"So I noticed something in the store," Glenn was saying to Daryl when Sinclaire came out of the bar.
"Yeah?" Daryl asked as he started the fire again. "M'I the only one who can keep this shit lit?"
"You're a poet. You don't know it," Sinclaire said.
Glenn laughed; Daryl shook his head with a half grin and walked down to the river for a bucket of water.
"So what'd you notice?" she asked.
"How slow the ones outside were moving. I mean, I know they've never been fast...but those practically stood there and let us kill them. When you compare that to the ones inside..."
"I see what you mean. You think there's a correlation between temperature and bodily function."
"Exactly! I mean, we have it. And they're human. At least they were. Why wouldn't it be the same?"
"Think it'd be worse," Daryl said, pouring the bucket of water into the pot over the fire. "I'm wonderin' about their blood."
"What about their blood?" Sinclaire asked.
"Whether it still..." Daryl gestured, as if he could pull the correct word from the air. "Circulates," he finished triumphantly. "If it didn't they'd be like snakes."
"Snakes circulate blood," Glenn pointed out.
"I know that," Daryl said impatiently. "I mean how snakes and other cold blooded stuff move slower in the winter. People ain't as bad 'cause we're warm blooded...but what if they ain't no more?"
"What are ya'll yakkin' about?" Merle asked.
"Cold blooded-ness," Sinclaire said. "What do you think? Did the Walkers outside seem slower than the ones in the store?"
Merle rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then grunted in the affirmative. "Yeah. That's good thinkin' Yank."
"Hey!" Glenn protested.
"I'm not going to take your credit," Sinclaire reassured him. "Everyone will have a chance to impress Merle."
"I'm not trying to impress Merle," Glenn said frostily. "This is for science."
"Science!" Sinclaire said obligingly.
"Ya think their blood circulates?" Daryl asked Merle.
"Who cares?" Merle asked practically.
"If it doesn't they'd freeze," Sinclaire pointed out.
"Ain't gonna get freezin' cold around here," Merle said. "But we could find out about the blood. Whatcha say Yank? Wanna go in the mornin'?"
"You want to go zombie hunting with me?" Sinclaire placed both hands over her heart. "Merle Dixon I'd be honored."
Merle swung his arm over her shoulders and gave her a grin. "Just like old times. Dixon and Lewis against the world."
"Hell yeah." Sinclaire fist bumped him and then shrugged out from under his arm. "Should we plan to get an early start?"
"If ya'll wanna be back by dinner then ya better," Daryl said as he picked up the turkey and dunked it headfirst into the boiling water.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Makes it easier to pluck," Merle said as if it should have been obvious.
"If ya know why don't ya ever do it?" Daryl demanded.
"That's what we got ya around for," Merle explained.
"Wet feathers stink," Sinclaire said in surprise.
Daryl nodded and sat down on one of the logs by the fire. He grabbed a handful of feathers and yanked. Everyone watched until he turned slowly and gave them all an annoyed look.
"Ya'll wanna do this?" he asked.
"No," Glenn answered.
"Then beat it. Don't need a damn audience."
"Daryl's got a thing about people standin' behind him while he's workin'," Merle said.
"If ya know then why the fuck are ya doin' it?" Daryl asked.
"You don't know Merle very well do you?" Sinclaire asked with a laugh.
Daryl started to stand up.
"No, no! I'm going," she said as she made a hasty retreat. She took her book to the box truck and climbed in.
"Whatcha readin'?" Merle asked.
"Iron House."
"Any good?"
"No, it sucks. That's why I'm halfway through it."
"Don't get smart."
"But I don't know how to get dumb."
"Read it to me."
"From the middle?"
"Ain't as bright as ya think are ya?"
Sinclaire sighed and flipped to the beginning. When it got too dark to read she looked over and saw that Daryl was just finishing with the turkey. She gave him a thumbs up. He nodded and took the turkey inside for Carol to brine. She turned to Merle and saw that he was asleep. On top of her sleeping bag. Well that was lovely.
She stretched out on Daryl's sleeping bag and sighed. She'd get up and wake Merle up in a second. It was just so peaceful with the fire crackling and the story in her head.
Daryl came back from the bar and found Merle where Sinclaire should have been and Sinclaire where he should have been. Tiff had been in Merle's room. Carrie and Glenn were in his room.
Daryl sighed. At least he knew Merle wasn't gonna be getting laid tonight either. With a shrug he crawled into the back of the truck between his brother and Sinclaire and slid the truck door closed.
"Goodnight," he muttered.
Sinclaire woke up feeling very warm and comfortable. She stretched and her hand banged into someone's arm over her side. She went tense and forced herself to take a deep breath. She recognized the arm. There was a tattoo on it. It was Daryl. She could feel his chest against her back. She let the breath out. This had never happened before. She had nothing to compare it to. It was...a little bit nice. And claustrophobic. But mostly...okay.
His arm tightened around her and she heard him mutter low in his throat. His beard was prickly against her hair. That was a new sensation too. Mike had been clean shaven. That was the first time she'd thought about him in a long time. Suddenly the claustrophobia rushed back. She pushed Daryl's arm off and sat up. He rubbed his face and sat up too.
"Sorry."
"No, it's okay. I was...you're really warm."
"Thanks. I guess."
"Why are ya'll talkin'?" Merle grumbled. "It's too damn early for talkin'."
"We've got that zombie hunt," Sinclaire pointed out. "I was going to wake you up anyway."
Merle nodded and sat up. He was in the middle of a yawn when he caught the look from his little brother. It plainly said, "Get the fuck out of this truck." Merle grinned.
"Gotta pee," he announced.
"I can't tell you how much it means to me that you share these details," Sinclaire said.
Merle exited the vehicle and closed the door again. In Sinclaire's face.
"Well." she said, sitting back down. "It wasn't like I was going to watch. Not that I think Merle would mind that."
"Yeah."
Daryl kissed her. It wasn't the most intimate kiss in the world. Neither one of them even parted their lips. She was too shocked to close her eyes so she could see that his were scrunched shut. She could also feel that he was braced to get hit.
Even if that was what she'd been inclined to do she wouldn't have had time. He pulled back almost as quickly as he'd leaned in and looked at her. Much to her disbelief she found herself blushing. She raised her hands to her cheeks and rubbed her face emphatically. He rubbed his chin self consciously.
"Is it the beard?" he asked. "I mean is it scratchy? Or did ya just not wanna do that? Did I-"
"It's not the beard," she cut in. He looked hurt. "I mean it's not that I didn't want...I mean I wasn't thinking about it...but I don't...think...that I mind. But I'm not sure. I have to...I need to think."
"Okay. Well I'll..." his voice trailed off as she yanked open the truck door and bolted down to the river. "Be here."
A note: Sinclaire/Merle fans be not alarmed. That is all I will say. Oh and this: I can't thank my review-ers enough. It's the reviews that inspire me to write and I love them (and you guys) so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you continue to do so!