Hello dear readers. I'm so happy to see so many of you like this little figment of my imagination, so thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you reviewing and following Rebeca and Daryl.

Anyway, I've decided that this story probably won't be very long. Ten chapters tops, possibly less. But I'll make sure they are good ones. I want to finish this before I start writing anything else, because finals are coming and the last week of May will be hell on earth, and that's only a prelude to June and all its horrors, so please, be patient with me.

I own nothing, except Rebeca, the plotbunnies, and possibly a new bikini.

Enjoy.

P.S.: Gosh it's really interesting/frustrating to write Daryl and Merle's accents while cramming for my stick-up-their-ass-propper-grammar-shit English Major exams. Also the amounts of times I've mentioned Merle's knife-hand-thing, only to remember he doesn't have one in this story, is too damn high.

PLAYLIST:

"What Have You Done" - Within Temptation

"Troublemaker" - Olly Murs

"Comfortably Numb" - Pink Floyd

x.X.x

CHAPTER II.

Guns, Crossbows, and Etiquette

"The fuck ya tray'n ta pull, man?!"

Merle was striding towards the doors of the clinic, more dragging than leading his injured brother alongside him, and his lips twitched at Daryl's hiss. "Patience, lil' brother, good things come to those who wait'n shit."

Daryl scowled. "Don't tell me ya got a plan or sumthin'?"

"Don't need no plan, son, 'm getting ya fixed, then I'mma get me a fix'n' split." Merle flashed a lopsided smirk, then pushed the hem of his unbuttoned shirt away to reveal the gun hidden inside his pants. "Anyone get in the way, well lets just say they gonna find themselves in need of medical attention."

"Ya crazy?" Daryl demanded, grimacing as Merle's quick movements jolted his shoulder. "There's kids in there, pregnant women."

"Ya gonna tell me they got baby Jesus in there next?" Merle stopped right in front of the swinging doors to the clinic to appraise his brother. "What's yer problem, lil' brother, 'fraid yer dick'll get hard for once, seein' the ladies? If ya even possess one."

"Shut the hell up." Daryl's eyes darkened menacingly, and he tried to pull away from Merle's support, but it was pointless. He didn't have the strength to fight his brother, even if his fingers were twitching into a fist around the compress on his wound in pure rage. Merle would be loosing teeth over this after Daryl was patched up. If no one got killed before that happened.

"Lemme tell ya sumthin', baby brother," Merle growled, his eyes glinting dangerously, and Daryl could see the effects of Meth in the pupils. His brother was dosed up and twice the asshole he was when he was clean. He was also twice as dangerous. "You'd best start showin' some respect't people tryn'a save yer sorry good for nothin' ass. All this time tryn' to make a man outta ya, and yer still a little bitch."

"I ain't nobody's bitch," Daryl thundered. "Ya want respect? Show yer fuckn' worth it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Daryl knew he had said the wrong thing. He had basically dared his brother to do something dangerous and stupid. Despite those two things being the basis of Merle's every conscious or unconscious action, when Merle did them, he was usually far away from innocent people who could get hurt in the process. Now, Daryl had set him off at a clinic full of women and children. Daryl's stomach dropped and the anger that had previously made him see red was dissipating like air from a burst balloon.

Merle chuckled low in his throat, but it was not a pleasant sound. It was threatening, almost mad, and Merle's eyes flashed towards the doors of the clinic and back. "Ya wanna see respect, Darylina? Here's respect for ya."

With that, Merle's hand flashed to his gun, while his other hand tightened around Daryl's torso. Then, he shoved the swinging doors open, and before Daryl could stop him, he strode into the clinic, weapon in hand.

"Good day, ladies."

Merle's voice rang out, carried off of the empty wally. Every single pair of eyes in the waiting room darted to them. Next came the panicked gasps, then a few screams. A sob. Then a terrible, dragged out silence.

From the corner of his eye Daryl could see several mothers grasp at their children, while others wrapped their hands protectively around their swollen stomachs. He felt sick, and he knew it had nothing to do with the pain and blood-loss he was experiencing.

He had to figure out a way to distract his brother, stop this. Fast. But he had no idea how. Once Merle got going, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Not when he was this high.

A terrified little nurse slowly rose her hands into the air, without having even been asked to do so. She eyed the two men carefully, and Daryl could see exactly what she was seeing. Two dirty, armed rednecks out for blood.

"S-sir," she gasped out breathlessly, and Daryl could see she was trying to sound calm. "Please, if there's a-anything you need- We can-"

"Listen, sugar-tits, me and my brother here," Merle let go of Daryl to get the space to point towards him, making the hunter stumble to regain his balance, "are in need of some taking care of, if ya know what I mean."

Merle had the audacity to wink, and the nurse shuddered visibly.

"Y-yes, o-of course. P-please, if you would put the gun down we'll-"

"Now here's where I thought ya people were smart," Merle exclaimed. "Ya don't tell a man with a gun what he oughtta do."

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continued, the hand holding his gun twitching just to scare the nurse. "You, sweetcheeks, be real good and do ol' Merle a sollid, will ya?"

The nurse paled and Daryl could see a tear roll down her face. He cursed his retard of a brother then. He cursed his injury, his spinning head, his inability to do something other than lean against the counter and catch his breath.

"See that? Ain't it nice when strangers get along?" Merle's tongue swiped over his lower lip in amusement. "Now, sweetheart, there's someone I want ya to fetch for me. Young gal, real pretty, too. Knows her way 'round painkillers and shit. Name's Becky, ring any bells?"

The woman stared motionlessly for a few seconds, her eyes wide and frightened, then she gave a quick, jerky nod.

"See that, lil' brother, we're finally getting' somewhere. And there ya was being' so damn skeptical." The elder Dixon turned to finally address his brother in a much too cheerful way. He walked closer to where Daryl was all but hanging on the counter, his breath coming out in shallow pants, then proceeded to slap him across the back.

Daryl sputtered. The pain was electric, but Merle seemed oblivious to his brother's discomfort. "What's got yer panties in a twist, baby bro?"

A child's sob echoed from the corner of the room, before Merle could continue. It was immediately followed by a quiet ad frightened shushing sound from a woman who was probably their mother.

People were terrified.

Merle was amused.

"Honestly, I have no damn idea what ya good people are so worked up 'bout. Y'all been havin' a bad day or sumthin?" Merle chuckled at his own joke, then turned to the nurse again. "Ya deaf, lady? Ya get me Becky or I'mma start havin' a bad day. And trust me, ya don't want me havin' a bad day."

Eyes narrowed, he jerked his chin towards the empty hallway behind the nurse, and the poor woman stumbled backwards. She slowly inched towards the end of the counter, her eyes darting from Merle's gun to Daryl's form and the bolt lodged inside his shoulder. She then backed up further down the hallway, always eyeing the gun, before finally breaking into a frantic sprint.

Having sent the woman off on her crazy errand, Merle suddenly relaxed and leaned against the counter right next to Daryl with an exaggerated sigh.

Daryl somehow gathered the strength to shoot his brother a look. "Just stop, man. Let's go b'fore someone calls the cops. What the hell ya want with these people?"

Daryl was hurting. Everywhere. His shoulder had started bleeding again, and his vision was swimming. It had been hours since he got shot, and the hike and long drive needed to get to the clinic had not been a fucking picnic. They'd used up all their drinking water to clumsily clean around the wound, adding dehydration to the mix of goddamn warm fuzzies of the day. Now his brother lost his mind. Maybe if Daryl could pick up his crossbow from the ground, he could convince Merle to walk away. He tried to move, but only ended up growling in pain.

"Weren't ya payin' attention, little brother? There's only one person I want somethin' from," Merle drawled. "Name's Becky, and damn can she make a man happy."

Merle laughed while suggestively grabbing at the front of his pants, completely disregarding the gulps and sobs coming from the women in the waiting room. Daryl didn't. "Tiny, lil' thing. Black hair, green eyes, hips ya wanna grab onto. She's a real keeper."

"She's also standing right here."

x.X.x

For a moment or two after she finally reached to the reception Rebeca thought she was hallucinating. There was no way in hell she was really seeing Merle fucking Dixon in her clinic, waving a gun around and threatening her patients. Then again, her brain was not that creative.

She was still trying to catch her, as she took in what was happening in the lobby. There was Merle with the gun, grinning like an idiot, arms wide open like he expected her to jump into his embrace and ride off into the sunset with him. Her patients, scared and crying, huddled together. Some were holding hands, but were otherwise unharmed. Lastly, her eyes stopped on the guy slumping against the reception counter; the guy who was bleeding allover her charts, with a crossbow leaned next to him, and a bolt stuck inside his chest.

For a second, Rebeca was at a loss for words. Then came the anger. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dixon! What the hell is going on here?"

Merle's lips puckered in feigned hurt. He tilted his head backwards, and dropped his arms back to his side. With his eyes exposed to the light, it took Rebeca a single glance to see he was drugged up. Hell, the man was one dose short of interstellar travel. "What? Can't a guy visit?"

Judging by the bleeding guy with the crossbow, Merle was here for more than just catching up on exchanging innuendos. Her eyes flickered from the man's face to his gun.

The safety was still on. The safety was on. And Merle seemed oblivious.

If there was anything she'd picked up from growing up in a family of soldiers, it was how to operate a gun. She had a small advantage. She would make the best of it.

Rebeca took a deep breath, trying to calm her raging nerves. She could do this. Merle was fucked up. If she stalled, got his attention, maybe she could get Irena enough time to call the police. She had dealt with the guy before, but at that time the circumstances had been different. There were no firearms involved, no civilians, and no semi-conscious Robin Hoods with crossbows to worry about.

A drop of perspiration rolled down the back of her neck and disappeared in her thick black hair. Focusing all her attention on Merle's face, she didn't notice Daryl's eyes following hers when she was looking at the gun.

"Most guys call first," she remarked, hoping to get him talking. If she knew one thing about Merle Dixon, it was that he would talk your ear off if you let him. "What's up with William Tell over there?"

"Oh ya mean my baby bro?" Merle asked cheerfully. "Little huntin' accident. Was hopin' ya might wanna check him out? He's been bitchin' 'bout it all day."

"All day?" Rebeca's eyes widened in shock. "You mean to tell me he's been like this all day?"

Jesus Christ, how was the guy even standing?

Merle shrugged. "Give or take."

Rebeca nearly choked on whatever she was trying to say, so she remained silent. No wonder the redneck was waving guns around, Rebeca would have brought a tank if it meant saving her brothers.

Merle's brother. She remembered Dixon mentioning something about having a brother when they met. What was his name? Something starting with D...Dan? Darren? Daryl. That sounded about right.

"Why the hell didn't you just say so?" she demanded. "Hell, Dixon, you barge in here, guns blazing, higher than a damn spaceship?! You want your brother fixed, you could have just damn well said so."

She sucked in a deep breath, her anger turning to despair. "Frightening children, Merle? Really?"

"Why y'all makin' such a fuss 'bout them kids. Ain't done nothin' to 'em," Merle said, but his voice dropped some of its edge. He raised up his gun, but didn't point it at anyone. "Can't ya people handle a little show'n'tell?"

Rebeca heard enough. "Just give it a rest. You want your brother fixed up, get out of my way."

Just as she strode forward, her sights set on Daryl's heaving form, she suddenly felt movement behind her.

She didn't know who it was but she had her suspicions. Unfortunately for them all, Merle had a twenty-twenty vision.

Immediately, the hand that held his gun, the one he had previously relaxed, flexed. Then he pointed it at whoever was standing behind Rebeca.

"Now, darin', what'dya think yer doin' with that phone?" Merle's eyes glinted, then with a motion so fast it was just a blur to Rebeca's eyes, he turned the gun's safety off.

Oh, God, he knew it was on the entire time. They were screwed.

Rebeca dared a quick glance over her shoulder, only to spot Irena's quivering form. Rebeca's heart pounded in her chest. The poor woman had followed her. With her phone. Without calling the police.

"And here I thought we was friends, huh?" Merle commented, taking a threatening step forward.

Rebeca's blood froze. They had to do something, or someone was going to die. And she doubted it would be the Dixon brothers.

Without thinking, she took a step back trying to shield Irena. She held up her hands. "Merle, listen, you have to calm down-"

"Calm down?" Merle's voice was a low, with an air of the disbelieving laughter of a madman. "Don't ya go tellin' me to calm down, girl."

Merle advanced, his gun pointed directly at Rebeca, finger on the trigger. "I'm gonna shoot ya dead, don't ya think I w~"

She waited for the shot, but it never came. Instead, she heard a disturbing noise of metal hitting something soft. That noise being the sound of a collision between crossbow and skull, and then Merle fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

It took Rebeca a second to gather her wits, and another few to find her voice.

"Well," she gasped softly, trying to shake off the shock, "that's one way of handling things."

"Ya okay?"

The voice that asked the question was gruff, hoarse and strained. And it belonged to the crossbow-toting hunter, who, to the best of Rebeca's knowledge, had been leaning immobile against a counter only a second ago.

Rebeca forced herself to look at the younger Dixon, only to be met with a scowl and surprisingly blue eyes. "Ay, lady, ya alright?"

The look in his eyes was a mixture of anger, concern, and pain. He kept staring at her like he was expecting something, and Rebeca realised she never answered him.

"Y-yes," she nodded, her eyes still wide and panicked, but her heartbeat was no longer trying to pound its way through her ribcage. "Thanks."

He nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything.

Rebeca exhaled a tired, wheezing breath. "Daryl I presume?"

x.X.x

Aaaand Daryl saves the day. But is anyone going to fix his damn shoulder already? Will Rebeca get to play doctor in the next chapter? How long will Merle's little nap last? How does Merle know Rebeca? So many questions, stay tuned to find out.

Not much Rebeca/Daryl interaction here, but I wanted it that way, because there will be plenty of that in future chapters.

Let me just say thank you to all of you following and reviewing. I am so happy to see so many of you following only the first chapter. So I decided to get this out sooner, as a thank you to all you awesome readers.

Reviews make my world go round. So... please?

Last but not least... SHOUT-OUTS:

GetTraught –Thank you so much for the review, and sorry I didn't answer your question yet, but it will be revealed very soon. It's a fun(ny) story, actually. At least I hope it is.

Leyshla Gisel – you were pretty close, actually. :D

jouetdedestin – here it is. I hope you like it.

YouKnowWho – thank you. It means a lot to have my friends support my writing. And don't worry you'll be getting your coffee tomorrow.

Guest – your wish is my command.

DarylLover4321 – yes, Merle and his shenanigans. Who knows what he has planned next. Probably a long nap. Hehe.