NO TIME TO DIE

002! peaches

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CHAPTER TWO
peaches
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As it turns out, Merle was right when he said 'nothing can kill Merle but Merle', however a rusty nail very nearly proved him wrong.

Blake wasn't surprised when the wound became infected, she expected it to happen. The man refused to clean it properly, or change the bandages regularly. In his words 'a silly fuckin' nail can't cause tha' much damage', but two weeks later when his entire hand had taken an alarming shade of blue and grey, his statement didn't hold that much power.

If it wasn't for the bag Blake had, the very one she stole the day Atlanta fell, he probably would have died. The infection had made him sick, dangerously so, he could barely move, and spent most of his time laying in a feverish daze. The pills that Blake had held onto saved his life, though there was nothing that could be done for his hand.

So now the redneck was an appendage down, with one of Blake knives serving as a replacement for the missing limb.

She would never admit it, but she thought it looked badass.

I mean, knives for hands, that shit was so cool.

And although the event very nearly killed him, in a strange way, it made the two closer. Blake was forced to take care of him, and Merle was forced to rely on someone other than himself for the first time in his life. Neither would admit it to each other, but they both enjoyed the company. Blake admired how Merle was unapologetically himself, even though that was a raging asshole half the time, but he never pretended to be someone he wasn't. And Merle couldn't help but be reminded of his brother whenever he looked at the young girl. He saw a lot of Daryl in Blake, they both had big hearts, but covered it up with harsh insults. They both hid years of pain with carefully constructed walls.

Merle would never admit these things though, he wasn't one for sentiment either. But he had failed, quite miserably, with his baby brother, Blake was almost like a second chance for him. To be the brother he always wanted to be, but was too scared.

However, this didn't mean they always got on. No, half the time they were actively trying to kill each other. Their personalities clashed more often than not, the two too stubborn for their own good.

And that what was happening now.

A bead of sweat trickled down Blake's temple, her breaths short and fast as she tried to steady the rapid beating of her heart to no avail. Her eyes darted to the man infront of her, lowering them immediately when she was faced with nothing but pure fury. She could feel his eyes piercing through her skin, causing a trail of goosebumps to prick down her spine.

She looked around, searching for a route to escape, but it was hopeless. She didn't know to to cover her tracks, didn't know how to run through the thick woods without making a sound. But even if she did, he would find her in an instant, sniff her out like some kind of redneck bloodhound and drag her back to camp by the ear.

Merle paced in front of her, walking back and forth with large strides as he tried and failed to find the right words to express the anger bubbling in his gut. Every so often he would stop, taking in a breath, prepared to set free the plethora of curses and admonishments on the tip of his tongue, but a word never left his curled lips, too furious to put his anger into words. So he would snap his mouth shut with a growl, returning to his pacing with even more anger in his steps.