Triggerfinger ➳ Daryl Dixon

t w e n t y t h r e e

Presley didn't know how long they remained like that.

Minutes, hours. 

At last, Merle spoke once more, "Please take me to him."

This was not the Merle she recalled. Old Merle never would have tried to comfort anybody, whether or not they were in a state of despair. His voice was still rough as a gravel road, but there was a hint of desperation in his tone that led her to believe that maybe he did actually care. 

The love between the Dixon brothers was a rough love, not the sort of love you generally saw between brothers. 

Who was she to keep them apart?

If he decided to go crazy and unleash anger on Alexandria, it wouldn't be her problem; it would be Daryl's. Of course, Daryl's problems tended to end up as her problems, but they couldn't be her problems if she did decide to leave with John. 

Daryl would need somebody if she decided to leave. Maybe Merle would be good for him. 

"Why should I?" She said, looking up at him.

"Ye shouldn't." He shrugged. "But I'll follow ye anyways."

"Not if I kill you." 

"You won't do that, sweetheart." He chuckled. "I see right through that blaze in yer eyes."

She stood, pushing herself away from him. She holstered the gun, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Just don't try anything, you hear?" 

"Wouldn't dream of it, sugar."

"And quit with the pet names." She snapped as she started walking. 

"Why?" He chuckled. "Only Daryl allowed to call you them?" He moved surprisingly swiftly for as big as he was. Then again, so did Daryl. Both men were thick with muscle, but they'd survived in the woods far before the outbreak.

"He doesn't call me names." 

Merle laughed. "That was always kinda my thing, eh? Baby brother actually took the time to learn the names of his women. I forgot, so I called them other things."

"How nice." 

"But I remember ye, Presley. Tell me, do you have anything shorter I could call ye?" 

"No."

"How 'bout Elvis?"

She stopped to glare at him, contemplating whether or not it was worth it to push his sorry ass down the hill. With a roll of her eyes she kept on walking. 

"Suit yerself. I'll just keep on calling you sweetheart."

"I'll sic my dog on you." 

"Nah." Merle laughed heartily. "Ye won't." 

"Do you ever shut up? You're going to attract every roamer around here and I'm not saving your ass."

"You save my ass? Ah hell to the no. You're the damsel here, sugar." 

"I hate to break it to you, asshole, but I am no damsel. I can very well take care of myself while whooping your ass. So call me damsel once more, sugar." 

"Hot damn, Presley, ye been eatin' some jalapenos?" He laughed. "You're spicy as hell." 

"You're not funny." 

"I think I'm hilarious."

"Which is why you're alone."

That shut him up real quick. 

She continued walking swiftly, humming quietly once the gates of Alexandria came into view. Ten years ago, refuge hadn't looked like a bunch of cold rolled steel walls and a person standing guard, but the world was always evolving. 

Upon sighting her, the gates rolled open, welcoming her with a wide view of the shiny new houses. "Who's this?" The man nodded toward Merle, who simply gazed around in amazement at the little civilization they had built.

"He's with me." 

"He needs to talk to Deanna and turn in all his weapons."

He dropped his gun into the hands of the man, continuing to walk while looking around. Presley simply shrugged and followed after him, directing him to the house Daryl resided in with a single motion of her hand. He started forward excitedly.

Carol was the first to emerge from the house. She went rigid at the sight of Merle approaching, and even the sight of Presley didn't seem to calm her. "Rick!" Carol called, turning sharply toward the house. Presley caught Merle by the elbow.

"I would wait if I were you." 

Rick came out onto the porch, his eyes narrowed as he looked between Presley and Merle. His hand twitched, as if searching for his revolver for comfort. Presley watched calmly. 

"Why did you bring him here?" Rick's voice was low. 

"Because Daryl would bring him back, anyways." 

"You had no right--."

"You have no right to keep them apart." She fired back swiftly. "Nor do I."

"You of all people should understand why I don't want him here." Rick snarled. Unflinching, Presley raised her chin.

"Yes, Rick, I understand why you do not want him here. I don't want to see his face again, frankly." She shrugged. "But shit happens. Either it comes out your mouth or your ass." 

And then Daryl appeared. First his eyes landed on Presley. The Georgia blues that she was so familiar with softened considerably, as if relieved she was there. And then he looked at Merle. 

The two brothers walked toward each other slowly. 

Daryl's expression was hard; unreadable.

Merle was grinning ear to ear.

"Baby broth--."

"Get out." 

Daryl's words startled all of them; even Presley recoiled. She looked calmly at her Daryl, who loved his brother dearly. She knew he had once wanted to be reunited with him, so this reaction was unexpected.

Apparently Merle wasn't expecting that, either, "But-."

"Get out!" Daryl yelled, his booming voice echoing and bouncing off the walls. Presley moved forward slowly, reaching for his arm to calm him. She stopped before she touched him, not quite able to bring herself to break the gap. "I don't want ye here." 

Merle shook his head in confusion. "I..." He looked helplessly at Presley. All she could do was shrug and glance away. "Daryl, please." 

"You let the Governor do unspeakable things to her." Presley recoiled. "Ye didn't do nothin' to stop 'im. If ye cared about me, ye would have stopped 'im."

"I thought we were over this--."

"Just leave." Daryl marched back up the porch steps, bristling. 

plz don't yell at me too much guiz

im not even going to ask yall to vote bc i dont deserve your love