reason without rhyme

Absently, she thinks that the day is beautiful.

Golden orange and green leaves reflect off the glass of the car window and the sky is overcast, but she's being held in this car against her will, heading down the road to what will surely be a slow and tortuous death.

And even as she sits there, she's not going to make it easy for him, of course not.

"You said you killed 16 men since this thing started," she murmurs aloud in the too silent car. "You ever kill anyone before?"

"No," her captor answers quickly, trying to keep things quiet, trying to keep the situation contained.

"And how about before Woodbury?" Before when you were told to kill me, but didn't, she doesn't say. She's not brazen enough to believe that he isn't capable, but that's not the point she's going for. "Before you met him?" She continues with instead.

The man tilts his head to the side, doesn't reply.

"Huh," she hums under her breath. "So he saved your life, cleaned you up, fed you a line of bullshit, why would you kill someone else for him?"

His face contorts as he ponders that – why would you kill someone else for him? – and realizes that he doesn't have an answer, much like anything else he does. The man he is does things by impulse, by instinct, not by moral thought.

"We can go back," she suggests and his lips curl.

"Ain't happenin'," he drawls with a humorless smile.

"Both of us," she continues. "We can just go back."

Go back to what? The barely concealed glares? The bullshit circle of trust? The prison when he's finally free?

He shakes his head, blinking down the road in front of him. "I can't g-go back," he stutters. He can't go back. Not to that. Not to their disappointed faces when they see he's failed. Not to his brother who was always too blind to see that the easiest way wasn't always the best one.

"Don't you understand that?" He asks when she looks at him with those damn soulful eyes of hers, so eager to understand. She could never understand. "I can't go back."

A moment passes. And then she prods: "Why?"

The fuel injector halts when he presses his foot to the brakes, and the car comes to a stop.

Without rhyme, or reason, he presses his forearm to her seat, leaning in close before cutting her free with his bayonet. She looks down at her wrists and she's free, no longer being held by his side, but she's rooted to the spot and makes no move for the door.

She looks at him, and he can't handle it because this is the end of the road for him, and he can't take those reproachful dark eyes that are so eager to understand.

"I don't expect you to understand," he drawls, reaching over and putting her scabbard back in her open hands. "But you will."

He lets go of the scabbard, and she tenses when his grip on her hand tightens, and then loosens.

It's only on her walk back that she realizes that the gesture was meant to be reassuring.

Before she can react, her lips are caught in-between his in a bruising kiss, as if he intended to pour knowledge into her, greying peach fuzz brushing against her chin. He's not holding her there by any means, she could leave and never look back-

But her hand slides up the black fabric of his shirt, palm flush against the open skin of his upper torso, trying to understand.

He can't go back, and now, she can't leave.

What his thin, chapped lips lack, his tongue makes up for as it dances between her lips, searching for entry and she opens herself up to him, as if that'll give her all of the answers.

It doesn't.

She tilts her head, allowing him to delve even further as he explores every curve, every dip of her mouth. He makes good on that promise from earlier, and swipes at her tongue harshly before smoothing his ministrations. Nipping at her full lips before salving it with his tongue. Just when she thinks she can't breathe, he pulls back roughly, looks her in the eye. She shakes her head, dreds swinging with the movement because it's only now that she understands. She finally understands, and doesn't want to.

A woman like her and a man like him don't make any sense. And he can't go back because he's already reached the point of no return.

Merle leaves Michonne by the side of the road, touching her swollen lips as the Oldsmobile drives off.

Maybe she should've stayed.

Mini-fill for the kinkmeme - it really turned out angsty and whatnot though...oh well. Dialogue from the episode was also used. Honestly, I used wanted to add more Merlonne, sue me :)

Reviews are appreciated (even if it is a oneshot).

DAC