Warnings: Adult Language, Carol/Other (Temp), Drug Use, Sexual Situations, Violence

This story is heavy. This story is complicated. This story is the product of a very difficult time in my life and this story is the baby born from therapy-writing. Fixing something that is broken is a long and winding road.

Each chapter will eventually have a quote from different Spoken Word poems at the beginning. If you search the source I post on Youtube after them, you will be able to find the source work. Spoken Word holds a special place in my heart, and I encourage anyone to go listen to the people I borrow words from. They are spectacular.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended

You don't even know what she tastes like
and she will flavor your entire night.
Every other girl will be; Not her.
Every song will sound like; Not her.
Dancing will just be moving around other people who are;
Not her.
- Lily Myers, Zach Goldberg, and Evan Okun - "We Made It"

"Come on." Merle barked out as he shoved the pills in between the bottles in the six pack before sliding the pack back inside the grocery bag. He was anxious to go meet their new buyer and as usual when they went to a new client, Daryl was dragging his feet. The boy didn't trust nobody and while Merle respected that on the times that the mistrust had saved them, on days like this it just annoyed the piss out of him.

"I ain't seein' why we both gotta go to this thing." Daryl came into the kitchen, dragging his toe along the edge of the shag carpeting in the living room that was peeling up something fierce. "Its one buyer, shouldn't be nothin' for you to handle all on your own. Then you don't gotta split nothing with me."

"You wanna stay here alone boy?" He arched his eyebrow, seeming amused as he leans forward. "You're the one who found him. You trying to set me up for some kind of sting?" He wasn't seriously asking, Merle knew his little brother better than anyone in the world, he was never anymore lost than the times that Merle found himself in a stint behind bars for any amount of time, he would never turn him in. But some days accusing him of trying was the only way to get a rise out of the younger Dixon boy.

"Just don't like this one. He's... rough." Daryl's eyes flashed a bit and he cleared his throat, looking away. Like Daddy. It was the portion that he had left unsaid, but it didn't need saying.

"You worried he's gonna come after you? Ya just gotta be rougher, Darylenna. Ain't nothin' to it." Merle tried to pretend like they weren't royally screwed up by their past. "He looks like he's gonna get rough, then you get rough first. And harder. Only way it is now. This is our meal ticket."

"I ain't scared of him." Daryl's eyes lifted to Merle's, burning into them with the truth of his words. "He's rough but I could take 'im. M'not scared just..." Daryl gestured outward with his hand, his wrist rotating in a couple circles as he reached, trying to pick the right wording out of the air to get out of this meeting tonight. "Just don't wanna... spend time around the guy, is all."

"You find us another buyer to cover him and we'll talk. Till then, you're gonna find a pair a'balls, glue 'em on and get your ass in the car. I'm damn sick of eatin' those wax noodles all the time, gonna earn us enough to feed us somethin' edible for a couple weeks, at least. Till the huntin' goes good again."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." Daryl grumbled as he tossed on his threadbare coat and shoved his feet inside the hunting boots waiting by the door for him, already feeling the draft sweeping in through the gap in the door as the winter air outside picked up enough to rattle the windows. He felt Merle's hand slap down against his shoulder roughly, giving it a good squeeze, not having to turn to see the shit-eating grin that spread over his brother's face.

"Good boy. 'Sides, gonna be worth it. Ed said his Ol' Lady's gonna have a nice steak dinner waitin' to greet us when we make it over. A warm place to sit an watch the game with a couple bears and a hot steak ain't a bad settin' for the evening now is it?" A chuckle fell off of Merle's lips as he hauled up the bag into his hand and moved to push open the door, leading the way out to Daryl's truck. "You don't even gotta talk ta him, you just be your normal, charming self." Merle laughed at his own joke, shoving his hands in his pockets for warmth. Both men booked it across the yard to the truck.

"His wife's gonna be there?" Daryl finally spoke up again as he fought with the ignition to start up the reluctant engine, punching it several times before it roared to life obediently.

"What? You afraid she'll bite?" Merle smirked, looking over at his brother as he settled back in the passenger seat, lighting up a cigarette and taking a puff.

"Ain't afraid of nothin'." Daryl shot back, looking over at Merle. "You ain't gonna screw us out of this job by screwin' another customer's wife are you?"

"Never can tell with me, can ya baby brother?" Merle was laughing as he shrugged noncommittally. "Ain't gonna promise nothin' till I see the slice." Merle's gaze turned to the road as he lost himself in the enjoyment of his lit cigarette and left Daryl to groan and fall into silent dread over the mess that they were possibly walking into.

A twenty minute drive into town and then over to the far side of it lead them up to Ed Peletier's house and had them standing on the porch, knocking and bouncing around on the balls of their feet as the wind whipped about them, trying to bite at any patches of exposed flesh and chilling them down to the bone, which felt worse from the way that the smoke puffed out of the wood boiler at the back, promising a warmth inside the house - just out of reach as they stood, unanswered and unwelcome into the house.

Merle stepped back as his eyes hit the open door of the wood furnace and he heard the shuffling of feet and the sound of wood being tossed inside to feed the fire. "Ed?" Raising his voice above the howl of the wind, his hands balling into fists and uncurling several times, trying to warm them with movement. "Hey Ed! Asshole, it's cold out here."

The wood furnace door slapped closed and a small figure emerged from behind it. Her pixie-cut hair was a bright auburn color, her nose and cheeks were bright pink from the cold, her boots were worn and her jacket was about five sizes too big for her small frame. She didn't speak as she hurried across the yard, her head dropped against the wind as she rushed to the door, quickly moving to make a wide arc around the Dixon boys to get to the door and push it open. She kept her head bowed a bit as she held it open for them. "Sorry." It was barely a breath as she apologized, a squeak of a noise.

Merle led Daryl inside the door, kicking off his boots and dropping his coat on the floor just inside with a nod at the woman before turning further into the house. "Ed?"

"That bitch finally get the door then?" Ed called from the living room. "Game's started. You assholes are late."

Daryl hesitated, watching the woman step out of her boots and shrug off her coat, hanging it up before picking up Merle's to hang as well. She turned, not looking up to him at all, just standing there waiting. Finally he toed off his boots and took off his jacket, handing it in her direction. He wasn't sure what to say, so he nodded in silence before following in the direction Merle had gone off to.

Merle was already settled down in a second armchair and had a beer in his hand and one out waiting for Daryl. He grinned as Daryl sat down on the couch and shrugged simply. "Okay, I promise now." His nod out towards the kitchen where they saw the silent woman scurrying around to try to put everything together. She wasn't Merle's type.

Merle liked them flirty. Long hair. Big tits. Nice ass. He liked a woman with a fight in her and an easy smile. Merle's type wore short skirts and tall boots with low cut tops. The longer the leg, the better. This woman wasn't Merle's type.

She carried in three beers and froze, seeing the men already all had drinks in hand and she seemed to be at a loss for what to do, shifting from one foot to the other, hesitating before she finally decided that taking them over and laying them on the coffee table wouldn't be a waste, since she could be certain that they would be having more than just the one. Her eyes never lifted higher than their bottles. Mrs. Peletier wasn't Merle's type.

"I got a drink for each hand, but not a damn thing to wash down with them." Ed sneered. "And wash your damn hands, woman. You're covered in soot and we got company."

She didn't speak as she scurried out of the room. The sound of the sink running could be heard from the kitchen and then the clinking of dishes against the counter. Spoons clinking against pans and then plates as food was scraped out. One plate. Two plates. Three plates. Just three. This woman hadn't set aside any for herself. Nothing about her was Merle's type.

Merle and Ed were both shouting at the tv at some call the ref had made when she came back in, carrying all three plates on a serving tray. She almost dropped it at all the noise, but caught herself and closed her eyes with a relieved sigh. She held out Ed's plate first, then Merle's, and finally Daryl's. Daryl was the only who who thanked her and her eyes snapped up to meet his in a bit of surprise, their gazes locking for a moment as it drew on.

"You're welcome. Can I - get you... anything else?" Her voice was almost musical. Soft as it dipped and rose in a quiet, nervous melody. Her eyes held his and his palms went sweaty, a lump in his throat preventing him from doing anything more than shaking his head at her. He watched her nod and then turn to walk away again. He watched her until she disappeared into the hallway.

Shit.

This woman wasn't Merle's type. Daryl didn't have a type but as he stared at the tv, seeing nothing but the memory of her soft eyes boring into his, he knew that if he did - she'd be it. She was it.