A/N – Sorry I haven't done any one-shots for the Unexpected Allies universe before this one. I always planned to but then life got in the way. At any rate, here's one now. If you haven't read Debts & Regrets, you should still be able to read this one-shot and follow it. Hope you like! Please read and review! And for the record, I toyed with making Sophia seventeen instead of sixteen in this story, but in the end decided to go with sixteen. I'm sorry if the age thing is offensive at all. Please know that I do NOT advocate having sex at a young age, it's just sort of where my muses took me for this story.

One-Shot Title: Merle and Sophia and "The Talk"

Merle watched his niece/pseudo-daughter as she moved gracefully through the woods in front of him. She was tall and lanky as a sixteen year old, her blonde hair cascading down to the middle of her back. She glanced back at him then, flashed him a grin that could have melted butter just as easily as it melted his heart.

"You're dawdling, Merle, keep up, would ya?," she teased.

"Ain't dawdlin', 'Phia, jus' makin' sure not to leave yer ass behind," he grumbled right back at her, narrowing his glance in mock anger. He couldn't remember the last time they'd been angry with each other. He wasn't about to change that now, or at least he hoped not to change it now. He quickened his pace then, all but surpassing her in just two steps and Sophia giggled as his hand reached out to her shoulder, shoving her back playfully as he surged ahead. "See, I'm winnin', keep ya ass up lil' girl," he muttered teasingly and listened to the sound of her footsteps crunch in the fallen leaves as she quickened her own pace to keep up.

It wasn't long before they reached the stream that would be the focal point of the day's activities. Fishing, that's why he'd asked Sophia to come out today with him. It really wasn't why he'd wanted her to come, but it had been what he'd asked after. He'd had the conversation with Carol about it just two days past.

"I'm sorry Merle, I just can't do it. I should be better prepared, she's sixteen now, I've known this was coming but… oh I don't know, I just… ugh… there's just so much going on and all… and I just… ugh…," Carol moaned softly under her breath as the words failed her, and then she looked back up at Merle, an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm sorry," she repeated, frowning and bouncing the baby boy that clung to her hip and pouted at Merle as if the kid had been trained to do so. Fuckin' nephews, Merle had thought to himself then.

Merle stuck his hand out at the baby, "don't ya be lookin' like tha', ya silly shi- uh - bug." He'd stopped himself before calling his new nephew a silly shit. He was a silly shit, but Merle figured the comment would have earned him a slap from Daryl's now wife and he frankly wasn't much in the mood. He shook his head at Carol.

"Well I don't wanna fu- fudgin' do it!," he'd snapped before pausing and then saying, "make fuc- er- Darylina do it. He's the dad 'ere, ain't he?"

Carol gave Merle an amused look. "He's the one suggested that you do it actually."

Merle's mouth had been left hanging open only a handful of times over the past few years that they'd all spent in the Alexandria safe zone – and here it happened again, jaw hanging down like he planned to catch flies, staring at Carol in shock. He'd huffed then, a clear concede even though he didn't want to actually say he'd do it, and turned away muttering obscenities to himself as he left the room.

It took him an hour after that to ask Sophia if she could go fishing with him in a couple of days. He'd said a couple of days because he'd figured he'd need the time to think about what to say.

"It's not good fishing weather today," Sophia remarked, giving Merle a glance right before she cast her line out into the water again.

Merle grunted and Sophia frowned.

"Merle?," she said, "why'd you really want to come out here today?" She knew it was a ruse, the whole fishing thing. Just an excuse to get her alone for something that clearly he, her mom, and Daryl all had been plotting. She'd figured it out the night before when she'd walked in on them talking in hushed tones, a clear argument, Merle muttering that he "fuckin' didn' fuckin' wanna… shit talk… stupid fucker". She didn't exactly know what it was about, but she could venture a guess. Most of the time when Merle referred to someone as stupid fucker, he was referring to Carl in some kind of context that involved Sophia.

"This have to do with me letting Carl put his hand down my pants last week?," she said casually as Merle took a sip from the water bottle he was carrying.

He sputtered, the water shooting out of his mouth as he coughed. "Fuck, 'Phia!," he muttered then turning away from her, his head shaking of its own accord in exasperation or anger, she couldn't tell which. He kept his back to her. "Fuckin shitty hell, girl, fuckin shitty hell."

He cleared his throat and Sophia watched his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he put his one hand on his hip, his stump on the other. He cleared his throat again. She imagined his face was probably beet red as it was any other time they'd talked (or rather he'd scolded) about her habit of kissing and occasionally groping – over the clothes of course - Carl in public places. "Keep it ta yerselves, peoples be livin' 'ere!", he'd always say, or some variation that usually included the words "Ain't gonn' tell ya again, jus' gonna git the hose."

"I'm sixteen now, Merle," Sophia said then, breaking the silence, her voice just a hair more obstinate than she'd originally intended, "I'm going to have sex one of these days, ya know." It wasn't a question, but a statement. She expected him to sputter again, to cough, to grunt, to cuss, to acknowledge the declaration in some way, but he didn't. His whole body stilled, his head snapping up from where it had been hanging down somewhat, and he just stood there like a statue, elbows bent, keeping his back to her.

They stood there like that for a moment, her clutching the fishing pole in her trembling hands staring at his back, willing him to say something, and then Merle walked away out into the woods leaving her standing there watching him go.

Well that went well, Sophia thought to herself.

I'm gonna 'ave sex one-a-these days. The words – her words, although with his own spin on them – replayed in his mind as he leaned his forehead against a tree in the woods not far from the stream where he'd left Sophia. He rocked back on his heel slightly, removing his forehead from the hard and rough wood before rocking forward again and letting his forehead smack into wood again, not too hard, but not too gently either. His head was spinning.

My girl, my 'Phia… just up and says she's gonna do fuckin' what? Wha?! Fuckin motherfuckin piece-a-shit Carl, I'm-a fuckin' bury that kid in the fuckin' backyard, he jus' better fuckin' be ready for when I git back.

Merle let the anger roil through him as he repeatedly banged his forehead into the tree, letting the words repeat, letting the homicidal thoughts rage on before the saner thoughts finally filtered in.

Cain't fuckin' kill the fuckin' shit… 'is ma sure wouldn' like it.

"Fuckin' Lori," he muttered to himself then, "fuckin' women."

Fuckin' men and our need ta git laid. It wasn't Carl he thought of at that moment, but himself and the fledgling relationship that he and Lori were muddling their way through.

He rocked back on his heel again, putting some distance between his now bruising forehead and the hard tree trunk. He smiled suddenly, almost spitefully as the thought occurred to him.

I'm-a gonna fuckin' tell 'is mother… see how far the little fucker gits then. Ain't no s-e-x havin' gonna be happ'nin' round 'ere, least not for tha' stupid fucker.

"Merle," he heard then. He hadn't realized she was even there, that she'd even approached, so quiet were Sophia's footsteps. He'd trained her well. She was behind him and her voice was shaky, worried.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, and he interrupted before she could say more.

"Good," he barked, "it's settled then, ain't happ'nin'." He turned to face her, his heart momentarily breaking over how crestfallen she looked.

She shook her head then, "no, no, that's not what I meant, Merle." That tone was coming back, the tone that told him that he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"Wha'd ya mean then… spit it out," he snapped, his eyes flashing. This time it was Sophia who put her hands on her hips, squaring off as she looked at him.

"You're as much a father to me as Daryl is, Merle… you know that. I love you. I'm only half as good a person as I am because of you… I know that much. You've taught me well, but I can figure some stuff out on my own. I want… no, I need to figure some stuff out on my own. You need to trust me. I can still be your little girl and Carl's…" she cleared her throat awkwardly, "sexually-active girlfriend… the two aren't mutually exclusive."

Merle blinked at her. "Wait!? Wha'?!," he roared suddenly. He turned, paced a few steps away and then back a couple of times, and then turned to face her again. "Wait 'til yer eighteen," he mumbled then, his eyes meeting hers, "jus' fuckin' wait 'til then."

The snap of a twig behind him grabbed both of their attention and as Merle turned to look, Sophia's knife whizzed past his head and implanted into the head of an approaching walker in a matter of seconds. The walker fell to the ground with a soft thud and Merle looked back at Sophia.

She gave him a pointed look, "and what if I don't make it to eighteen?"

There wasn't an argument strong enough for that logic in his mind. Merle knew the world was as rough as it had ever been, the walkers were still out there even though the group lived in Alexandria now – they still weren't safe. There was no such thing as certainty about anything – where they lived, how much food they had, when the next herd would rip through leaving them with smaller numbers and a fence to repair. There was no such thing as certainty that any of them would live another year and a half before Sophia reached eighteen.

Merle made a small noise with the back of his throat, he frowned, his eyes softened as he looked at the girl who was still his little girl and somehow not his little girl at the same time. Sixteen and so strong, so stubborn. Sixteen going on something like thirty. Made so much older by the fucked up world they lived in, but still young enough to be stupid.

He shook his head but this time it was almost lazily, almost the baffled shaking of a head that signaled reluctant acceptance.

"Ya tell yer ma ya ain't gonna do it," he said then, his eyebrow raised, "ya fuckin' lie to yer sweet ass ma if ya know what's good fer ya." He paused before adding, "and ya 'elp out wit' yer brother more too, fuck, yer ma and Daryl must be fuckin' ass-over-elbow with shit if they thought I was gonna be able ta have this talk wit' ya. Ass over mutherfuckin elbow."

The smile Sophia gave him took away some of his lingering gruffness over the whole matter. She nodded as she said, "of course, yea, of course… can we go catch some fish now?"

Merle grunted his agreement as he stepped forward. She turned as he reached her, and he slung his arm – the one that ended in a stump – across her shoulder as they walked back out of the woods to the stream.