merle glanced up at the girl, looking to see if there was any lying revealed in her eyes. She looked set in stone, dead serious. "Fine, but only because I don't want tah stay longer here than I have to."

"Good choice." ___ smiled as Merle pushed himself off the couch to join her in some stretching. After asking the doc' about it, Merle was provided with some small weight training equipment.

The redneck noticed his arms had weakened in his state and decided to build up the muscle in his own time. Once he got his gauntlet back, Merle wanted to be able to swing so hard at his enemies that it would be like slicing through butter. Merle had a little trouble trying to figure out how to work-out his stumped arm. He'd bicep curl with his left arm, with his hand, for about thirty minutes everyday. Though it was uncomfortable at first, Merle would would perform push-ups, flat on his stump.

It was a strange feeling, but it did its work. His muscles would burn afterwards, but everyday the exercises would become easier to manage. Day by day, the sting from his ribs would die down, too.

"Think maybe it healed early?" Merle asked the doctor one day.

"It might feel that way, but that's because the bones are finally settling into place." Doctor carefully checked each of Merle's ribs. "You'll still need two weeks for a full recovery. Your bones will be nice and strong by then."

"So, that's all I'm waitin' for. My bones tah get strengthened, again?" Merle raised an eyebrow.

The day Merle decided to not kill the girl and run, he had sliced open a small pocket in his mattress to hide the gun. He was not surprised to find, a week later, the doctor looking through the drawers of the room. Merle leaned on the doorway and watched the old man.

"Lookin' for something?" Merle spoke up, causing the doctor to jump. The man turned to face Merle and seemed to visibly relax.

"Spare supplies. ___ and I will have to go on a supply run soon. I was just checking for anything around to bide us for a while." Doctor slid the drawer shut and looked to Merle. "If you see anything around, you'll tell us. Right?"

"Of course, I don't have anything tah hide." Merle nodded, allowing a grin to slip to his face. He lied through his teeth, but it wouldn't be the first or last time he did. That supply run the old man had mentioned was something that finally came up. Merle found the two family members packing for the morning trip.

"It's a no, ___." Doctor shut down whatever he and ___ were talking about.

"Come on, Dad. He could really help." ___ sighed and looked to Merle. "You want to get out, right? I told my dad you should come with, but he says you're not strong enough, yet."

"He isn't. What if we need to run? Or climb a fence? He's in no condition for something like that, yet." Doctor glanced at Merle. "Maybe next time."

"Yer dad's right, sugah." Merle leaned against the stair railing as he looked back to ___. "It's best I stay behind. Last thing I need is tah slow ya both down. Besides, you two could use someone holdin' down the fort."

"You sure?" ___ frowned a little.

"Sure as the sun shines, sweetheart." Merle continued down the stairs. "Anything you want done while ye're gone?"

"We checked the traps already." Doctor sighed. "Keep an eye around the house, make sure no undead get near here."

"Any suggestions on how I dispose of them?" Merle raised an eyebrow. The man hasn't provided him with any weapon. Doctor looked over Merle, before the side of his mouth quirked up.

"'Bout time you got it back anyway."

~

Merle couldn't turn off the grin that lit his face. His gauntlet was returned to him and he made quick work of slipping it back on and fastening it to his arm. He felt much less vulnerable now. The blade was still hastily duck-taped back into place.

"Maybe I can help fix that up tomorrow." ___ offered as she watched Merle pull on the weapon. She nodded to the amateur repair. "Find some tools and we can screw that blade back into place."

"If ya get the time." Merle looked to the girl. "You know how tah fix and tighten stuff like this?"

"I've worked with a variety of snow gear. I could probably figure it out." ___ locked gazes with him and smiled. "How'd you make that anyway? It's awesome."

"Had help designin' it..." Merle frowned as he ran his fingers across the cool metal. "But I made it all myself."

"A friend?" ___'s expression softened, her eyes saying he didn't have to continue.

"Heh... The only one I could consider a friend back at mah old group." Merle bit the inside of his cheek as he looked up at the girl who stood above him. He knew she'd start asking question about it, but she seemed to brush it aside for now. She gave him a sorrowful smile, before she absentmindedly tapped the ice picks attached to her sides.

"We'll be back about five hours from now, at most. It will be dark, so... Keep the lights low and stay safe, alright?" ___ searched Merle for a sign that her worry could be at ease while she was gone.

"You worryin' about me, girl? I'm flattered." Merle teased, thought the girl's smile only grew at the comment.

"Can't help it, I guess." She stepped over to the bedroom door and stopped in the entrance. "See you later, Merle."

Merle didn't respond as he watched her leave the room. He waited for fifteen minutes to pass after he heard the front door shut. Once the time was up, he stood and went through the house, making sure no one was left behind. They both were long gone. Merle quickly set to work.

He fished out his gun and bag from the slit he created in the mattress, throwing the bag over his shoulder and shoving the pistol into the back of his pants. Merle rummaged through the kitchen and looked for any other snacks he could stash away, doing so when he did find some. He mourned the wine he would never be able to have, but decided he'd scavenge for a good drink later.

Once he had everything together, Merle stepped outside to begin his trek back to the prison. He did lock the house's door behind him. The family had given him enough, the least he could do was lock up their home. The redneck began to follow the road down through the forest, hoping the light would stay with him at least to his crashed car. He could find his way back from there.

Merle had a ways to go by foot, so he decided to let his thoughts wander as he followed the ruined street. The two wouldn't be worried to see him gone, they'd more likely be relieved. Except maybe not the girl, she'd be upset. Merle frowned. What did he care what she thought? He wasn't going to be caged anymore.

Time slowly ticked by and Merle decided to arrange what he was going to say when he got back. It'd be different depending who greeted him at the prison.

With Daryl, it'd be easy. All Merle would have to do is grin and make a one-liner. Like, "How's it goin', baby brother? Miss me?" Then Daryl would just roll his eyes, but welcome his brother back in with open arms.

With Officer Friendly, he might have to make an excuse. Tell him about how he was gonna deliver the black woman, because everyone else was pussying out. But he'd remind him, that he let her go, that he also had a change of heart.

Any of the women there, he'd just have to remind them that his brother was in there and that unless they wanted him upset, they'd better go get him.

Except maybe Michonne... If she were there to greet him, Merle would have to play carefully. He'd remind her of the freedom he granted her and say something about how he was, "Happy to see yer alright." Even if it was an obvious lie.

He hoped the Chinese kid wasn't there to greet him or his farmer girl. They'd sooner put a bullet in his head than welcome him back in. Merle scowled at the thought. He thought he was tough at holding grudges.

But Merle hoped the last two options wouldn't be what greeted him. A prison filled with walkers or worse... The Governor himself.

He rather have anyone, anyone but that man. If Merle saw so much as an eyepatch, he'd turn and head back into the woods. He got away from that man once, he wasn't going back to him. Merle would sooner die than that.

The light from the sun slowly began to drop behind the trees and Merle frowned at the receding light. He slowed his walk and opened his bag, shifting through it. He was surprised to find something at the bottom that wasn't there originally.

Merle removed a jar of pills, pain relievers, with a note rubber-banded around it. Merle slipped out the note and unfolded it. He went over to stand under a tree that had clearer light filtering through it so he could read the note.

"Merle,

I saw you cutting through the mattress earlier this week and I was sure you were looking for stuffed away drugs or something. I know you won't like to hear it, but I did find your stash. I was surprised by the gun, but after a few restless nights and neither of us killed, I knew I could trust you. You could have killed us both at this point, but you didn't. Thank you.
I know you will try to leave or maybe you will wait, whatever option you picked, this is my farewell to you. I don't regret stopping my father to help you out. You're a good guy and your group is lucky to have you. Safe journeys, and maybe one day our paths will cross, again.
If your ribs start aching or if anything else turns up, take these.

-___"

Merle frowned as he rolled the pill bottle in his hand. Where'd this girl come from? And what made her think that he was a good guy?

'Your group is lucky to have you.' What a load of bullshit. Merle's frown deepened as he looked back up the road. He wanted to get back to his brother, but he was also rushing back to a group that wasn't hoping to see him okay. Maybe his brother, but... He couldn't think of another soul there that'd be glad to see him.

Maybe his brother's lady friend, Carol, but Merle was not getting his hopes up. Merle rolled the pros and cons through his head, before he decided. He'd wait out here until his ribs were healed, than he would leave. He wouldn't overstay his welcome, but he wouldn't leave like a jackass either.

With his decision set, Merle turned around and began to make his way back to the cabin. The benefit that made him to decide to stay until he was healed? He had found someone else in this screwed up world that didn't hate him.

~Reader's P.O.V.~

You returned home late with your father that night. You pulled off a decent scavenge, enough to last you both another month. When you returned home, you found the house completely dark, though it wasn't a surprise. Merle was smart enough to know not to let light peak through those windows.

Your father unlocked the door and stepped in with you, you both dropped off your load on the counter. Your father relocked the door, before looking to the stairs.

"I'll check the upper floor first... Just in case." Your father excused himself, as you shook your head. He worried too much. Merle could defend himself and he wasn't going to hurt either of you anytime soon.

After you packed away your pantry and cupboards, your father returned down the stairs. He looked at you, looking a little annoyed.

"Everything is where it should be. That idiot is passed out upstairs." Your father muttered.

"Good, he should be resting." You cracked your fingers and walked to the stairs. "It's been a tough week."

"All he does is sit around." Your father argued.

"I rather have him do that than anything you thought he would." You called back, disappearing up the stairs. You walked over and stopped in Merle's doorway. The man was lying flat on his back, his arm dangling off the bed beside him. His stump was in clear view, as he had removed his bayonet and set it on his table side. He looked relaxed and you were happy to see it, deciding to retire to your own bedroom.

Chapter Text

"'If I were here," she had said, "I would never come back. Not for a house in Glencoe, not for the children, not for anything. It is too humiliating." "Why? She loves him. What does it matter?" "It matters that we know about it," she said." You read from the book, as Merle lied in bed, his eyes closed. You knew he wasn't asleep, his breathes weren't deep enough for it, so you continued to read on. "'Suppose nobody knew about it? Then would it be humiliating?" "I would know," she said, "and you would know. That's enough."

"What a bitch." Merle peeked an eye open and turned his head to look at you. "Her son dies and she thinks it's embarrassin'? That woman should be shot for the way she talks 'n thinks."

"A little defensive there, aren't you?" You smiled a little.

"If there's one thing I'm against, it's killin' kids." Merle shook his head. "I might've killed a few people, but that doesn't mean I act like it didn't happen. I ain't sayin' they all deserved it either. 'N if someone I cared about died, I wouldn't be embarrassed. I'd remember them in honor, like they should be. The rest can go 'n burn in hell."

"I'm glad you wouldn't pretend I didn't exist if I died, Merle." You ran your finger up the spine of the book as you looked down. There was a pause, before Merle spoke up a little more hushed.

"Sure, sugah. I wouldn't forget ya and I wouldn't try to either." You looked back up to see Merle with both eyes open, but both unreadable. He licked his chapped lips, as he seemed to gather words together. "I saw what ya left me. In mah pack."

"Huh?" But a simple look in his eyes reminded you of the pain relievers you'd slipped him. You felt yourself tense, but you kept eye contact. "So... You tried to leave."

"But I came back." Merle scratched his side as he tore his eyes away from you. "But as soon as my injury is healed up, I'm gone."

"Alright... If you say so." You slowly eased up as your eyes flickered back down to the pages of your book. You held it up, again, and found your place. "A thrill of fear had touched him. Is it that some people are not given a capacity for forgiveness, just as some are cheated out of beauty by a pointed nose, or not allowed the adequate amount of brain matter? It is not in her nature to forgive."

~

You had woke up that morning with a bad feeling in your stomach. You thought maybe it was just because you were hungry, but after sitting down to eat some bass and potato chips, that feeling didn't leave. It was a gut feeling.

So, you left the house to see if something was wrong outside of it. Your traps were empty, the net at the river had only caught some trash and weeds, which you quickly removed. You chopped down about five or six walkers, and the area seemed clear enough. What was up?

You climbed through the branches of trees to check over the horizon, but nothing. But you did notice the grey in the clouds off in the distance. You frowned. It was going to rain today. And you were right. A couple hours after you returned home, the gentle thuds of raindrops hit the roof of the house and the panes of the windows.

"Looks like that rain is going to last through the night." Your father announced, as he drew the curtains. "You better stay in. I don't want you catching a cold."

"Sounds like the best plan." You added another log of wood to the fireplace. You hadn't seen Merle since this morning and you were surprised he wasn't down by the fireplace. The whole place was getting cold from the downpour outside.

"___." You looked put to your father, who stepped over and sat down beside you on the sofa. He seemed to hesitated for a moment, but he sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I wanted to apologize..."

"For what?"

"I had doubts about bringing Merle in... I didn't think there was good people left in the world. Not that I think the man is good, but... He's still human." Your father nodded solemnly as he looked to the burning fire. "I misjudged him and I hope I can put down my pride for a moment to apologize to him, too."

"It's not too late. You still could." You pointed out.

"I'll think about it tonight... But I'm sorry I didn't believe in your judgement." Your father brought up his hand and cupped your cheek, a half-hearted smile coming to his face. "You've grown so much... Become much stronger, stronger than I ever was... I know that you have good judgement in character and that relieves me during these times... Your mother would be proud to see how well you've done..."

"..." You didn't feel it in your heart, but you felt a couple tears fall across your cheeks. You didn't feel sad, just empty. A feeling you had grown too familiar with. Your words were just as empty. "Thanks, Dad."

You both sat in the flickering light with the silence hung in the air. Both with a fake smile on your face. Both with a burden in your hearts and suppressed memories. Finally, you couldn't stand it any longer and stood to your feet, your father's hands drifting away from you.

"I'm going to go check on Merle." You picked up your ice picks and walked past your father and into the kitchen. You wiped away your tears and went to head for the stairs, but stopped. You noticed the closet door cracked open and frowned, making your way over. You grabbed a lit candle and opened the closet, finding the trapdoor to the cellar open. The familiar smell of smoke reached your nose and you frowned, heading down into the depths.

Another candle was already set at the other end of the room, courtesy of the Dixon. You set your own candle down and frowned disapprovingly at the man, seated at the end of the room. He sat back on the wood bench in the cellar, a cigarette between his lips. He had heard your descent down and a smirk came to his face, as his sights focused on you.

"You're not seriously doing that while trying to heal your ribs, right?" You scowled and stepped over.

"Just tryin' to kill myself before the walkers do, darlin'." Merle removed the bud and flicked some ash away. "Found a pack shoved underneath one of the bottles. Couldn't resist it."

"This might sound weird, Dixon. But I actually don't want to see you kill yourself from the inside out." You stopped in front of him and held out your hand. "Give me the pack."

"Aw, come on, sugah. Don't be such a tightass. We can share them, if you'd like. A little secret between me and you." Merle took a long drag, before blowing some smoke into your face. "Live a little."

"I will when I'm dead." You easily reached out and plucked the cigarette away from Merle's lips. The man grabbed your wrist with his one hand, as you went to pull away, sending you a crossed look. The first you'd seen from him.

"Ya want to play with fire, girl?" He growled lightly. You frowned a little, flicking the cigarette away. The bud hit the ground, still burning a little.

"I don't want to, not like this. I just don't want to see you destroy yourself, Merle."

"You ain't in charge of me though, are ya?" Merle continued to hold you by the wrist, as his expression slowly softened. His eyes flickered over your face. He opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped himself, his brows furrowing. "Yer eyes are red. You've been cryin'?"

You didn't answer, though you did allow your features to soften as you gave him a pleading look. Merle released your wrist as you turned away, rubbing at the place where he held you. Merle bent down and picked up the cigarette. He snubbed out its embers, but pocketed the bud to be used later.

"Sorry if I scared ya, but you should know better than to tell a man what to do." Merle argued, trying to excuse his own actions.

"I shouldn't boss you around, but that's not because of the sex I am." You shot him a look, before turning and heading to the cellar stairs.

"Hey, now!" Merle called out and you stopped, allowing him to go on. "I don't know what ya want, sweetheart. I'm not someone who usually apologizes 'n that's the best you'll get from me. So, what do ya want? For me tah cry? Beg? Because ya ain't gettin' it!"

"I don't want you to apologize!" You snapped back, glancing over your shoulder at him. You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "It's not you... I... I just wish people were easy to read... Like walkers..."

"... You 'n me both, sugah." Merle relaxed his own shoulders, appearing to be relieved that he didn't need to apologize, again. You looked over the man, happy yourself that the tensions between you both weren't bad. You made your way up the cellar stairs and was surprised to find your father in the kitchen, looking out the window at something.

"Dad?"

"Get back in the cellar, ___." Your father stated, not daring to look back at you. "There's a car outside, a man. Get back in the cellar. Don't come back up until I tell you to."

"Dad, no. You need to come with. We can hide until he leaves." Your felt your heart begin to race as you urged him over.

"He already spotted me. All he knows is that one man is in the house. If things go wrong, he'll suspect I'm the only one here. He doesn't know about you or Merle. ___, please, just..." Your father sighed. "Get in the cellar."

"Dad... I love you..." You retreated into the cellar, closing the closet door behind you and pulling the cellar trap door shut. Merle approached as you stopped at the foot of the cellar stairs, frowning.

"Girl, yer as pale as a ghost. What the hell is goin' on?" Merle asked, stopping in front of you.

"My father. He saw a man outside, in a car. He wants us to stay down here, until... Until he comes to get us." You answered, your hands beginning to shake slightly. "He should be down here with us."

Merle didn't say anything as he brushed past you and made his way up the stairs. You followed him up and went to question him, but he quickly shushed you. He stopped at the trapdoor. He held his bladed arm in a striking position, in case anyone were to suddenly open the trapdoor. You both stilled your breaths and listened.

You heard the front door open and shut with a slam. You heard footsteps step across the floor, the floorboards creaking at points. You heard your father's voice speak up, though his words were muffled. Another voice joined his, it wasn't raised and you couldn't pinpoint the man's motivation though his voice. But Merle had a different, much more large reaction to the new voice.

Merle's face paled and his muscles tightened, before he gripped your shoulder and urged you back down the stairs. You looked to him, wanting an answer to his uneasiness. What had scared him?

"That man..." Merle's voice barely picked up, a husk to his normal volume. You could barely hear it. "That's the Governor."

"Who?" You whispered back.

"The leader of mah last group... He's a psycho. He kills anything 'n anyone that he doesn't know about. Killin', it's a past time of his." Merle answered, his eyes not leaving the trapdoor. Your hopes, your fears... You felt the biggest pit in your stomach form. Your father was going to die.

You bolted past Merle to the stairs, your hands going to your picks. Before you could reach the first step, you were tackled to the ground. You slipped out a pick and slashed up at Merle, but he caught your wrist and easily twisted the pick out of your hand. He kicked it out of your reach, before you reached for your other one. He stabbed his knife in your way and grabbed the other pick with his hand, tossing it to the side.

You growled up at the man on top of you and threw all your weight into pushing him off. With the aid of his sensitive ribs, he did topple over and you crawled up to your feet. You made it a feet steps up, but an arm came around your waist and the other around your chest. Merle brought you down with him as he pressed his back against the wall of the cellar, your struggles not budging him. He moved his arm from around your chest to cover your mouth with his one hand.

Finding you couldn't twist yourself out, you resorted into biting Merle's hand. You drew some blood and Merle let out a sharp curse. You felt the blade of his other arm press dangerously close to your side, as Merle brought his face beside yours.

"I suggest ya stop now, girl. I don't want to cut ya up." Merle hissed into your ear. You stopped biting Merle, the sickening taste of his hands and blood in your mouth.

You continued to struggle, trying to find some way out. But before you could think of an idea, a gunshot rang out. You heard something thud against the floor above and suddenly what little light you had in you was smothered out. You went limp against Merle's arms and he held you closer, as footsteps calmly walked above. You felt that feeling you had, when you watched your mother die. Despair.

You began to shake from your sobs, as tears spilled from your eyes. You clenched your eyes shut and curled in on yourself, wishing that maybe now... Now you would wake up to find that all of this was a dream. But you knew in your heart, it wasn't.

Merle removed his hand from your mouth and turned you around, frowning at your broken form. He pulled you into him, so you could cry into his chest, quieting the noises you were making. He held you with his one good arm and left his other hanging at his side. The redneck kept his focus on the cellar doors, praying to God that he wouldn't have to get up and fight.

~

You both stayed down a few more hours after the front door had slammed shut. Merle didn't want to step out with you into some gunfire that could be awaiting the both of you. After deeming the amount of time to be sufficient, Merle stepped up with you and opened the trapdoor to the cellar, opening the closet. The redneck looked to you, his expression set in stone. He knew you were hurting.

"Want me tah go check out the scene? Maybe cover him up for ya?" Merle asked.

"No." You slowly shook your head, your face a mask of emotionless. You felt like it on the inside, too. The only hint that emotion was there was your red, puffy eyes and the tear tracks across your cheeks. You had cried for a long time. "I have to see this... I can't pretend it didn't happen."

"Alright. I'll be right beside ya, girl." Merle nodded to forward and you stepped ahead. The windows showcased the dark night having already fallen. You turned the corner and faced the living room, already seeing a familiar pair of shoes sticking up. You were horrified, but you continued to step forward, knowing you needed to see it. You stopped in front of the body, looking it over.

Your father was unscathed, aside from the brutal hole between his eyes. Blood poured from the wound and stained the rug below him. Your father's eyes were wide open, looking off in a dead-state. He was lifeless and his skin was already beginning to pale.

Your lips trembled, but the only response from you was a couple more tears to drop from your eyes. You knew what you were going to see. You step over and sat down beside your father's side, reaching up to carefully close his eyes. You gently touched your father's face, trying to memorize every line, how his ears curved, the shape of his nose... You didn't want to forget.

The memory of your mother was already growing fuzzy, you didn't want the memory of your father to be fuzzy, too.

"We will have to bury him in the mornin'." Merle spoke up. "If that's what ya want to do with him."

"My mother didn't get the same... The least we can do is give it to him." You answered softly back. You felt a sharp pain in your heart and you couldn't help, but blame Merle for all of this. You knew this wasn't his fault, but you couldn't help think that he let it happen. "Why did you stop me? I could've saved him."

"With no gun? The Governor would've shot ya dead before ya could make it into this room. Or worse..." Merle trailed off, and you didn't want to imagine what he could be implying with his words.

"It could have given my dad the chance to kill that man." You tried to reason.

"Don't get survivor's guilt on me, sweetheart. There's nothing ya could've done."

"I could've died!" You snapped and looked back to Merle. "At least that way I wouldn't be alone... He was all I had left..."

Your shoulders shoke as you began to quietly cry, again. You hunched over and tried to hide your broken composure from the man, knowing it was futile to do so. You're thoughts were jumbled and hollowed. All you wanted at the moment was to be held by both your parents, to hear their voices, and to be loved. You wanted to be in the mountains with them.

"Merle... Kill me... Please..." You begged, looking back to the one-handed man.

"The hell? I ain't killin' you, girl!" Merle growled and stepped over, to stand above you. "Stop talkin' like that!"

"I have nothing, Merle. What's the point of living when I have nothing to live for?" You argued. "You don't have to waste a bullet. Just, please, do something."

"..." Merle looked furious and he seemed to want to say many, many things, but stopped himself. A minute passed in silence as the Dixon calmed his fury down. Merle exhaled and looked to you, his expression relaxing somewhat. "I know this all seems like... Shit... But yer wrong, sugah. Ya don't got nothing."

"What do I have then?"

"You got yerself a nice pair of ice picks to stab into the heads of walkers, you got your brain which knows more than any female I've ever met, and you know what? Ya got something that only one other person in this world's got." Merle kneeled down, so his face was level with yours. "Yer on my good side. That means I'm not gonna let you die without a fight."

"..." You sniffed and brushed away a few of your tears. "What do you mean?"

"Ya got me, darlin'. But I'm not forcing ya into anything. You choose yer life and I choose mine. I'm just sayin'..." Merle thought over his words, before he locked gazes with you, again. "Ya got someone in this world who doesn't hate you. If that's something worth livin' for."

You didn't have a response for Merle. You didn't know what to think. But you felt slightly grateful for his honest words. If you learned anything about this man, he was bluntly honest to the point it hurts. Merle noticed your hesitance and rose back to his feet.

"Ya got a whole day to think on it. We will rest your old man in the mornin', I'll help fix up lunch, and after that you can make up your mind. I'll be leavin' then. My ribs are 'bout healed anyways. That enough time, sweetheart?" Merle looked to you, expecting at least a 'Yes or No' answer. You couldn't speak, so you gave the man a nod. It would be enough time.

~

After a quick look around, it would appear the Governor did somewhat ransack the house. He took all the packaged food, ignoring uncooked meats. He even stole a couple water bottles you had filled up. You hoped that guy would get killed gruesomely one day. Merle seemed to feel the same.

You cleaned up a little, what you could without running water, and stepped into your bedroom. Your shared bedroom. You frowned, noticing your father's belongings strewn across the room. It was haunting, almost like walking into the same murder scene downstairs.

You couldn't sleep in here.

You picked up your traveling bag and walked around the room, putting away all your items. Once you stuffed away everything you could find at the moment, you grabbed the comforter of the bed and stepped out of the bedroom. You tiptoed across the hall and tried to think of somewhere to sleep. You couldn't sleep in the living room on the sofa, it was right where your father was killed.

You could rest in the last open bedroom. It was still bare and it also had a mattress. You just hope you could get to sleep after the events of today.

"You alright, sugah?" Merle's voice broke your thoughts and you looked over to find him standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"I'm fine, just... I'm not sleeping in there tonight." You nodded to your bedroom. "Because well... You know..."

"Yeah, I get it." Merle glanced at the bag and comforter in your arms. He pursed his lips in thought, before looking back to you. "How 'bout you come and sleep in my room for the night?"

"What?" You were shocked at the offer, but you eyed the man in suspicion. Merle scoffed and shook his head.

"Yeah, I'm not doin' a girl the day her pop dies. I'm not that messed up. I'll grab yer mattress and we can sleep in the same room. Probably safer, too, if that killer is still 'round." Merle glanced out the window, as if he might spot the Governor. You felt a shiver of fear, but accepted Merle's offer. It probably would be safer. So with your help, Merle dragged your mattress into his room and you set up your bed for the night.

You lied down on the bed, resting your head on your pillows. Merle placed a chair in front of the bedroom door, preventing anyone from getting in. The redneck sighed and walked over, lying on his own bed. You both didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to be said.

You had a hard time trying to rest, the memories of today slashing across your conscious. You were waiting to wake up from this horrible nightmare. You decided to lie on your side and focus on Merle's sleeping form. You focused on his stump that lied across his chest.

You were able to fall asleep. You weren't sure how, the focus of your thoughts? Sharing a room with one living being you trusted after a hard day? Whatever it was, you were grateful. You hit that sleep hard.

~

When you woke up, you found a small breakfast made for you, sitting beside your mattress. There was some cooked squirrel with a granola bar, which you quickly ate up. You hooked your ice picks to your sides and exited the bedroom. Stepping outside, you found Merle burning a pile of walkers. You noticed a body wrapped in your father's sheets, placed by the side of the house.

"Mornin'." Merle greeted you, giving you a slight nod. "Was gonna dig him up a hole, but forgot a slight detail."

Merle held up his bladed arm, showing his inability to use a shovel for its intended purpose. You offered him a half-hearted smile as you stepped over and picked up the shovel. You found a clear area, beneath a tree and you drove the shovel into the ground. Slowly, you began to dig up a grave.

"You be as loud as you gotta be, sugah. I'll take out any biters that start approachin'." And that's how the time was spent. You gradually dug up a decent size grave for your father, as Merle dispatched any walkers that started to walk over from hearing the noises. Merle would drag the body into the burning corpses, but not before looting the creature first.

Hours passed and you were finally done. With Merle's help, you carefully lifted up your father and settled him into the hole in the ground. You got down and whispered your last farewells to your father. You stood, again, in silence. The redneck stepped away to continue with the walkers at the fire pit, as you began to refill the hole.

Another hour passed, and the hole was filled once more. You quickly scanned around, before spotting a large rock, that you dragged over. You placed it at the head of the grave. That way, if you ever came back, you'd know where he rested. You stood to your feet and looked to Merle.

"I'm done." You announced.

"Not a bad job ya did there." Merle nodded to the grave. "Let's cook up some lunch, rest our feet fer a bit."

~

As Merle cooked up the fish that was caught in your net, you sat at the dining room table and thought about your next actions. You had three options. One, you remained here and would survive on your own. Two, you went off on your own, to get away from this murder house, and found a new place to live by yourself. Or three, you went along with Merle and he'd take you with him to return to his group.

If anything of his group was still intact.

Every choice was risky and there was no telling how each scenario would turn out, but there was always scenario four. You knew how that one would end. Offing yourself. After a night and morning, you had made your decision. Merle walked over and handed you your plate of cooked fish, two helpings of it.

"Yer net caught a lot and since we won't be able to take some with us, we get to eat like kings before we... I go." Merle sat down across from you and began to rip the meat off its bare bones and eat it. He began to speak, despite still having food in his mouth. His manners were never there in the first place, you supposed. "So, did you decide what you want tah do?"

"Yeah..." You admitted and began to peel off strips of flesh from the fish, too. Merle looked to you expectantly, as you brought the meat to your mouth and chowed it down. You looked to him, your expression finally softening up this day. "Merle, can I go with you? I don't want to do this "end of the world" thing alone..."

"Heh." Merle's own features loosened up as he grinned at you. "Of course. Thought ya would never ask. Eat up, we got a lot of packin' to do."

~

You both packed everything. You got all your gear and clothes together, stuffing it into the passenger seat side of the car. Merle didn't have much, but what he did have was stuffed in the trunk along with all the food supplies you guys were bringing along. You grabbed some personal items, your rice bags, a couple books, your father's first aid kit, your ice picks, your derringer, and your father's rifle. Merle did manage to convince you into taking three bottles of wine.

You also went out and undid all your traps and pulled out your net. You could use them in the new location to help out.

The last thing to be packed up was your small mattress, which was slid into the backseat with all the other supplies. Merle had mentioned that the prison beds weren't the greatest and since your mattress was the only small one in good condition, you both decided to bring it along.

"You get it at night, I'll take it fer naps. Deal?" Merle had teased, though you did accept his little deal. The guy deserved to rest on something nice every now and then.

Everything was now packed and ready to go, as you both slipped into the front seats of the car. You held out the keys to Merle and he put them into the ignition, starting up the car with a roar. He tapped his blade against the dashboard as you recalled your last ride in the car with your father.

"Hey." You looked to Merle as he spoke up. He gave you a smirk, his one hand crossing over to grab the gearshift. "Ya know, there's no turnin' back."

"Yeah..." You nodded and looked to the road ahead. "I'm ready."

Merle shifted the car into drive and the car jolted forward to roll along the road. The house shrunk in the side view mirror and all that could be seen ahead was an old road covered in fallen leaves. The road clearly hadn't been taken care of in months and your car kicked up the leaves as you drove by.