#but my latent love for angst has re-emerged with a vengeance

[shimmershae]

Broken Halos, Prologue (a Walking Dead fanfiction).

Because I'm a glutton for punishment, I'm starting yet another story I may never finish.  While this prologue is very Merle-heavy, don't be fooled.  It is definitely going to include a significant amount of Caryl, so all you Caryl-only readers, hang in there. 

 Actually, there'll probably be a little bit of everybody in this fic, with some side pairings and characters that I don't usually devote a lot of time to.  Case in point, this prologue.  Read it just for a little taste.   

 I have many twists and turns planned out for this one.  Whether they ever reach fruition, well, lol.  That actually largely depends on you, dear readers, and whether you're actually interested enough to read more of the strange and crazy workings of Shae's brain. 

 Warnings:  most definitely some adult language, future sexual situations, angst, mentions of abuse, and more.  There'll be fluff interwoven in there, but I don't feel the need to warn you about that, lol. 

 Prologue under the cut. 

 Hope you enjoy. 

Broken Halos

  xxx

    West Georgia Correctional Facility

--Present Day

    Merle had to hand it to her.  The good doctor had herself a real nice poker face.  Blank and wiped clear of any hint of emotion, it usually served her well in this here fine establishment.  Usually.  But today?  Like an animal scenting out the hunter, the nervous twitch of the whites of her eyes betrayed her.  The constant click of the pen in her hand as it hovered above her legal pad was another giveaway.  Seemed he weren’t the only one still affected by yesterday’s cafeteria dust up.  The only difference was she didn’t have the bruised knuckles and row of neat stitches to show for it.  Taking pity on her, he cleared his throat and reached to scratch his chin, the sharp snap of the chains binding his hands to the table pulling him up short and rankling at his nerves.  “C’mon, Doc.  These really necessary?” 

  Over her shoulder, Martinez barked out her answer for her.  “Protocol, Dixon.  You know the drill.” 

  “Yeah.  Yeah,” Merle scowled as he slumped back in his seat.  Ever distrustful of the man, he snapped off a disdainful diatribe that earned him a dangerous look from the correctional officer.  “Know the fuckin’ drill.  Weren’t even my fight.  If you’d been doin’ your damn job, that mean sonuvabitch would’ve never got the jump on the girl.  Hear what I’m sayin’?”  

  “Wanna join Tomas in solitary?  Keep it up,” Martinez warned. 

  Merle’s jaw set, but he decided to pick his battles.  Hell.  He’d been doing it his whole miserable life.  Weren’t no need to stop now.  Still, there was one thing he wanted to know.   Needed to know.  Leaning as far forward as his restraints would allow, he searched the shaken woman’s glassy eyes.  “The kid okay?” 

  “Dr. Cloyd,” Martinez interjected again in a failed attempt to keep her from revealing sensitive information. 

  “He deserves to know.” 

  The guard eventually relented with a nod. 

  “She’s okay.  A little bruised but okay.  You really took the brunt of it.  Thank you.” 

  Merle weren’t no fool.  He’d seen the shy smiles passed back and forth when they thought no one was lookin’, and even though it went against his raisin’, he weren’t about to begrudge them something good in this hellhole because it was already on short supply.  Besides.  He liked the kid.  He couldn’t help his damn self, and the doctor?  Well, she weren’t all bad.  “Good.  That’s good.  See?” he couldn’t resist one last jab at the brooding man keeping watch over their proceedings.  “That didn’t hurt nothing.” 

  “Chambler’s tougher than she looks,” Martinez allowed.  “But we’re not here to talk about her.” 

  “Gonna try to pick my brain again, Doc?” Merle turned his full attention back on the shrink and smirked.  “I done told you.  I’m a mystery to my own damn self.”  The comment didn’t even earn him a smile; he’d expected at least a flicker of one.  Woman just took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed like the weight of the world was on her solid shoulders.  “Somethin’ I’m missin’ here?” 

  “There’s someone else here that’d like to talk to you.” 

  “Thought I weren’t allowed no visitors.  Protocol.”  He very nearly spat the word, his hackles raised, and for good reason.  When he spotted his first glimpse of those neat dreads, his guard went up even further and his hands tightened into fists.  Would have launched himself clear across the room if it weren’t for the hackles holding him at her mercy, and she knew it, too.  He took some satisfaction from the widening of her dark eyes, but it didn’t last long because she was straightening to her full height and striding inside like she owned the place and wasn’t that just rich?  Tearing his gaze from her and landing back on the good doctor, who seemed to have more than the usual trouble meeting his eyes, he growled out a dismissal.  “Ain’t got nothin’ to say to this bitch.” 

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” 

  “This won’t take long,” the prosecutor reassured them all.  “I’ll do all the talking.” 

  “What else you want?  Done took my freedom.”   

  “I only took what was offered, Mr. Dixon, but you weren’t the one doing the offering, were you?  At least not by choice.” 

  “Ain’t got to listen to this shit.”  Jerking again at his chains, Merle snarled at Martinez.  “Goddamn woman’s out of her mind.  Get me out of here.” 

  “You’re not going anywhere.  You and me?  We’re going to have ourselves a little talk.” 

  Hanging his head, Merle grit his teeth.  “I’m telling you.  You know what’s good for you?  Best leave this alone.”  Shifting his eyes momentarily toward Martinez across the room, he met her fierce expression head on and hissed, low and so only she could hear him, “Already got my freedom.  Want my life, too?  Got a fuckin’ kid.” 

  She tilted her head as she considered him, her dark eyes not entirely unkind.  “Martinez has a kid, too.  Don’t you, Martinez?” 

  Martinez’s answer came immediately.  “Two of them, Ma’am.” 

  “You’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you?”  Not even waiting for the man to finish nodding, she straightened again, crossing her arms across her chest.  “There isn’t anything a parent wouldn’t do for their child.” 

  “Well, let’s all sing Kumbaya over a campfire,” Merle drawled.  “Ain’t my lawyer, Lady.  Don’t have to talk to you if I don’t want to, and I don’t.  You hear me?  I don’t want none of this shit.”   

  “I could be,” she offered.  “If you changed sides.  Sang a little different tune?  Martinez over there?  He’s already changed allegiances.” 

  “Fuckin’ turncoat is what he is.  Think I trust him?  Think I trust you?”  His wild gaze flitting around the room, Merle let it land on Dr. Cloyd once again.  His throat tight under the strain of his emotions, he shook his head.  “Only one of you not out for yourselves is her.” 

  She looked up then, those eyes of hers finally meeting his without flinching.  She seemed to be carefully considering her words.   

  “Not you, too." 

  “I think you should hear her out.  It could mean your freedom.  Another chance at a life with your kid.” 

  “You think you know me, rootin’ around in my brain like you like to do.  But you don’t, Darlin’.  You don’t know all the things I’ve done.  I’m not a good man.  Done pissed all my chances away.”  With that, he looked to the lawyer again, waited for her to speak.  She didn’t keep him waiting long. 

  “Way I see, Mr. Dixon.  Everybody out there has that one last chance, and this is yours.” 

  “If I decide to take it?  What then?” 

  She shrugged her strong shoulders, the first hint of a smile brightening her stern, imposing image.  “Easy.  We talk.” 

  Finally resigned to the fact that he was fighting a losing battle, Merle sighed, lowering his head to push his hands through his hair.  “Where do I even fuckin’ start?” 

  “Start at the beginning.  Tell me everything you know about one Mr. Phillip Blake.”