The Walking Dead - Dixon Bloodfall (A Walking Dead ff)

Chapter 12 - Immediate Problems

It’s a soft voice, indescribably quiet, and she can’t make out a single world, but it’s speaking above her. Her vision is gone, her senses are fleeting, and if Quinn had to liken this state to something, it’s like being in space. Quiet, floating around stars, almost dreamlike.

Then it’s a searing pain in her stomach and she’s ripped back to reality with a scream, that after a few moments of consciousness, she realizes is her own. As eyes blink away tears, she makes out several figures above her, namely Merle, Rick, and an unidentified older man with wispy white hair. He resembled, upon further fleeting thought as the pain came in overwhelming bursts, a skinny Santa Claus. As each sense returns to her, along with a shot of pain, she realizes she's laying flat on top of a metal table, with her hand tightly clasped around Merle’s. The older gentleman has his hands out of sight, but she knows exactly where they are; removing a bullet from her stomach. It’s an odd, terrifying sensation, someone sticking their hands and inside her wound, inside her.

"Why - why am I awake?" She croaks, whining from the pain shortly after. Merle offers a reassuring squeeze, but it does little to sooth her. That was a stupid question, she silently scolded herself.

“Nothin’ to put ‘ya asleep with.” The old man says, hands still fiddling inside her wound. She didn’t dare peek down at it, and instead, chose to trust his judgement. “I’m sorry, I know how much this hurts.”

“Oh do you?” She hisses through clenched teeth, her tone laced with anger and sarcasm. A quiet laugh is returned, and the old man nods his head downwards. Confused, she looks, and her eyes trail down her crutch. He was missing a foot. “Oh.”

“Th’ hell were you doin’ out there?” Merle demands from her side, though his voice is much more subdued than usual. She turns to him and before she could answer, winces from the pain, and clenches up.

“Merle, I understand you two got a history, but I’m gonna haft’a ask you not t’ bother her durin’ this.” He warns, eyes gazing from Merle’s, to Quinn’s. A silent understanding was exchanged between Quinn and him and she’d have to thank the older man some other time. A slightly emasculated Merle was pulled away by his younger, and the two locked eyes for a moment. She mouthed “Don’t worry.” and then turned away, now staring at the ceiling as the man continued the impromptu operation.

When the brothers are far from Quinn’s side, in the main room with the others, Daryl eyes his older. “Bro, I ain’t never seen you act like this. ‘Specially ‘round some lil’ girl.” He huffs, accusingly so, waving an arm at Merle. His other is supporting his backpack, that slung around his shoulder, tugging on the strap so it remained elevated. Merle, slightly caught off guard by his brother’s sudden statement, faces him. “If I wasn’t stupid, I’d say you actually care ‘bout ‘er.”

“I do.” He muses. “She’s m - I take care of ‘er.” He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose, unaccustomed to expressing positive emotion. “Been me an’ her since I lost m’ hand.”

“Why th’ hell you actin’ all soft all of a sudden? Merle I know don’t give two shits about nobody, kid ‘er no kid.”

“Why you makin’ a big deal outta this? You got ‘yer pal Rick, you don’t need me no more. I kin’ see that clear s’ day. You got a problem that m’ lookin’ after someone that ain’t you?”

A few moments of tense quiet go by. “Man, it ain’t even like that.” His eyes flicker with a familiar pain, the hurt only Merle could cause. “I didn’t replace you, an’ I don’t got a problem. I’m jus’ worried ‘bout you.”

“Worried? What are ‘ya talkin’ about?”

“I don’t want you t’ get hurt.”

Merle scoffs. “I know you ain’t suggestin’ she’s gonna hurt me ‘er somethin’. I mean, she’s strong, but she ain’t -”

“Y’know what I mean, Merle. I don’t want you gettin’ hurt when you lose her.” This quiets Merle, who’s face turns solumn as he understands what his younger brother means. “We don’t have any medicine. Nothin’, an’ she ain’t lookin’ too good.”

“She’ll be fine. Quinn is tough, y-you should’a seen what kinda state she was in when I picked her up.” He laughs, though it’s nervous and weak.

“You weren’t here when Rick’s kid got hurt.” Daryl retorted. It was clear by the look on his face he didn’t like what he was saying, or the reaction it got from Merle, but he pressed on nonetheless. “We had the medicine then, lost somebody gettin’ it too, an’ he still barely pulled through.” Timidly, he approaches Merle, trying to comfort him with simply his proximity.

“Daryl.” Rick steps into the vicinity, instantly overcome with the sensation that he was intruding on a personal moment. Merle turns away and utters a soft growl. “Merle, m’ talkin’ to you too. She’s not lookin’ good, she needs to rest. We just have a little medicine, and we’re runnin’ out of supplies as it is. I’m askin’ the both of you to go out and scout for things we need.”

“S’ no problem.” Daryl confirms.

“Glenn doesn’t want t’ go, and I’m not gonna force him. So it’s just gonna be you two.” Rick continues, noticing Merle’s disdain towards this notion. “No reason to worry while you’re gone. We’ll make sure she’s as comfortable as possible. Nothin’s gonna happen to her.”

“I don’t trust you.” He mumbles.

“The feelin’s mutual, Dixon. You two are leavin’ in the mornin’.” As Rick turns to leave, Merle whirls around and scoffs.

“Th’ hell with that, m’ leavin’ now.” Merle goes to push the man aside but Daryl once again restrains him, and he is given a scolding look by two different pairs of eyes.

“You got heat stroke again Merle? Shane’s prolly’ still out there, with some more of Governor’s lackies. Ain’t none of us goin’ out there now.”

No doubt this argument would’ve escalated, as all of Merle’s arguments did, had it not been for Quinn being led past them. Merle’s eyes instantly softened when presented with her injured visage, and instead of continuing his bickering with the others, questions Hershel about her state.

“She’s pullin’ through remarkably, but she’s going to need medical supplies. We used just about everythin’ for Lori.”

“Give me some credit.” She’s shivering, clammy and extremely pale, and Merle tenses up, despite the facade of a smile she puts up. Hershel continues leading her to the back cell. As she turns the door and walks inside of the cell, Merle calls out that they’ll talk later, and she replies with a flat ‘sure’.