Yeahhh, this is exactly what I need - to post another WIP!
Sigh. Sorry.

So this basically reads like a soap because without walkers and cannibals and death and destruction, I don't have much to write about except work and life stuff and relationships, so will make up for the lack of action by writing deadly levels of fluff and chemistry!

Warning you now, you may become ill from fluff-poisoning.

The title of this fic comes from Lewis Capaldi's song Fade, which I highly recommend listening to in midnight darkness when you can't sleep, headphones in, volume full. The angsty vibe was just something that connected to this story for me.

This is AU - no ZA or maybe pre ZA (still deciding) and it's set in the mid/late 2000's-ish I guess? Mobile phones are primarily to text/call (as in no internet access, terrifying I know!), and they don't use social media. Set in an imagined small city in the south (places are just made up, or loosely based on places I know). Daryl's about 30, lives with Merle (who is not as polarising as he is on the show, I've written him much nicer). Mandrea is a forefront relationship, Richonne background.

For those who have read any of my fic Property of Daryl Dixon, Tahlia is the same OC with the same-ish backstory just changed a couple of details to fit this story, but this won't be as in depth as Property and will move faster (but the fics aren't related, you don't need to have read it). The formula for Daryl and Tahlia is the same though (couldn't imagine it any other way for them) as in, there's attempted dislike to inevitable like.

Triggers - fic heavily based around booze culture/drinking/bars etc, and small references to drug use. Also there's referenced sibling death and suicide (I'll warn for this at start of chapter).

And of course, I own nothing to do with The Walking Dead.

Cross-posted on AO3 (under stormmminateacup) where most chapters will have an image at the start that inspired me/fits the chapter (basically just an excuse to post pics of Norman Reedus).

Chapter 1 - Silver and Chip

Spinning his lighter over calloused fingertips, Daryl leaned on the bar and cast an impatient glance down the far end to where Tara – who had promised she'd be 'right back with some clean glasses' – was fawning over the sleeve tattoo of some chick who was happily holding her arm out for inspection. It's not like it was busy for a Wednesday, just the regular old soaks and the usual clientele of local blue-collar workers, many of whom had been coming to Fox's for years – including most of the guys from the mechanics garage two streets over where Daryl worked. He'd been introduced to this place on his first day there five years ago and had felt at home here ever since.

Fox's Tavern was pretty divey by any standards – a variety of half-illuminated neon signs flickered around the otherwise dimly lit space; the smell of stale beer and deep frier oil forever hung in the air; and the eclectic interior wearily boasted Formica tables, sticky floors and dingy little corners for conducting all manner of things; yet somehow there was a cozy and comforting vibe about the place all the same.

"Tara!" Daryl hollered. "Gimme the damn glasses and I'll pour the pints myself!"

Tara extended a middle finger in his direction, but soon ambled back his way, a dopey smile on her face.

"Sorry." she said, completely unapologetically. "She was cute though, right?"

Daryl scoffed at that. "Ya treat this place like your personal datin' service."

"That's rich coming from you." retorted Tara teasingly as she moved further down towards the beer taps. "You've picked up more girls from here than I have."

"Maybe, but I ain't the one meant to be on the clock." countered Daryl and before Tara could get another dig in, the door suddenly banged open.

Even if the woman who burst in hadn't nearly shoved the thing off its hinges while talking too damn loud into the phone pressed against her ear, Daryl would still have noticed her - she looked out of place in a joint like this. So much so, that he would have put money on her having wandered in here by mistake if it weren't for the fact that she was striding towards the bar in a way that suggested her top priority was getting alcohol into her system as fast as possible.

Casually dressed in boots, jeans and a sleeveless top, the woman had an upmarket air about her which was only accentuated by her self-assured poise, and sure, she was undeniably pretty, but she wasn't his type (did he even have a type?) – although he knew that those big boobs and pouty lips would be right up Merle's alley.

And Tara's too, apparently, given the spark of interest on her face.

"Business is good tonight." Tara smirked with a flick of her brows and Daryl just rolled his eyes.

Sliding onto the barstool right next to where he was standing – reflexively making Daryl take a large step away – the woman flipped her white-blonde wavy hair over one shoulder and continued her conversation at a volume that set Daryl's teeth on edge.

"...in front of his friends! I'm so fucking sick of his shit – I'm done... yes! I mean it, this time I'm done for good! I fucking walked out on him and straight into the bar across the road, and now I'm going to drink myself into fucking oblivion and forget all about that arrogant mother -… no, I know that... yeah... yes... I KNOW... I'm still drinking myself into... fuck OFF, Tahly, you're so... no, I don't... ok... yes please... um, let me..." Suddenly she turned to Daryl, her brows raised in question. "Hey, what's this place called?"

Fixing her with a disparaging stare that lasted a moment longer than it probably should have, Daryl slowly raised a finger and pointed to the flickering neon sign above the bar. "Fox's."

"Oh, right, of course." She flashed him a big smile, then turned her attention back to her phone. "Fox's... yup... just across the road from there... ok, thank you, see you soon."

The blonde puffed out her cheeks in a long exhale. "Ok!" she announced to no one in particular. "I definitely need a drink."

"Well, you're in the right place." declared Tara cheerily. "What can I get you?"

"A double of something strong, please. And a shot of tequila."

"Sounds like someone's had a rough day." sympathized Tara, pushing three beers in Daryl's direction. "Why don't you tell me all about it?"

"Don't waste a minute, do ya?" muttered Daryl as Tara bit back a smile and waved him away, keeping her attention focused on the blonde.

More than happy to put distance between himself and whatever sob story that woman was about to pour out, Daryl headed back to the pool table where his brother Merle and their friend Shadow were still immersed in a very serious game.

"Beers." he announced flatly as he banged the glasses onto a leaner.

Merle stood up from his shot and tutted at Daryl. "That all ya brought back, baby brother?"

"What ya wanted, ain't it?"

"And what 'bout that piece of ass at the bar?" said Merle, running his tongue over his top teeth.

"What 'bout her?"

"She all by herself?"

Daryl shrugged. "Dunno. Think she's waitin' for someone. Don't fuckin' bother. Y'ain't go no chance with her."

A greasy grin spread across Merle's face. "That right? Let me be the judge of that."

"Leave her alone, man." sighed Daryl, but Merle just handed him the pool cue.

"Take over. And you're fuckin' welcome, coz I'm winnin'."

And then, beer in hand, he sauntered over to the bar.

"No fuckin' chance." repeated Daryl, shaking his head.

From across the table, Shadow ran a hand through his mop of chocolate-coloured curls and laughed. "Well, it wouldn't be Merle if he didn't try."

Concentrating as he took his shot – which ended up ricocheting off the edge of the corner pocket – Daryl swore colourfully then turned around to find that by some damned miracle, Merle had persuaded the blonde to join him back at their bar leaner and was just pulling out a stool for her as he sent a shit-eating grin Daryl's way.

"Now, this here's Andrea – she's an HR manager for one of them big, fancy companies in town, she lives down by Jellicoe Park, and tonight she's just waitin' for a couple of her friends." Merle looked incredibly pleased with himself for learning and remembering those snippets of information (although Daryl thought it sounded more like an introduction on one of those cheesy daytime game shows), then added, "Thought maybe we could keep her company 'til they get here."

Andrea smiled and flicked her fingers in a wave which Daryl didn't bother to respond to because he figured Shadow's overly cheerful, "Hello Andrea!" was enough for both of them.

Turning his attention back to the game, Daryl swore again as Shadow potted his last ball then the black in quick succession.

"Damn! And I was leadin' before and all! How'd ya manage that?"

"Just luck, I guess." shrugged Shadow, even though they both knew that it was nothing of the sort – Shadow rarely lost a game of pool. "Wanna go again?"

"Rack 'em up. Gonna whip your ass this time."

Shadow nodded graciously. "No doubt."

Nearing the end of the second game, Daryl noticed that his brother was still deep in conversation with Andrea, and he paused for a moment to observe them curiously. It wasn't like Merle to do the whole 'getting to know you' thing when it was just pussy he was after – either he was getting it or he wasn't, and if it was the latter then he didn't bother wasting time on small talk. But he just seemed… different with this girl – his usual bluster somewhat tempered as he spoke in low tones, his expression open, his laugh genuine. Maybe he was just getting desperate in his old age and was trying a change of tack.

"Your shot, little Dixon." Shadow's voice drew him back to the game. "Got faith in you, brother. I reckon this game could still be yours."

"Shuddup, Shads." replied Daryl good-naturedly as he gazed at the spread on the table. No fucking way was he winning this. He managed to sink two before it was Shadow's turn again, and as expected, he cleaned up.

"Nice." Daryl clapped Shadow on the shoulder as they both took a long drink from their near-empty glasses. "Ain't playin' ya 'gain, though. Taken all the losin' I can for one night."

Shadow shook his head with a laugh. "I spend way too much time in bars."

Then suddenly Andrea jumped to her feet and waved at two women who had just walked in the door. "Oh, there they are!"

"That's your friends?" asked Merle with a low whistle. "Hope they didn't go to the trouble of dressin' up just for the likes of us."

"They came straight from work." Andrea informed him before heading over to greet them.

"Hell do they work?" muttered Merle, raising his brows at Daryl. "Wall Street?"

If Daryl had thought Andrea looked out of place here, then these two women were from a different world entirely. Both looked corporate, confident, composed and a very far cry from anyone that Daryl had ever associated with before. The taller woman had flawless dark, dewy skin; long dreadlocks that were in striking contrast to her tailored pantsuit; and a demeanor that suggested she didn't take shit from anyone. As they got closer, Daryl got a better look at the second woman and his stomach gave a heavy thud.

Shit. Maybe he did have a type after all.

Half a head shorter that the first, she had dark brown wavy locks that fell halfway down her back, big, striking green eyes that seemed to be glittering with a smile regardless of what her full, red lips were doing, and her figure-hugging burgundy dress accentuated a body that could quite easily keep Daryl up at night. As she looked around, she caught Daryl's eye for a sparking second before he quickly dropped his gaze.

"Goin' for a smoke." he muttered, grabbing his cigarettes from the table and slipping out to the courtyard.

Bemused, Shadow watched him go, then shrugged and headed to the leaner, taking a seat next to Merle who was grinning widely at the fact that the hot girl he had just met had hot friends too.

Andrea directed her friends to sit at the table and introduced the dreadlocked woman as Michonne and the brunette as Tahlia, then gestured to the burly man next to her.

"This is Merle. He was keeping me company until you two arrived."

"How kind of you." remarked Michonne evenly, arching a brow.

"What can I say?" Merle replied cheerfully. "I'm a good guy."

Just in case Michonne was about to debate that, Andrea hurriedly jumped in, pointing at Shadow. "And this is… shit, I don't know your name!"

"That's Shadow." Merle supplied, then added, "Dodgy as sin."

"I'm not. Dodgy, I mean. Despite the face." said Shadow with a snaggle-toothed smile, indicating the cross tattooed over the side of his right cheek bone, the three small triangles under his left eye and the vines that began below his left ear and spread and curled all the way down his neck, disappearing under his shirt.

Tahlia thought his tattoos did little to combat the fact that he gave off a friendly teddy-bear vibe with his kind, coffee eyes, wild, curly hair and warm, lilting drawl and she smiled right back at him because she couldn't help it. "Where'd the name Shadow come from?"

Merle snorted. "The fact that he's a fuckin' stalker pervert who's always hidin' in the shadows!"

"That's not true!" exclaimed Shadow, smacking Merle in the arm, then turned back to the women, a mildly panicked look in his eye as he repeated earnestly, "That's not true. Long time ago I used to race motorbikes. Right at the beginning I was at the top of the board for a while and they said the others were always chasing my shadow. So, 'Shadow' just kind of stuck."

"Yeah right, stalker."

Shadow flicked at Merle again, then shook his head. "Pay no mind to this guy. He's just sore because even though I'm long retired from racing, I still always beat him."

"Like fuck ya do." grumbled Merle, finishing his beer. "Woulda had ya last time if ya hadn't run me off the road."

"That was all you."

"You ride motorbikes too?" Andrea asked Merle, who gave an evasive shrug.

"Yeah, just… just currently in between bikes at the moment."

Shadow leaned forward conspiratorially. "That means he wrote off his last one and can't afford another yet."

"Not my fault." maintained Merle, then grinned at the women. "Anyway, how's about I get you ladies a drink?"

Tahlia and Michonne looked at Andrea, who gave a hopeful little shrug. "Wanna stick around for a little longer?"

Tahlia raised her hands. "Michonne's our driver tonight so it's up to her."

"Um… sure." Michonne said with a wary glance at Merle. "We can stay for a bit." Then she turned to Andrea. "But we've all got work tomorrow so no one is getting drunk into oblivion, ok?"

"Ok." agreed Andrea happily. "Anyway, I don't really feel like I need to do that anymore."

Michonne glanced at Merle again, then back to Andrea. "So, what went down with D.J. anyway?"

Downing the rest of her drink in one go, Andrea shook her head and shrugged, unconcerned about discussing her man-drama in front of these new men. "Same old shit. We'd been on a break for a couple of weeks and we were just slowly trying being back together again – we were going to a mutual friend's birthday dinner tonight," She directed that information at Merle and Shadow, then carried on, "I went to his place beforehand, he'd already been drinking and he just kept going on at me about stupid shit but I tried not to bite because of the dinner. Anyway, we got there and he still wouldn't let anything go and was just a fucking asshole to me in front of everyone and I'd... I'd just had enough. Walked out before the food even arrived. I'm done with him." She looked up at Merle. "I am, this time. Really."

Merle just spread his hands and smiled. Rebound, revenge, whatever – he was fine with being used for any of those. The sex was usually a lot better in those cases anyway.

Michonne, however, raised her eyebrows dubiously because she'd heard that many times before, but resisted saying as much and instead settled for firmly stating, "He is a fucking asshole."

"Ok! I'll go to the bar!" Tahlia declared before the conversation went too far down that road, and she held up a hand when Merle made to stand. "Sit. I've got it. What are you having?"

Merle nodded in thanks. "Beer for me."

Shadow echoed him, then Tahlia asked, "And what about the other guy that was here? Or has he left?"

"He's out havin' a smoke." Merle gave a lazy shrug. "So, fuck 'im. He can get his own."

Tahlia laughed at Merle's uncharitable attitude. "I'll just get him a beer too."

By the time Tahlia was wobbling her way back across the spongy carpet in her stilettos with a tray of precariously balanced drinks in hand and her lower lip caught between her teeth as she focused intently on not dropping the lot, Daryl had arrived back inside and sat hunched at one end of the leaner, acutely aware that the only spare seat at the table was right there on the other side of the corner from him.

Setting the tray down with more force than she intended, Tahlia swore under her breath as a little of the drinks sloshed onto the tray, then she looked up, both pleased and surprised.

"That could have gone a lot worse."

Smiling up at the man whose name she didn't yet know and who, she suddenly realized now that she was up close, had intense ice blue eyes and hard angular features and bulging arm muscles and a dark magnetism rolling off him (thank God she hadn't noticed any of this while she was carrying the tray because that would certainly have resulted in floor-drinks) - she managed to maintain her composure as she pushed a pint into his hand.

"Hi! I'm Tahlia. Beer ok?"

Her arm brushed his, skin on skin, and Daryl tensed instantly. It felt like he'd been scalded – but in a good way – and before he could get his head around what that was about, he was distracted by the fact that this girl was standing so close he could see the flecks of gold buried in the green of her eyes and the slight indentation on her full lower lip that had him wanting to press his thumb just there; so close he could smell the light floral tones of her perfume and the summery coconut of her shampoo and below that, something so primal and her it made his chest ache; so close that he wanted to draw an invisible boundary around himself and push her out of it.

Then she tilted her head to the side slightly and quirked a brow and he realized that he hadn't yet said a word. And before he could, his goddamned big-mouthed brother decided to speak up for him.

"C'mon now, baby brother, don't forget your manners in front of the ladies." Then Merle looked at Tahlia apologetically. "Don't mind Darlina here, he weren't raised that good."

"Darlina?" repeated Andrea, wondering if she'd misheard.

"It's Daryl." hissed the man in question, throwing a death-glare Merle's way. Then he sent a terse nod of thanks in Tahlia's direction in lieu of the word itself because in that moment he wasn't sure that he'd actually be able to speak directly to her, which was fucking ridiculous because she was just a girl and (aside from his first awkward fumblings in his early teens) he'd never been particularly nervous around girls, especially not ones who were simply occupying the same general air space as him. Sure, this one was holy-fuckin'-hell-pretty, but he was no stranger to pretty girls, no stranger to attraction and pants-tightening lust. But, this wasn't that - or at least it wasn't just that. And he couldn't figure out what the fuck this was and why it was making him feel all cotton-mouthed and oversized and awkward – but whatever it was, it was very unwelcome. So, he ignored her smile and nod-in-return and concentrated very intently on the slowly evaporating foam topping his beer as she handed out the rest of the drinks.

While she was doing that, Shadow reached for her credit card that was still lying on the tray in a little puddle of beer.

"Clean this for you." he said, picking it up and drying it off with some napkins as Tahlia placed the tray on the empty table behind them and took a seat opposite him.

"Here you go…" Shadow held the card up to the light so he could read the embossed lettering, "…Tahlia Wilkins." Then, still holding the card between them, he peered around it to stare at her face. "Where have I heard that name before?"

Tahlia hitched a shoulder and gave him an impish look. "Ever go down to Wild West? I'm pretty famous on the karaoke circuit."

"No." Shadow replied seriously, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Wilkins… Wilkins…" Then he snapped his long fingers. "Like the finance guy!"

Taking a gulp of his beer, Merle elbowed Shadow. "You don't know no fuckin' finance guy."

"Well, not like, personally, but I read about this one in the Financial Times."

"And you don't fuckin' read the Financial Times!"

"Sometimes I do!" insisted Shadow. "Read it last month when me and Tanya were at that coffee place by her gallery. There was an article about him. Oliver Wilkins. Real successful investment banking tycoon. Built this big empire and now fancies himself as a bit of a philanthropist - always handing out bags of money to charities, sponsoring new builds and shit like that. You girls know who I'm talking about, right?"

Andrea and Michonne both glanced at Tahlia, who just shrugged like she didn't have a clue.

Shadow looked down at Tahlia's card again, then back up to her, studying her face. "Shit! You're his kid, aren't ya? Yeah, that's right, there was a photo from the opening of the new wing at the children's hospital, and you were in it! I remember your name from the caption."

Tahlia's brow furrowed in disbelief. She knew the photo he was talking about – unremarkable as it was - and she was part of a group of seven in it. "You remember my name from the caption of a group photo in a publication you read a month ago…?"

"Goddamn, Shads!" Merle admonished him. "'Member what I told ya? It's creepy as hell when ya say shit like that to people who don't know ya. And it sure don't help your claim that y'ain't a stalker." Then Merle addressed Tahlia. "This asshole's got one of them photographic memory things. Remembers near everythin' he reads. Shame he's all doped off his head mosta the time otherwise he coulda actually made somethin' of himself. Fuckin' stupidest smart guy I ever met, huh Shads?"

Somehow Merle made all that sound like a compliment, and Shadow just gave a cheery shrug of his skinny shoulders as he handed Tahlia's card back. "Yeah. That's me. I'm right though, aren't I? Damn, your daddy's one powerful guy. You in banking too?"

"Oh, no… I'm a lawyer, for all my sins. And so is Michonne." Tahlia elbowed her friend, hoping to shift the focus onto anything that didn't involve her father. "We work together."

"Well, you're dressed pretty sharp so you girls must work at one of the big firms, right?"

"Smith Gleeson Greene." supplied Michonne, not so subtly checking her watch.

"Whoa, yeah, I heard of them. I've been following that big murder case in the news."

"Tahly's on that case." said Andrea proudly.

Shadow's eyes went wide. "You are?! So, that neighbor's gotta be lying, right?"

"I really can't say much about it." replied Tahlia apologetically.

Merle gave a low whistle. "Well, shit! Ain't you somethin'! Big, important lawyer, –"

"I'm not-"

"-billionaire's daughter, -"

"God! He's not a –"

"- bet ya live in one of them mansions with swimming pools and tennis courts and all that, too."

Tahlia chuckled at Merle's over-the-top appraisal of her – there was no scorn in his tone, he sounded genuinely enthused and impressed.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but I live in a two-bedroom apartment with Andrea. Not a tennis court in sight." Then she laughed again at Merle's crestfallen look and threw a hand up. "Ok, sure. My family home's a total castle. Ballroom, movie theatre, helipad, courts and pools all over the place – including one filled with gold that you can dive right into à la Scrooge McDuck."

It was clear she was being facetious and the others laughed, but Daryl gave a derisive snort, his eyes dark glints of contempt as Tahlia turned to him with a smile and a brow arched in question.

"Bet that ain't far from the truth. And bet daddy wouldn't be too happy if he knew his little girl was on the wrong side of town slummin' it with the likes of us now, would he?"

Daryl felt just as surprised as everyone looked when he spoke – even more so to hear the vitriol in his tone (and the thickness of his Southern accent made him cringe inwardly). It was just all that stuff about her big-shot father and her high-flying job had made his teeth clench because of course, of course the only person in his 30 goddamned years who made his palms clammy and his heart knock all offbeat turned out to be some privileged, untouchable rich girl who, if it weren't for her stupid friend trying to make herself feel better about her stupid boyfriend drama by flirting with his stupid brother, wouldn't be caught dead in a dive bar like this with rednecks like them, and suddenly the space between them felt more like a chasm and he'd never be able to get to the same side as her, so yeah, maybe he felt like slinging some shit to drag her down a little.

Tahlia really didn't help matters when, instead of looking affronted like he'd expected, she huffed out a little laugh and shrugged, saying, "It's all good, he's got my security team on standby outside."

Holding her gaze, Daryl's expression remained stony. "Your driver out there too?" he asked sardonically. "And where's all your maids?"

"Oh, I gave them the night off." replied Tahlia flippantly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "It's tough though – I had to get dressed all by myself. Usually they tie my laces for me and everything, so I had no choice but to go with these tonight…" she grinned and kicked up a stiletto clad foot. "Only shoe I could figure out how to put on."

"Tahly…" Andrea warned lightly from the other end of the table, all too familiar with her friend's penchant for winding people up.

Her ribbing only rankled Daryl more and he sneered. "Think you're funny, huh? Joke all ya want, but it still sounds to me like you were born with a damn silver spoon in your mouth."

Tahlia smiled sweetly at him. "And it sounds to me like you've got a big chip on your shoulder. Am I right, Chip?"

"Fuck off, Silver."

"Hey now!" Merle pointed a finger at Daryl. "S'enough."

Daryl ducked his head and stared sullenly into his beer.

"Oh, just a bit of teasing, isn't it, Chip?" said Tahlia brightly, biting back a smile at the daggered look Daryl shot at her. "Down your drinks. I'll line up another round as a peace offering."

Merle shook his head. "Naw, naw, I'll get it."

"Don't be silly. I'm getting way too old to swim in my massive pool of gold – I've got to spend it somehow!" She grinned and flicked Daryl playfully on the arm as she stood up, making him flinch and scowl at the table, and Andrea let out a little groan, dropping her head into her hands.

Merle, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious and chortled heartily, declaring, "I like that one!" as Tahlia sashayed off to the bar.

One drink later, the three women were piling into Michonne's car. One drink which, considering the earlier tension, had gone surprisingly well (likely because Daryl had gone out for another smoke and hadn't come back in). After a short, slightly rocky period where Michonne made it wordlessly clear that she did not appreciate Merle's bawdy sense of humor (Tahlia thought it was fabulous), the five of them soon fell into easy conversation helped along by the fact that both Merle and Shadow were naturally chatty and Shadow turned out to be a mine of random but fascinating facts and stories. Even Michonne defrosted after they discovered a shared interest in ancient Egypt and started swapping information on Tutankhamun. Merle and Andrea kept dropping off into their own conversations, ribbing and grinning at one another, and at the end when she coyly refused to give him her phone number, he had a decent crack at persuading her to come back on Friday, because, he promised, Friday nights at Fox's were an entirely different beast to the rest of the week – live music, decent crowds, woodfired pizzas, happy hour 'til nine.

"You're not seriously thinking about coming back here on Friday, are you?" asked Michonne, starting the engine.

"Why not?" Andrea said, a little defensively, from the backseat. "They were fun to talk to. They even had you laughing by the end."

"They were ok for a one-off conversation. But they were pretty… rough."

"So what?" sniffed Andrea. "They seemed nice enough."

"Nice? That guy got all pissy with Tahls and told her to fuck off!"

"That was the best bit!" declared Tahlia with a grin. "Who doesn't love an opportunity to flaunt their obscene wealth?"

Andrea leaned forward and flicked her on the shoulder. "Why did you go on like that? You didn't have to keep pushing his buttons with all that braggy shit about being rich."

"He's the one who made the assumptions based on a couple of bits of secondhand information." stated Tahlia, turning in her seat to face her. "If he's going to get all sore about my dad, then let him. He can think what he likes. Not like we're going to be hanging out again, anyway."

"Yes, you are!" Andrea flicked her again. "On Friday!"

Tahlia's brows shot up. "So you are serious about coming back here!"

"Yes! I think I want to see Merle again."

Michonne glanced at Andrea in the rearview mirror. "And what about D.J.?"

"I told you, we're done."

"No offense," Michonne said gently, "But you've been done so many times. This is what you guys do. You'll be back together by the weekend."

"No. I really mean it this time." insisted Andrea firmly. "Tonight I finally realized that I don't even respect him anymore. And he sure as shit doesn't respect me. And chatting to Merle was like a breath of fresh air, you know? Sure, he's brash and loud and rough, but he was funny and actually interested in me – and before you say he's only interested in me for one thing, well, maybe that's what I want. I just want to have a little fun, move on from D.J."

"Good for you, honey." said Tahlia supportively. "You bang that D.J. out of your head."

"Tahly!" laughed Andrea, swiping at her again.

Not sharing in their mirth, Michonne was silent for a moment as she stared out at the road ahead.

Andrea and D.J. had been in their tumultuous relationship for nearly a year now, and although they'd been more off than on, when they were on, it had never been healthy. Not that she thought a guy like Merle was particularly good for anyone's health either, but if that's what it took for Andrea to sever ties with D.J. for good, then who was she to dissuade her?

"Well, I think if you're serious about ending things with D.J. then you should talk to him tomorrow and be clear that it's really over this time."

"I will. I definitely will." Andrea agreed. "So… Friday? Please! I need moral support."

"Sorry," Michonne shook her head. "Rick and I have dinner with his parents on Friday."

"Ugh! You and your healthy, stable relationship with an amazing, well-adjusted guy. Well, that just leaves you, Tahls, and since you don't have either of those things, you've got no excuse."

Tahlia poked her tongue out, but she couldn't argue with Andrea's logic. "Great. So I have to sit there with guy-who-hates-me while you chat up his brother. Maybe I'll see how quickly I can get him to tell me to fuck off again."

"Promise me you'll be nice!"

Turning in her seat, Tahlia gave Andrea a faux-haughty look. "I am always nice."

Sending a withering one back, Andrea raised a brow and said, "At least promise me you won't call him Chip again."