"Everything seems very quiet and still out there," Tyreese told the group as he and Carol returned from guard duty early that evening. "I'm thinking maybe we can all sit down together for dinner for maybe an hour or two without someone on watch, as long as we keep fairly quiet."

"So I guess that means we can't shoot off fireworks," Carl said with a grin.

"And I guess you're just yanking our chain," Carol replied, swatting playfully at the top of Carl's head. He ducked and laughed.

"If you're done being obnoxious," Carol told the boy, "Do you think you could come and knock on my door when dinner is ready? I wouldn't mind catching a quick nap right about now."

"You and me both," Tyreese said. "You are hereby designated as our Human Alarm Clock, little man," Tyreese told Carl.

"On the job," Carl replied with a mock salute.

‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ ‡ # ‡ ‡ ‡

Allison was carefully monitoring the cut-up goose parts – wings, legs, thighs, breasts, etc. – on one of the grills while Michonne was tending to the whole roasted goose on another grill. "Goose sure takes a lot longer to cook than chicken," she thought to herself as she waited for a certain level of "pink" in the flesh before turning the pieces.

"Gracie," a gruff voice from behind addressed her. She knew without turning around that it was Merle.

"Yeah?" she replied without much interest.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Yeah," she repeated while sprinkling a bit of Nature's Seasonings on the meat as it cooked.

"I'm serious," Merle said. "I need to ask you about…something serious."

Allison turned to face the man and was surprised by the earnest look on his face. "What's up? Is there something wrong?" She was immediately alarmed. "Walkers…?"

"No, no," he shook his head. "It's about… I just need your opinion about something personal. Very personal."

"Go ahead," Allison said, suddenly intrigued by Merle's intensity.

"Can we….?" He inclined with his head that he wanted to step away to a more private area. Allison followed him and then waited for him to continue.

"I don't know if you are aware that I have, well, feelings for Beth and have had for some time…"

Allison rolled her eyes and replied, "Well, duh, I'm not deaf and blind."

"OK, maybe I haven't been subtle," he actually seemed uncomfortable and looked down at his feet.

"It's not just you," Allison felt compelled to relieve his embarrassment. "Beth hasn't exactly gone out of her way to disguise her attraction to you."

"OK, well, here's the thing…" In all his life Merle Dixon had always been in complete control of himself and every situation; self-assured, not afraid of anyone or anything. And now for maybe the second time in his life (counting his discussion with Maggie and Glenn as the first time) he felt vulnerable, almost naked. "I love Beth and I want to marry her. You know, make it official." He saw Allison about to speak and interrupted her, "We haven't done anything other than kiss. I wouldn't take advantage or, you know, do anything more with her."

"OK, I get it," Allison said. "But why tell me all this? I'm not her father nor even her sister…"

"I'm telling you this because Daryl gives me grief every time I happen to glance at Beth. He's always telling me that I'm too old, I'm too this or that…" He paused and took a breath. "I mean, I'm gonna ask Beth anyway, but I dunno…is there somehow you can smooth this over with Daryl?"

"Daryl has told me some about his childhood, but not everything," Allison spoke slowly. "I've seen the scars on his back…and I remember you calling him names before – 'Darylina' and such. Always belittling him. I can only imagine what went on when you two were growing up…"

Merle's face contorted at the memories she'd triggered…memories he'd tried to bury mentally… and his eyes teared up. "You don't know, you don't understand… You had to have been there. I was only trying to protect him from our Ol' Man. He'd beat the tar out of me all the time, call me a 'pussy' and what all… I thought if I toughened Daryl up when he was a kid maybe Pop wouldn't whup on him with the belt like he did to me." He swiped his cheek with his hand to brush away an angry tear. "Truth is, I was the one who pussied out; I joined the Marines to get the hell out of that house." He turned his back to her for a moment while he tried to compose himself. When he faced her again he admitted, "I was a bastard the way I treated Daryl, I know that. But you have to understand, that's all I knew from when I was a little kid. I mean, you're a doctor, you must understand how a kid only knows one thing – what he gets in his house from his parents when he's growing up?"

"Yes," Allison said softly, "I'm familiar with that type of 'conditioning', as it's called. So many times in the ER I saw battered women who accepted that behavior because that's all they knew….their father smacked their mother around…"

"I never knew what 'family' meant until I was at the prison…even Woodbury was not the big ol' family the Governor kept telling us that it was. It was always a competition to, well, please him…Goddamn, now that I say it out loud I realize how fucked up that was…." He stopped and waited for Allison to react to his use of the "F" bomb, but she remained silent and just looked at him, her huge blue eyes boring into his almost sympathetically. "That so-called Woodbury family was just as dysfunctional," he said that last word with a bit of sarcasm, as if he suddenly felt embarrassed and wanted to distract the focus from his uncharacteristic soul-baring, "as anything that went on when Daryl and I were growing up."

"The Governor beat up on people? Whipped them?" Allison was surprised.

"No, but just as bad….certain folks got more privileges if they, well, for example killed for him. Walkers or whatever. He ordered a hit, you did it so that you could keep your cushy room and access to his liquor supply… And the women…" He shook his head at the memory. His father was many things, but he'd never cheated on his mother, and he certainly never had young women compete for his favors. "He was almost like a sultan, and certain women at Woodbury knew if they could share his bed they'd get extra-special treatment."

"Eew," Allison involuntarily muttered.

"Things at the prison were so different," Merle started pacing a bit. "It was like culture shock. Sheriff Friendly – I mean Rick – treated everyone equally. eHHHe didn't expect any of the females to sleep with him, he did as much of the grunt work as anyone when it came to fence duty or working the garden…" He stopped pacing and looked at Allison. "Hell, when Daryl first found me and talked about the prison I accused him of 'drinking the Kool-Aid', like he'd been brainwashed, you know what I mean?"

"I get the Jim Jones reference, and it was actually Flavor-Aid," Allison replied.

"Jesus Christ," Merle shouted, "can you for once in your life not be 'Miss Correction'?!"

"Sorry," Allison murmured.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Merle continued, "it was different at the prison. Everyone worked together, and it took me a while to realize that it wasn't some big scam, that there were really folks who were decent and honest and who actually all joined together just to keep the place safe and the people fed."

"You don't have to convince me," Allison said. "I remember all the work you did with Mr. J to wire the prison for electricity and how you taught me so many survival tips while we were at that fancy house…" She giggled. "That place where you wore those plaid seersucker golf pants you found in the closet…" She cleared her throat and became more serious. "I also remember how when Beth got shot you were always hovering nearby and then went scavenging for stuff like the tuning forks to test her hearing and the Vaseline for her scars… I know that you love Beth, and I know that she loves you. What else do you want from me?" She shrugged in confusion.

"I would like to ask Daryl to be my Best Man, but I don't want him to do it with an attitude, if you get what I mean. I'm hoping you can get him to realize that I feel for Beth the way he feels for you."

"I'll talk to him," Allison said.

"The other thing I wanted to get your opinion on," Merle added, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a ring box. He handed it to Allison for her to open. "I got this ring to give to Beth – see, it has green stones, just like her last name."

"Emeralds," Allison supplied. "It's beautiful."

"Well, what do you think is the best time to 'pop the question'? I've seen on TV where folks have done it on the Jumbotron at ball games…"

"Which isn't an option right now," Allison interrupted.

"I know," Merle said. "I was just wondering – if it was you, would you want to be proposed to at dinner tonight in front of everyone, or would you like it better if it you were alone with no audience?"