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“You know, you could help out around here rather than feeling sorry for yourself.”
Merle lays the paperback down in his lap, turning the wheelchair to face Beth, who is eyeing him from outside the six-by-eight-foot cell that serves as his home these days. He knows he should consider himself lucky to be in the block where his brother and his brother’s newly claimed family are, rather than shuffled over to the residences the wary Woodbury refugees share. Generally, it means he’s left to fend for himself, although Carol’s made sure he stays fed, watered, and clothed.
“Not exactly much I can do, girlie. Down a leg and an arm, if you haven’t noticed.”
He keeps his voice quieter than he would with anyone else who needled him like this. Beth’s a kid, and besides, the fastest way to see his sorry ass on the wrong side of the prison’s protective fences would be to piss off this particular resident. Even Daryl wouldn’t defend him over an outraged Beth.
Losing his right hand hadn’t stopped him longer than it took for the remainder to heal and him to fashion some sort of cover before the makeshift prosthetic. But the shattered tibia and fibula from the gunshot wound? That’s knocked him flat on his ass for a longer period of time, and Hershel won’t even guarantee he’ll walk properly once that’s done. He can’t even use crutches, not with the missing hand.
Beth’s expression changes from impertinent to smug in a way that ought to have warned him as she steps into the cell and sets the plastic mail bin she’s carrying on his bunk. Merle doesn’t need the paper with its ‘Lil Asskicker’ label taped to the side to identify Judith’s makeshift cradle. She eyes his right arm, which is minus the metal prosthetic in favor of letting the skin air since he hadn’t figured on anyone bothering him.
“I think there’s enough of you to babysit Judith long enough for me to take a shower. She barfed on me, and I don’t feel like wearing it until someone slows down for ten minutes.”
He might not notice the curdled milk smell if she hadn’t pointed it out. Hygiene around the prison residents is less than stellar on the best of days. Spoiled milk is nothing compared to the rotting dead outside the fences, always clamoring to get in. But Beth and Carol both seem pretty devoted to smelling like ladies are supposed to, so he supposes it would irk her more than if the kid barfed on him instead.
Hesitating too long before refusing is apparently acceptance, because Beth plucks Judith out of the tub and plops her into his arms, whisking away his paperback. Instinct makes Merle shift his right arm under Judith and steady her wriggling form with his left hand.
“Dammit, Beth. I’m the last person you should hand a three-week-old baby to.”
Beth simply arches a brow at him, backing out into the walkway. “She just ate, but there’s a couple of spare diapers, some baby wipes, and a pacifier in the bin.”
Calling after Beth doesn’t result in anything except the damned minx walking faster to get out of earshot.
Sighing, he looks down at Judith, who blinks up at him with those weird slate-blue eyes most new babies have. She yawns before bopping him randomly with a fist.
“Seriously, Asskicker, we gotta have a talk with folks around her thinking I’m any sort of babysitter. Barely kept Daryl alive, and I had all my working parts when he was a baby.”
Judith yawns widely, exposing tiny bare gums but seems perfectly content to listen to him talk.
“What the hell, kid. Wanna read Stranger in a Strange Land?”
If the ten-minute shower Beth claimed to need ends up with her not returning for two hours, Merle finds he doesn’t care all that much. Judith eventually falls asleep, entertained by the sound of his voice in the way few adults would be, and instead of returning her to the blanket-lined plastic bin, he keeps her close.
It’s nice to have someone who doesn’t give a shit about all the asshole things he’s done in his life, even if she’s less than a month old.
That babysitting job leads to more. Beth can’t seem to go a day for a week straight without some dire need to leave Judith with him for at least a couple of hours. Merle considers giving the folks who should be tending Judith a piece of his mind that no one seems to even notice that Beth’s not just tending the baby, but raising her, but the odds that anyone other than Carol would listen are slim.
Next thing he knows, he’s wheeled outdoors, Judith in his lap, while Beth circles around the inner yard like it’s a regular afternoon stroll. He’s not entirely sure who is babysitting who at this point, and if he asks, the answer will probably make him pissy, so for once in his life, he doesn’t poke the beehive just to see what will happen.
“You even brought a picnic?”
“Of course. No sense in going back inside for you to eat all by yourself.”
Why is he surprised? He knew Beth hung something on the back of the wheelchair, but he’d just assumed it was a diaper bag for Judith. Instead, she’s managed to unfold a worn old blanket out on the grass before depositing a hodgepodge of items he figures she’s pilfered from the stores. Judith gets plopped onto her tummy, which means she starts bobbing her tiny head in an effort to keep an eye on everything.
Beth settles down next to Judith, opening a can of Dr. Pepper and sipping on it like it’s the best drink she’s ever had. Considering the limitation on finding sodas, Merle supposes she’s right to enjoy it. With a grunt of effort, he gets himself down to the blanket, too, rolling so that he’s on his right side and eye-to-eye with Judith. He gives her the biggest shit-eating grin he can manage.
He’s rewarded for that by a gummy smile that he can’t help responding to.
Food interests him far less than the company he’s got. No one seems to have noticed Beth leaving the baby with him while inside, but it’s always at times where Carol’s busy with all the new residents from Woodbury. They’ve usually got Hershel’s attention, too, so Merle only sees Beth’s father whenever he does the evening medical check on Merle’s slowly-healing leg. Glenn and Maggie sure as hell don’t want anything to do with him, tolerating his presence in their prison sanctuary only because they love Daryl too much to lose him again.
With Daryl and Michonne out searching for the Governor, Merle hasn’t seen his brother since right after he woke up from Hershel’s impromptu surgery to correct the damage done when Merle got himself shot in the leg fouling up the Governor’s plan to screw the prison residents over. Eventually, Daryl has to drift back to check in, Merle figures, if nothing else because Carol would want him to. If Merle’s lucky, Daryl will stop by to make sure Merle hasn’t caused any trouble.
As for Judith’s supposed blood kin, Merle can’t remember the last time he’s seen Officer Friendly, and if that kid of his gets any more sullen, he’ll implode from sheer teenage angst. Something’s happened between Beth and Carl, he knows, because instead of following her like a besotted puppy like he did before the prison was attacked, Carl can’t seem to stay far enough away.
Thing is, being out like this? People are bound to notice. Worse, he knows people are going to object. Man like him has no business around kids.
“How long’s she been grinning like this?” he asks, reaching out to run his fingers across Judith’s fluff of hair.
“Since this morning. So you’re the second person she’s ever smiled at, far as I know.”
“I’m assuming the first was you?”
Technically, the baby has an honest-to-god crib in Rick’s cell, wedged between the end of the bunk and the bars on the walkway, but the angle of Merle’s own cell allows him to see any comings and goings around Rick. He’s aware the placement is meant for the former cop to be able to keep an eye on him, the unstable ex-con, but the viewpoint goes both ways. Judith has never even entered that cell, far as Merle’s seen, unless it was in the small margin of time before things went even more tits up than usual.
“Of course. I was talking to her about how one day soon, we’re gonna have a garden here, and she’s gonna love getting to eat things that don’t taste like that yucky formula she keeps spitting up all over me.”
Merle laughs softly, which makes Judith smile again. “Getting a bit ahead in your plans there. She’s got a few months before she can eat mush. More than that before she’s got teeth to really enjoy something that don’t come out of a bottle.”
“Gonna take that long before we have anything to harvest anyway.” Beth scoffs, rolling her eyes at him. “Here, hold this.” He gets just enough warning to take the half-finished can of soda before she lets go of it before kicking her boots off, stripping off her socks, and wiggling her feet in the soft grass. “I miss going barefoot. Even as warm as it is, the floor is cold in my cell.”
Once she takes her soda back, Merle helps Judith roll over, since she’s tired of tummy time. He sits up finally, taking his share of the food as Beth passes it over. “You could spend more time outdoors. Fresh air ain’t gonna hurt Judith none.”
“Feels like she doesn’t need to see those all that much.” Beth waves a hand toward a few walkers who have wandered up to the exterior perimeter fence, stragglers who managed to find the fences after the morning crew put down those from overnight and dragged the bodies away.
“Pretty sure they’re just gonna be normal scenery for her. Kids get used to the weirdest things.”
Like how Daryl learned to be so damned quiet as a baby that Merle wondered if his baby brother would ever learn to speak. Noise in the home they grew up in was rewarded with angry tirades at best. At worst? Merle thought he’d taken the brunt of that, spared his brother everything he could. But in the end, he’d failed even in that.
At least Judith only has to worry most about dead things outside the fence. Merle might not like Rick one damn speck, but the worst thing the man will do with his little stepdaughter is ignore the kid, like he does now. He isn’t the type to smack a defenseless kid around.
If he was, well, Merle would just figure out a way that Rick didn’t return from one of his still regular jaunts into crazyland.
Time outdoors becomes a regular thing, too, on top of Merle watching the baby. He’s not sure what Beth does when he’s got Judith, but he hopes it’s something that isn’t someone else’s chore. The odd partnership finally comes to someone’s notice when Carol stops by, a scrap of paper in her hand and looking puzzled.
“Merle, I’ve got no problem finding you a carpet of some sort, but is it really a good idea with the wheelchair…”
Carol trails off as she looks up from the paper Merle had left in her cell to make the request, spotting Judith drooling on his chest. Wretched woman responds by giving him the sort of smile women reserve for puppies, kittens, and small children, and while he would like to blame it on Judith’s presence, he knows better.
“How long have you been spending time with her?”
“About ten days. Surprised it took this long for someone to notice.” As much as he’s come to enjoy time around Judith and Beth, he’s glad it’s Carol who discovered the arrangement first. She’ll at least be kind in saying it’s got to stop.
“The Woodbury people are like herding chickens. Or cranky toddlers. I can’t decide which.” Carol sits down on the bunk, making no move to take the baby from him. “Is she why you want a rug in here?”
Merle shakes his head. “Not for here. Beth needs one, and she won’t ask for something that’s not already in stores.”
It hadn’t taken him long to figure that out about Beth. She’s happy to take her share and make sure Merle gets his, but anything extra is special treatment in her eyes and she draws the line there. So he asked for her, figuring Carol would get it sorted either for his sake or Beth’s.
“I’ll put it on the next supply run list.”
Carol glances around his cell, which is no longer as bare as it once was. There’s a little potted seedling that Beth sprouted from some of the extra seeds brought back for the garden that’s starting to go in. She won’t tell him what it is yet, saying he has to deduce whether it’s a flower or vegetable. At least she delivered a pair of books from the old prison library for him to use to figure it out.
“If Judith’s over here on the regular, maybe we should get you a few supplies in here. Changing table, spare clothes, and some toys. That sort of thing.”
The matter-of-fact acceptance of this odd arrangement makes Merle huff. “You act like this is a good thing.”
Ever since the first day he was here, Carol’s been accepting of him in a way he doesn’t deserve. She cares for Daryl, has made him one of hers like they’ve been two of a kind since diapers instead of meeting a year ago in a refugee camp huddling together to stay safe from the walking dead. For reasons Merle will never fully understand, Daryl loves Merle despite his checkered and extensive list of fuck ups. So by extension, Carol’s adopted him, too, it seems. Now she’s smiling that smile she normally saves for his baby brother, that soft and gentle one that makes him understand why Daryl always straightens his shoulders just a bit more. Having someone believe in you is a heady feeling.
“It is a good thing. You and Daryl, you’ve both got a soft spot for kids that could be seen from the moon, even if you prefer to act like a jackass so that no one gets close enough for you to get attached. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to be an asshole to Beth, could you?”
Merle grumbles, quieting when the sound makes Judith stir. “She don’t deserve that from me. Life’s hard enough for her growing up here.”
“Keeping to yourself may seem like the way to stay under the radar here,” Carol says, her smile still sweetly gracious. “But wouldn’t it be better to be part of the community instead? I’ve talked to enough of the Woodbury people to know you were pretty damn popular there. Still are, to be honest. They worry we’ve locked you up because of your close association with the Governor.”
“You’re shitting me.” Merle knew the various civilians respected what he did, but that was when they had the protective veil in front of their eyes that the Governor was a good man. The shit he did at that madman’s bidding ought to earn him a cell over there in solitary, not an open door here among normal folk and freedom to go wherever Beth bullies him into going that day.
“Not one little bit. We’ve all made our mistakes, Merle. You followed the wrong leader, but you kept people safe while you did it. They’ll remember that far longer than his lies at the end.”
“Weren’t all lies, you know.” That conversation with Michonne, where she asked how many men he’d killed before the Governor and how many after? It replays in his nightmares every damn night, making him wake in a cold sweat.
He’d been willing at first to turn her over, to sacrifice the one to save the many, until he realized he couldn’t handle any more blood on his hands. Trust Michonne to have acted both as his conscience and his savior. He would never have survived the ambush he led on the Governor and his men if Michonne hadn’t lured the man away and then returned to find Merle bleeding out afterward.
“I know.” She reaches out and pats him on the shoulder anyway, touching him with the same casual ease that Beth does, as if he’s worthy of their attention. “But the difference between you and him is that you do have a line you won’t cross.”
Merle makes himself meet her gaze evenly. “There is no line if it keeps someone I love safe.”
Changing his mind about Michonne had been easy enough, because there was no direct proof that her sacrifice would save Daryl and the family his brother chose for himself while Merle was missing. Sacrificing himself seemed like a more reliable plan, since he could take the bastard down with him. But if he’d known without a doubt that Michonne’s death would have saved everyone? He knows deep down he would have accepted one more death.
Carol shocks him when her smile only widens. “I know that, Merle. And now I’m pretty sure you love three people, not just one, so I’m just going to encourage that.”
He isn’t sure how to respond to that, so the damned enigma of a woman makes her exit, leaving him with the baby he’d been sure was about to be spirited away to never return to his unmonitored care. She’s right, though. For most of his fifty-three years, his family, the only one he’d die for, was a single person: Daryl.
Now, it does number three, and Merle can’t help but be grateful that Beth wormed her way right in beside his brother and brought Judith along. He suspects if Carol has her way, that number will be four. It’s hard to feel alone with a family like this. It just took him a damned long time to find them.