Make Damn Sure

Chapter Two

The car behind her began to honk, breaking the staring contest she was locked in with her the grisly old bastard she unfortunately called her brother-in-law. He was leaning into the open window of the passenger side of her little car, and the traffic light had just turned green.

"Get in. We're causing traffic."

Beth wasn't one to make assumptions about people she didn't really know, but if she was the betting type she would've wagered that Merle had just got out of prison based on his haggard appearance and meager pack. It wouldn't surprise her if he did, Merle was a regular visitor at several correctional facilities across the state, but he was also a drifter.

The last she heard from him, he had been booked in a small town jail at the Georgia-Alabama border for disturbing the peace. That was over two years ago now, and it was the last time Daryl had gone to bail him out. She remembers that night especially well because it had been Daryl's first night taking care of Abel by himself, and she had been so mad when he had called to say he had to bring the baby back to her so he could go and bail his brother out.

"S'prised you'd give me a hitch." Merle mumbles as he climbed into her hatchback. The car was a gift from her parents when she graduated high school, and even though it was pre-owned it had never let her down.

"Yeah, well today is the Lord's day. Just bein' a good samaritan."

She doesn't look him in the eye when she speaks to him, she never liked making eye contact with him, not four years ago and certainly not now, but she knows that the sarcasm in her voice isn't lost on him. He doesn't offer a response, just a little grunt of acknowledgement.

Merle lets out another grunt when his seat abruptly lurched forward, and he turns around to find a tow-headed little boy staring at him with a frown.

His baby brother's boy.

Abel.

He remembers Daryl mentioning his name the last time they spoke. He'd been so pissed when he came to bail him out of the jailhouse of that podunk little town, saying how he just fucked up his chance to make things right.

"Can't do this no more, Merle."

They were walking out of the small jailhouse in the middle of the night: Merle, still coasting on his high, and Daryl, hands in his pockets and trying (poorly) to hide his anger.

"Hmm?"

"Can't come and clean up yer mess no more. I gotta do right by Beth and Abel. Can't do that when I'm always lookin' after ya."

That cut straight through Merle's high and he felt his blood instantly boil.

"'Lookin' after me'? Now ya listen' here ya little punk bitch. Who took care'ya after Mama died? The old man? Hell nah, that was me. Now ya think ya can leave yer kin behind because some bitch is givin' ya the time of day 'gain?"

He had gotten into Daryl's face and was ready to brawl but was surprised when his baby brother just shook his head and walked away.

Merle never thought he would see the day that Daryl would leave him behind, but the boy was true to his word and never responded to any of his phone calls from the Alabama prison he'd been locked up in for the last two years.

Now here he was, sitting in a little blue car with his brother's son and baby mama, so he guessed that Daryl was able to make things right.

"Yer name's Abel?" he asks the boy.

The child looks at him with pure suspicion, and Merle couldn't fault him. He probably looked like hell warmed over, and if the kid was anything like his mama then he would always be wary of him.

"Yeah," was all the little shit said before giving the back of his seat another hard kick.

From the corner of his eye, Merle sees Beth smile at her son's action.

They drive in uncomfortable silence down the country road, both adults wondering what Daryl will think when he sees his brother delivered to his doorstep like an unwanted surprise present. Beth taps her wedding band against the steering wheel, it was one of her little nervous ticks; if she hadn't been driving then she would have been twisting the simple gold band around her finger while she thought of the possible scenarios that'll play out once they reach home.

She knew that Daryl will definitely be a little angry at first, but he'd eventually be okay having his brother under their roof since she was the one who brought him along. He had told her that he was done with Merle and his disturbance on their lives, but she figured that it would be temporary and the older Dixon was only passing through. It also wouldn't be bad for Abel to know his other uncle (so long as there was adult supervision, of course).

"Mama look at the cows."

Beth glances at the field on her left. It was usually littered with small groups of grazing cattle, but today they were all standing together as one large herd. They all looked strangely vigilant and she could hear the sounds of their low bellowing moos even through the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" playing on loop.

They're frightened.

She remembers seeing the cows back at the farm act like this whenever there was a coyote nearby. It had always been the signal for her daddy and Otis to take their shotguns and go looking for the interlopers.

Suddenly the cattle herd began to run. Beth was so distracted at the sight she didn't see the pothole in the middle of the road and drove straight into it. The front tire burst with a muffled pop and Abel shrieked in fright as she jerked the car to a halt.

"God damn blondie, ya blind or somethin'?!" Merle exclaims, rubbing his head from where it smacked hard against the dashboard.

Beth pointedly ignores him in favor of unbuckling her seatbelt with a sigh and preparing to change her tire. Daryl had taught her a while back but she'd never had to do it before today.

"Ya really gonna change the tire all by yerself, blondie?" Merle asks as he leans against the side of the car, watching as she pulled out the spare tire and floor jack from the trunk. It was one of the perks of being married to a mechanic: she had all the basic tools in her trunk to at least get her car to the nearest garage.

"I could, but a gentleman would at least offer to help."

Merle can't remember if she's always had such a sharp tongue but it continues to catch him off guard nonetheless. He snorts at the little spitfire she's become before rolling up his sleeves and helping her change the busted tire. They work together quickly and efficiently, surprising both of them.

Just as they were almost done, Beth heard Abel start whimpering from inside the car and left Merle to finish tightening the lug nuts onto the spare tire. She knows that her son is exhausted so she unbuckles him from his carseat and snuggles him in her arms. Abel responds immediately and wraps his arms and legs around her, hanging on like a baby spidermonkey while burying his face into the side of her neck.

Merle grunts at the sight of the mother and child.

"Ya makin' him soft with all that coddlin'."

She stops her swaying and humming at his words and feels herself grip her boy tighter as she glares at the older man.

"He's a baby and he's tired, Merle."

"He's a Dixon, an' Dixons don't cry.'Specially don't cry just 'cause ya tired."

She swears that she'd club him with the tire iron if she wasn't holding Abel, and she settles for walking away from him. She's able to calm her son down and he's falls asleep the moment she buckles him back into his car seat.

Beth waits for Merle to finish putting everything away, and as soon as they pull back onto the road, she breaks the silence.

"Ya best remember that my boy was born a Greene. He ain't ever gonna be like what you say Dixons are, not if Daryl and I can help it."

Her voice is quiet and soft, but even a thick-headed man like Merle can hear the steel behind her words.

The sun had already set by the time they arrive back to their small house in Barnesville, and Beth immediately notices that Daryl's truck isn't in the driveway. Abel is still asleep so she brings him to bed before she attempts to call Daryl. She's learned to not call him when he goes out hunting because it's an exercise in futility, but he should've been home by now and he should expect her to bombard him with worried phone calls.

The line goes straight to the automated voicemail and she quietly swears at her husband for letting his phone run out of battery. Again.

She tries a few more times even though she knew it was essentially useless, and when she gets his voicemail a third time in a row she finally gives up and decides to tidy up the house.

"So where's Darlene?" Merle asks, and Beth sees that he has made himself cozy on the couch in their living room.

"I don't know. He went hunting yesterday but he's supposed to be home by now."

Merle can see the worry on the blonde's face in the way her brows come together and crinkle and in the way her face pinched; he ignores the envy that flares deep in his gut because he's never had anyone worry for him like that.

While Beth goes off to unpack her overnight bags, Merle finds himself poking around the small home. It was cleaner than any other place he's ever stayed at before, and he chuckles at the idea of his baby brother vacuuming and dusting like a properly neutered husband.

The walls of the hallway and living room were painted a pale sunny yellow, and there are framed photos hanging on the walls and displayed on the fireplace mantle; some are of people he doesn't know, but most of them feature Daryl and his family.

Beth and Abel's smiles are wide and identical, and Daryl's got a thin but genuine tilt to his lips, and Merle swears that it's the first smile he's seen on his baby brother's face in decades. There's a small pile of toys on the coffee table and Merle pulls out a small action figure from between the cushions of the couch where it had been poking him in the ass.

He sees the series of small lines on the wall next to the front door and for some reason he knew right away that each lined represented Abel's height over the years.

No one ever cared about how much Merle or Daryl had grown when they were boys.

Christ almighty, his baby brother was really living a different life now. No more wandering around from town to town. No more wild nights of getting lit and raising hell. Daryl was a bonafide family man now: he had a kid who cried too much and a pretty little wife who probably never gave him any.

Merle hadn't said a word when he caught sight of the thin gold band on Beth's ring finger earlier while she was tapping it on the steering wheel (right before she drove into that pothole like a dumbass). He couldn't believe that Daryl had actually gone and married the girl he'd knocked up, but Merle was not completely blind to the emotions of the heart; he had known how much his brother missed the girl all those years ago before he went crawling back for her forgiveness.

He can hear Beth humming some sweet tune in the kitchen, so he drowns it out by turning on the tv. Television was definitely something he missed while he was locked up. The past two years were probably the most stressful in his life, though he would rather die than admit it.

The St. Clair Correctional Facility in Alabama was by far the worst prison he'd ever been in, and considering he was a sort of connoisseur in all things prison related, it was saying a lot. He'd seen at least a dozen shankings in the two years he was there, and he'd found himself on the wrong end of an improvised magazine shank a time or two. He had survived mainly by ingratiating himself to the handful of corrupt correctional officers and joining up with the other drug traffickers.

Merle had never been more relieved to be released from the big house than when he was the week before. After he got out, he had immediately made his way east on I-20 back to Atlanta.

Back to Daryl.

Of course he hadn't been sure if his baby brother would still be in Barnesville, but it had been his only lead. It was blind luck that he was on that street corner the moment Beth had rolled up.

Despite the years, he recognized her the moment their eyes met. She looked almost exactly like the same girl who had shown up at his brother's doorstep, nervously announcing that she was pregnant. Same long, light blonde hair; same big blue eyes. She's older, of course, but she was still too pretty for any Dixon to have, even sweet little Daryl.

And the kid looks almost exactly like Beth; the only bit of his brother he saw in the boy are his eyes. And even though he snarked at her earlier when she was cuddling the kid he knew that mama's boy personality came from Daryl, too. It's what had made him a prime target for their bastard father all those years ago.

All of his reminiscing is cut short by a noise blasting from the television.

The emergency alert service interrupted the evening game show Merle wasn't paying attention to, and Beth was drawn into the living room by the deafening sound. She poked her head into the living room to see what was going on, and together they watched as the words 'Civil Danger Warning' scrolled across the screen. The automated recording began to play and Merle saw the way Beth's spine stiffened with fear.

"The following message is transmitted at the request of the Georgia Emergency Management Agency…"

AN: Now the ball is rolling! It amazes me the random things I will research in order to make this story as accurate as possible. Like the magazine shank? I have a coworker who knows a few unsavory people and shanks made out of newspapers and magazines are a real thing. Also, the St. Clair Correctional Facility is apparently one of the worst prisons in the state of Alabama. Thanks for reading and please leave a review!

AN 2: Hurray I finished editing this in record time! Chapter 3 will be posted shortly :)