All Dixons Are The Same

"Why were you so quiet in there?"

"Jus' tryin'a be helpful. Shit."

Beth kept her eyes on the road as she navigated the streets of Atlanta to find her way to the highway and the exit that would take her home. The sun was quickly setting and she turned her headlights on, the radio playing classic country at a low volume while Merle smoked cigarettes out the open passenger window. She watched him from the corner of her eye but kept the majority of her focus on getting back to Senoia as quickly as possible.

"What, now you gonna bitch that I don't talk enough? Fuckin' females..."

"Shut up," she snapped. "You know what I mean. You were oddly quiet - and you looked pretty uncomfortable. What was yer deal?"

Merle shrugged, turning his head and gazing out at the passing sights. "I'ono. Jus' don't like chicks like Lady Jadis. Can't trust 'em."

Beth rolled her eyes and sighed. "Right… Whatever you say."

Then he quickly changed the subject. "She really got you with that God bullshit, huh?"

"No." She furrowed her brow and shot him a glance to find him looking at her with a smug smirk. "I mean - I took everything she said with a grain of salt. But she wasn't entirely off-base…"

"You kiddin' me?" He cackled and shook his head. "She read you like a goddamn book, blondie. Saw that li'l cross 'round yer neck an' asked all the right questions. Played you like a fuckin' fiddle, I'll tell ya what."

Beth worried her lower lip and suppressed any retorts that might've leaked out. Merle made… a good point. As sad as it was to admit that. She'd forgotten that she was proudly displaying her faith at all times. And what better detail for some money hungry psychic to latch onto than a young girl's belief system? Play a little bit on her fear of God, her confusion in the current situation, her obvious self-doubt and slightly misplaced determination...

Shit, Beth thought. Whatever. At least it was only forty bucks.

She swallowed hard and cranked up the volume on the radio until it was filling the cab and her head. Merle didn't seem to mind. He began to happily sing along as he continued chain-smoking.

They were on the highway before he spoke again. She turned down the radio - but only because he was asking her a question in a normal manner rather than his usual mocking tone.

"So where we headin'? Back to the farm?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready to be home."

He groaned. "Didn't ya hear the boy? That shit about time bein' a weapon? We gotta get to Daryl 'fore it's too late."

Beth frowned and glanced over at Merle. "Before it's too late for what? Half of what that kid said didn't even make sense and, might I remind you, we still don't know for sure that he was talkin' about your brother."

He sighed loudly and stomped a foot on the floorboard, anger quickly rising and reddening his face. "Bullshit! Don't be playin' dumb with me, princess. You know what he meant an' you know it's gotta be Daryl! Shit, you was willin' ta go pay some fake psychic cunt ta tell you what I been tellin' you the whole time - what the hell else d'you need? We coulda spent that time actually talkin' to my goddamn brother."

She pursed her lips and stared straight ahead, hands clutching the steering wheel tightly. She didn't have any more excuses. If she dragged Merle back to the farm again before seeking out his brother, she knew he'd throw a hissy fit and possibly break more things in her bedroom. Or he'd get vindictive and start putting his effort into haunting her dad.

And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she also knew that the strange kid probably was talking about Daryl and that she probably did need to get to him before too much time had passed. She didn't like to entertain the idea that this weird mission she was on had some kind of time limit, but if it did… well, she didn't want to be late. What if there was some actual weight in what that kid had said? What if there was more to this whole 'helping Merle cross over' thing than she'd thought? What if all that rambling nonsense that had spewed from Jadis's mouth had some sort of meaning to it?

The strange kid's words kept repeating inside Beth's head and after a few long moments of tense silence, she sighed in defeat. She didn't look over to meet Merle's gaze, keeping her eyes on the road through the windshield.

"Fine," she muttered. "We'll… try ta track him down tonight. Just fer a quick chat. I doubt he'll be willing ta listen to me, but I guess we'll see."

Merle grinned and the excitement on his face almost made her change her mind.

"Or you'll see."

He was too excited.


Beth followed Merle's given directions once they'd gotten into Senoia. At first, he directed her to a small trailer sitting in a rundown trailer park on the outskirts of town. But when they drove by and he didn't see what he was looking for, he glanced at the clock and asked what day it was. When she told him it was Tuesday, he groaned and redirected her to the other side of town. She begrudgingly drove, all the while thinking of how nice it would be to go home and lie down in her bed.

On the outskirts of the other side of town was a small bar with half a dozen motorcycles parked outside. She'd never been inside but she knew that it was one of the bars her father used to frequent back in his drinking days. But that was way before she'd come along. She'd only heard stories, she'd never had any reason to go inside. In the last few years since she'd been of legal drinking age, she'd only ever gone to bars in the city, and only at Maggie's invitation. She had no real interest in drinking or visiting drinking establishments.

But now, as she slowed and inspected the bar through the passenger window, Merle tapped the glass and grinned. "Yeah - there's 'is bike. My bike. He's here."

"So… we wait for him to come out?" She asked.

He looked at her indignantly. "No - we go inside an' corner him. You wanna be waitin' out here all night?"

Beth shrugged, frowning.

Merle grunted disapprovingly and gestured towards an open parking space outside. "Jus' park the truck an' let's go in. Time is of the essence, sweetheart. 'Member?"

She rolled her eyes but parked the truck anyway. It was a shadier spot at the side of the small building. The sun was sinking quickly behind the horizon, stars appearing in the dark sky as night took over, but there were several lights around the outside of the establishment. She clutched her gray cardigan a little tighter around herself as she locked the truck and stuffed the keys into her pocket, and this time she found herself trailing after Merle while he led the way to the entrance.

He stopped by the front door and turned around to face her, a stern expression on his face that halted her in her tracks.

"Now look - he can be a little… closed-off. Alrigh'? He's sensitive. Might be queer, I'ono, I always thought he was a li'l bit of a pussy. But he's got some stupid buddy that I never liked an' he's probably here with 'im tonight. Don't let the guy distract ya. Fucker's ugly as sin but he's harmless. He ain't got no hold on Daryl. A Dixon is a Dixon, through an' through. Can't nobody change that."

Beth stared back quizzically. "Okay…? What does that even mean? You're not helping my anxiety here, ya know."

Merle's jaw stiffened and he rolled his eyes skyward for a second, groaning. Then he waved his hands dismissively and muttered, "Nevermind. Jus' listen ta what I fuckin' tell ya and fer the love of God, don't try ta… improvise. Or whatever it is broads like you do that makes 'em look like fuckin' fools."

She crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me," she said defensively. "If anything, you'll be the one makin' me look like a fool. Let's not forget that you're the entire reason I'm even here in the first place. Your brother's gonna think I'm schizo no matter what you tell me to say."

He frowned and sucked his teeth loudly. Then he muttered, "Not necessarily. Not if you say the right things. Best get that through yer head real quick, blondie. 'Bout time you started acceptin' reality."

Her jaw dropped and she wanted to snap back with a spiteful remark. But she didn't. Instead she clenched her teeth and sighed with exasperation, assuring herself it was a losing battle and not worth the energy it would take to respond. Then she reached out and pulled open the door.

The smoke inside the bar wasn't quite as assaulting as the psychic's den but it still made her nose burn and her eyes water. Once she adjusted, she stepped farther inside and let the door fall shut behind her. The establishment was small, an open room with a bar off in one corner and a handful of tables against the walls. There was a jukebox in another corner playing classic country and wide open floor space in front of it for dancing and moving about. The smoke was all from cigarettes, drifting up and wafting about, and the smell of stale tobacco and cheap whiskey permeated everything. The lighting was dim with limited windows draped in heavy curtains, and there was a quiet hum of conversation and laughter drifting around the room.

There were no more than ten patrons scattered throughout the bar, most of them dressed in typical biker leather and vests. The majority were men, maybe two or three women, all middle-aged or older. Beth glanced around and felt horribly out of place, but Merle was quick to talk into her ear and hover at her back.

"There 'e is - in the corner," Merle pointed. "With the ugly fucker."

She followed where he was pointing and looked over to the right corner of the room, spotting a small table occupied by two men. One of them had shoulder-length blond hair and the other had shaggy dark hair. They were both clutching mugs of beer and wearing leather vests, leaning forward atop the table and conversing. The dark-haired man had broader shoulders and a thicker frame in general while the blond man was scrawny and a bit taller. But if it hadn't been for Merle, Beth probably wouldn't have been able to spot Daryl at all. His hair was longer than the photos she'd seen on Facebook and it hid his face from view.

"The one with the angel wings on his vest?" She asked quietly, eyeballing the faded white wings on the back of the dark-haired man's vest. They almost shone like a beacon from across the bar.

"Yeah," Merle assured. "Told 'im that vest was fuckin' gay but he never listened to me. Makes 'im look like a girl."

Beth scoffed and mumbled, "I think it looks nice. A lot nicer than anything you'd wear."

He laughed crudely. "Too bad fer you, you'll never see anything I'd wear, sweetcheeks."

"Right… too bad for me."

"Shit - ol' Merle all cleaned up always had all the straight girls soakin' their panties. Not like you'll ever know."

She sighed and brushed him off, asking seriously. "So how the hell am I supposed to approach this guy?"

"Psh," he huffed. "Like a person? Jus' walk up, introduce yerself - yer a pretty li'l thing, won't take much ta get his attention."

"And what about getting him alone?" She mumbled quietly, hoping no one was watching her seemingly talk to herself. "I'm not about to try ta convince this guy of our predicament while his buddy is sitting there listening to how crazy I am."

"Just mention me," Merle said simply.

She shot him a questioning look.

He shrugged. "'M serious - jus' start talkin' about my suicide or whatever. Ask 'im if he really thinks I woulda killed myself like that. He'll have to listen."

Beth closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose. "That… is not a plan."

"Shit, jus' make a move, girl! If you say the right shit, he won't be able to ignore you! C'mon, yer smart, right? Use them brains fer once."

She was realizing that she should've sat down and forced Merle to hash this out with her a lot more beforehand. But now it was too late. She was already faced with the opportunity and it was pointless to turn around and put it off any longer. Besides, this conversation would never be easy. She might as well just get it over with. Plus, if Daryl turned her down and shunned her, maybe Merle would finally realize that it was useless and that he should start focusing on other solutions.

She could hope.

Luckily for Beth, the anxiety and self-doubt caused her to linger by the front door for several long moments. And then the blond man was getting up and heading to the bathroom. And the next thing she knew, Daryl was alone at the table.

"Now - there's yer chance, go talk to 'im," Merle urged. Not that she needed his pushing.

She strode forward before she could second-guess herself and approached the dark-haired man in the angel wings vest. He didn't notice her until she was standing at the edge of his table, and even then he merely looked up and gave her a puzzled look.

"I, uh - are you Daryl Dixon?" She didn't know what else to start with. Merle scoffed behind her but she ignored him.

Daryl's dark hair was in dire need of a cut and partially hid his face but she could see narrowed azure eyes studying her and his mouth pressed into a thin line between a graying mustache and goatee. His shoulders were hunched but his back straightened when he realized she was speaking to him. He glanced her up and down. Then he scowled.

"Yeah?" He asked. His voice was low and gruff, much deeper and quieter than Merle's but a hell of a lot easier on the ears.

Her mouth had suddenly gone dry and she could feel her face turning red. "I, uh - your brother. Merle - "

He cut her off with a scoff of disgust and a scornful look. "He's dead. I ain't got no drugs for ya an' he didn't have shit when he died. Sorry, but I can't help ya. Best keep movin'."

She was left speechless. Merle was sputtering behind her, audibly indignant.

"That fucker," he growled.

"No, I'm not - that's not what I'm here for," she clarified. "I don't want drugs. I don't do any of that."

Daryl met her gaze again and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Yeah? All I been gettin's a buncha tweakers hittin' me up fer whatever he owes 'em. The hell you want from me, girl? He's dead."

She shook her head and insisted, "I didn't know your brother when he was alive. Look - this is gonna sound absolutely insane, but Merle's suicide maybe, probably, possibly might not have been an actual… suicide. I-I have this um, information…"

His brow furrowed and his frown was deepening with every word she spoke, eyeballing her suspiciously the whole time.

"I know you don't know me. I don't know you either. And I didn't know your brother, but he - well, okay, look… He's dead. And he won't leave me alone," Beth said matter-of-factly. "You might not believe me and I don't expect you to, but all I want is to get rid of this asshole. He's driving me insane."

Daryl blinked in astonishment and his mouth opened but no sound came out. He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, blinking again. For the briefest second, she thought he might believe her.

Then he chuckled.

"Yeah. Alright. Sounds like you been doin' too many drugs, darlin'. Lay off the dope, he'll go away."

She clenched her hands into fists at her side and argued, "I'm not on drugs, dude. I promise you. Do I really look like somebody who's strung out on dope?"

He shrugged. "Kinda. Yer pretty goddamn skinny."

Merle laughed loudly from behind her.

Beth sighed and quirked an eyebrow. "That's it? I'm skinny so I must be on meth? Real nice."

Daryl shook his head and chuckled, waving a hand as if to shoo her away. "Whatever. I don't know you an' I ain't got nothin' ta do with any'a Merle's bullshit. Whatever y'all had worked out don't mean shit ta me an' I don't owe you a fuckin' thing. Walk on, princess."

Well they're definitely brothers, she thought, growing frustrated.

"Tell 'im ta ask you somethin' that only I would know," Merle suggested.

She sighed and straightened her back, focusing on Daryl even though he was looking down at his beer and pretending she wasn't there. His friend would be back any second and she was becoming desperate. If she couldn't convince him now, she definitely wouldn't be able to convince him once his friend was present.

"Okay - I'll prove it. Ask me something that only Merle would know," she said.

Daryl chuckled and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. He wouldn't look at her but his voice was edged with annoyance. "Look, I ain't playin' yer stupid game. I don't entertain dopeheads."

Merle growled from behind her and practically yelled in her ear, causing her to jump. "Ask 'im about the time I convinced him ta stick his dick in a dead racoon!"

Beth turned her head and looked at Merle with repulsion.

He raised his eyebrows and urged her, "Go on! Ask 'im!"

She responded without thinking, "Ugh, no! I'm not asking him that!"

Merle rolled his eyes and groaned but she snapped her mouth shut and quickly looked to see Daryl staring at her with wide eyes. Then he shook his head and scoffed.

"Jesus, you really are deep in it, ain't ya? Hearin' voices an' shit? Better get into detox 'fore it's too late, sweetheart." He picked up his beer and took a long swig, once again pretending she wasn't there.

Her face went beet red and she wanted nothing more than to turn and flee from the bar and never look back. But Merle was still in her ear, his anger and frustration growing even quicker than her own.

"Fine - fine," she surrendered, sighing and looking down for a second. She leaned in a bit and lowered her voice and asked as seriously as she could manage, "Um, he - he said to ask you about the… the dead racoon."

Daryl's eyes went wide and he immediately gave her his full attention. He looked taken aback and a bit embarrassed, his cheeks turning pink even as he shook his head and waved a hand to shoo her away.

"I don't wanna hear 'bout whatever kinda weird shit Merle used ta tell you when y'all pillow talked," he growled angrily. "Get the hell outta here. I ain't ever hit a woman before but if you keep talkin' to me like that, I'mma start considering it."

Beth took a step back, her heart pounding.

"Goddammit!" Merle cursed in her ear. "Stubborn li'l prick. I shoulda known he wouldn't give a shit about me. His only brother, the only person who ever fuckin' cared about 'im!"

"You're not helping - I need better suggestions," she whispered through clenched teeth, though she was pretty sure Daryl could still hear her. He was sitting hunched over his beer but every muscle in his body was tense and he looked dangerously close to lashing out at her if she didn't leave him alone.

Merle grumbled angrily for a second, then he snapped his fingers and said decisively, "Ah! Tell 'im - fuck. Tell him… that Mama's fire wasn't no accident. Tell 'im all those questions he had - tell 'im I got the answers. If he still wants 'em."

Beth blinked, perplexed. But she didn't have time to unpack this particular baggage right now. So she took his suggestion and ran with it, attempting to word it as convincingly as possible.

"The fire that killed your mom," she started. He whipped his head around and glared at her, but she continued before he could snap back. "Merle says it wasn't an accident. He says if you still want the answers to all those questions you had, he has them."

All the blood had drained from Daryl's face and he was staring at her with disbelief, his mouth open but no sound emitting. His tight grip around the beer mug had gone lax and he wasn't even blinking.

She added, "Whenever you're ready."

He appeared to be speechless, still eyeing her with skepticism yet seemingly in a different light than before. She hoped she'd at least convinced him that she wasn't on drugs.

"Shit - Ugly's comin' back," Merle muttered, and she glanced over to see what he meant.

Daryl's friend was returning from the bathroom and Beth saw why Merle called him "ugly" for the first time: half his face was scarred from a burn, leaving half of his blond hair patchy and wispy along with it. He wasn't ugly, though. In fact, he looked like he might be a pretty nice guy. Not that she necessarily wanted to find out.

Beth gave Daryl a meaningful look and told him, "I'll wait outside if you decide you wanna talk to him again - and maybe help me get rid of him for good. I'm parked on the side, a black truck. If you don't want to… you won't hear from me again. I'll figure it out on my own."

Before he could respond, she turned around and fast-walked toward the front door with Merle hot on her heels and muttering angrily to himself. She couldn't take a real deep breath until she got outside to the fresh air.

"The hell was that?! You can't be givin' him options!" Merle cried as they walked back to the truck.

She shook her head and sighed, heart still pounding inside her chest. She guessed her face was probably still bright red, too. "Because if I give him an option, it won't make me seem like some desperate lunatic lookin' for a drug deal or something."

"Nuh-uh, not necessary. Mentioning Mama's fire was more'an enough, trust me. Daryl ain't never done good with makin' his own decisions."

She stopped in front of the truck and spun around to face Merle, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "How would you know? He's a grown man, maybe part of the reason you 'drifted apart' is 'cause you say shit like that - acting like he can't make his own decisions. Maybe if you'd given him more options, he would've still been following you around and you wouldn't've killed yourself - "

"I didn't fucking kill myself! Goddammit! You don't know my brother, Beth! I do!"

Merle's face had gone deep red and his fists were clenched at his sides. But Beth was growing so accustomed to his anger that she didn't let it faze her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. "You knew him. People change, Merle."

He scowled. "Bullshit. People stay the same, no matter what kinda pretty new masks they end up tryin' on. At the end a the day, ain't nobody that can get away from who they really are. 'Specially not a Dixon."

Beth quirked an eyebrow. "From what you told me, Daryl isn't exactly like every other Dixon."

Merle threw his head back and barked out a cold laugh. "Shit, maybe so. But where it matters? That boy's a hundred an' fifty percent Dixon. Till the day he dies."

He paused and grinned proudly, blue eyes twinkling.

"Hell - even after he dies. Jus' look at me! I'm dead proof!"

She rolled her eyes and he laughed even harder.

Please help me, Daryl, she silently prayed. You might be the only person who can teach me how to deal with this dickhead.

to be continued...