Daryl carried all the bags of groceries up the steps in one load. He hated having to make more than one trip. He kicked the door when he got to the apartment and heard Lincoln yip and howl from inside. They'd picked the dog up that morning and besides the fact that he seemed a little drunk, he was no worse for the wear, but Carol was still insisting that he'd been through a traumatic experience and needed a lot of attention.

As a result, Daryl had been sent out for groceries. They were having tacos and every type of junk food known to man and they were staying in for the night so that Carol could nurse Lincoln to her heart's content. Their plan was to find a movie or two on television and make a night of pigging out and watching television. Daryl was sure, if he could coax the puppy into sleeping off his trauma, they might be able to do a little more on the couch.

Carol opened the door and Lincoln slipped out, sniffing around in the hall and sniffing around Daryl as he pushed his way through the door with all the bags.

"Come on, Lincoln, come back in," Carol said to the dog.

Daryl unloaded the bags on the table for Carol to go through and turned to watch her trying to coax the puppy back in the door. He was apparently not paying her as much attention as she would like at first, finding the hallway to be one of interesting smells. Daryl chuckled to himself. That whole building smelled pretty interesting and he couldn't even begin to think what it might smell like to Lincoln.

"Come on, Lincoln, back inside," Carol urged again, following the puppy in the odd circle he was making in the hallway.

"Can't hear ya," Daryl said. "Got too much damn ears ta be able ta hear nothin'."

Carol eyed him and went back to urging the puppy. Finally, Lincoln apparently decided there was more of interest in the apartment and he bounded in, past Daryl. Carol followed him in a moment later, smiling.

"See, he listens," she said.

"Dog weren't a bit more listenin' ta ya than a man in the moon," Daryl said. "He just come in 'cause somethin' in here was better than somethin' out there."

"That's not true," Carol said. "Lincoln's good, he just needs a little more practice."

Daryl chuckled again, shaking his head, and closed the door. Carol had turned her attention, now, to going through the bags of food and he sat on the arm of the couch where he could watch her.

"You like tacos, right?" Carol asked.

Daryl nodded.

"Only thing I don't like outta them bags is onions," Daryl said.

Carol looked at him.

"No onions it is, then," she said. "Lincoln acts like he's feeling a little bit better."

Daryl grunted. The dog was laying on the floor right now, about a half a foot from the bed that he was supposed to laying on, and looking at the bottom of the couch. He didn't think the dog acted like it felt bad even when they picked it up, but apparently he wasn't sensitive enough to the way the dog expressed itself.

There was a knock at the door and Licoln's head perked up and he howled. Daryl got up to open the door.

"I hope his howlin' ain't always that pathetic soundin'," Daryl said, swinging the door open.

Merle was standing there, leaning in the doorway.

"Where's Andrea?" Merle asked.

Lincoln started to bound out the door again and Daryl reached down, scooping up the wiggling dog to keep Carol from having to chase after it insisting that he was a well behaved dog.

"How'm I s'posed ta know?" Daryl asked. "If she ain't home, she'll be home. Ain't like she dropped by here ta get permission ta go nowhere."

Merle narrowed his eyes at Daryl a little and leaned inside the apartment to watch Carol who was already working on getting their dinner ready.

"Where ya been all damn day?" Merle asked.

"Went ta get the dog this mornin'," Daryl said. "She had 'em cut his nuts off an' he got ta come home today. We been here other than that. I went ta buy food but it ain't took me too long."

Merle nodded, sucking his teeth a little.

"Ya been here, just wrapped up with the damn dog all day?" Merle asked.

"The dog," Carol said without looking up from what she was doing, "is named Lincoln. He had surgery yesterday and he's been a little disoriented so I've been here all day to make sure he's OK."

Merle smirked at Daryl who was still holding Lincoln.

"What the hell kinda name is Lincoln for a hound?" Merle asked. "Prob'ly why he's got that damn girly bark…that an' ya done gone and done a pisser thing like cut off his balls."

"He'll grow into his bark," Carol said. "I bet the way you cry now and the way you cried as a baby were different."

"Ehhh…" Merle drawled, "could be, 'cept I ain't the cryin' kind." He turned regarding Daryl for a moment. "Come on, Derlina, we goin' out. I think ya need a man's night ta get away from all this girly shit. She'll be paintin' ya damn toenails soon."

Daryl looked toward Carol. She didn't look at him at all.

"We gon' watch a movie tonight," Daryl said. "Carol's makin' dinner right now too."

"So?" Merle asked. "Leftovers will be here when ya get back an' ya oughta spend some time with ya brothah. Ya need a lil' manly influence in ya life."

"You can go, Daryl, if you want to," Carol said. "There will be plenty of food leftover and there's always something to watch on television."

Carol put down her knife then and wiped her hands on her pants legs. She walked over to the door and took Lincoln out of Daryl's arms. Daryl looked at her, trying to determine if she was serious or not. He didn't really want to go with Merle, but he also didn't want to put up with the harassment that would follow if he were to refuse his offer. Carol didn't look mad, though, that he was changing plans. She was busy kissing Lincoln behind the ear and eying Daryl over the top of the dog's head.

"Ya sure?" Daryl asked, hoping that she'd say she really needed him to stay with her. She nodded instead.

"Go," she said. "It'll be good for you. A little male bonding time, or whatever it is you guys do."

Daryl shrugged a little.

"We can do the movie thing another night," he said, feeling guilty now for not staying.

Carol smiled.

"Any time," she said.

Daryl turned his attention back to Merle.

"What about Andrea?" Daryl asked. "Ya ain't gon' tell her that ya goin' out?"

"Andrea don't boss me," Merle said. "She'll see I ain't at the fuckin' apartment an' I reckon she'll be smart enough ta figure I done left."

Daryl chewed at his thumbnail. He supposed there was nothing wrong with going out with Merle and Carol seemed alright with it. He thought about it a moment longer and then followed Merle out the door. He wanted to kiss Carol goodbye, but he really wasn't up for hearing Merle's mouth, so he decided to skip it just this time.

"Yeah…" Merle said when Daryl was following him down the steps. "That's what ya need, lil' brothah…some time ta spend with ole Merle…"

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Daryl sat in the booth at the Water Ho and tried to figure out, for about the second hour as far as he could figure, exactly how he'd ended up here. Merle was across from him, drinking steady shots from a whiskey bottle. Daryl had probably taken four or so, but he wasn't feeling anything whereas his brother seemed to be feeling quite sodden.

Merle had insisted on a booth. He had to talk to Daryl…that was essentially what he had said…about his life and what he was doing with it. Daryl hadn't heard too much come out of his brother's mouth, though, except an appreciation of Mary Ann Walsh's ass and some discussion about the size of Loretta's tits.

"What are we doin' here Merle," Daryl asked. Right now he could be eating tacos and watching television curled on the couch with Carol and that sounded a whole hell of a lot better than sipping stale whiskey at a booth that leaned slightly in a bar with all the other sorry assholes that had no better place to be after a workday. "It's my damn day off."

"Ya damn day off, an' what tha hell was ya doin' with it anyway, boy? Makin' kissy faces at that damn woman?" Merle chuckled and took another shot. "She had that dog's nuts cut off, an' ya best take that as a warnin' boy, she'll do the same ta you if ya give her half a chance."

Daryl plucked a cigarette out of his pocket, rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Shows ya how damn much ya know, Merle," Daryl said.

"What'cha think ya doin' boy? Playin' house with that woman? Rollin' around with stinkin' hounds an' shit? Ya gon' tell me that she's done whipped ya?" Merle asked. "Ya done tryin' ta shack up with her an' ya don't even know her. She's had ya eatin' outta her hand an' ya ain't even gettin' no pussy from her."

Daryl rolled his eyes at his brother. His only hope, really, at this moment was that Merle might drink too much and pass out. He was considering asking Loretta to just let him sleep it off overnight there, locked in the roach infested bar. Maybe that would cook his jets a little.

Merle might think that he and Carol weren't having sex with each other, but Daryl knew it wasn't true, and frankly he didn't care if Merle knew about it or not. He didn't think it was much of Merle's business what they did together, and Merle wasn't invited to be there when they did decide they wanted to enjoy each other's company in that way.

"I thought ya might be a Dixon, boy, that night ya come rollin' in with that little piece over there. I was kinda proud of ya, but then ya let me down. Ya ain't even knowed how ta take care a' her. Damn, I might just have ta take her home with me ta keep ya from soilin' the family name so damn bad."

Daryl rolled his eyes again, sliding the shot glass on the table back and forth between both of his hands.

"I'm sure Andrea would get a hoot outta that," Daryl said.

"Andrea don't matter ta me one damn bit, boy. Ain't her place no way," Merle said.

"She's livin' there," Daryl said. "Last accounts I had she was the one that paid the electric bill an' I ain't bought them groceries ya been eatin'."

"I ain't asked her ta move her ass in there. That's what a woman'll do if ya ain't payin' enough attention. Thinks she can move in on ya, a lil' bit at a time, 'til she's got'cha pegged down or somethin'. Andrea ain't peggin' my ass no damn farther. You, though, Daryl, you 'bout ta get'cha ass good an' nailed down if ya don't open ya eyes an' see it comin'," Merle said, pouring himself another shot.

Daryl reached across the table and grabbed the bottle, pouring himself another shot as well. Merle was drinking because Merle always drank when there was something on his mind. Daryl was drinking in the hope to escape whatever was on Merle's mind.

"Ya did ask her ta move in, I 'member it," Daryl said. "I reckon she ain't done nothin' all that sneaky. She did 'xactly what ya ass told her ta do."

Merle chuckled a little, sucking at his teeth and took another shot, gazing out at the smoky bar. Daryl wasn't sure if he was looking at Mary Ann, at the people playing a sorry game of pool, or just looking out at his sorry comrades in arms who were fighting the good fight against domesticity and sobriety.

"Fuck you, Derlina," Merle said.

Daryl snickered. The typical drunk Merle response to any comment that he couldn't figure out how to respond to. He always seemed to think it won something in any battle of wits, but it really just served to show that you were right.

"Ya really willin', boy, ta just hand ya nuts over ta that woman? Just like that? Hell ya just found 'em an' ya didn't even use 'em when the hell ya found 'em! Ya just handed 'em right over ta this woman like she's gonna give a damn about'cha," Merle said, shaking his head.

Daryl fiddled with the shot glass. He could feel his shoulders aching and he knew it was because he was tense. This very same conversation, at least in one of its hundred varied forms, was a conversation that he'd had with Merle since he could remember being able to speak. He forgave Merle his sins because he was his fucking brother and because he knew that Merle had seen shit that even he hadn't seen. It didn't mean, though, that he thought Merle was always right, or that he ever thought Merle wasn't an asshole.

"I ain't handed her my damn nuts," Daryl growled. "And even if I fuckin' did, what the hell was I doin' with 'em? Ya said yaself I just found 'em…must mean they weren't doin' me no fuckin' good. How ya know, Merle? How ya know she don't give a damn?"

Merle eyed Daryl through heavy lidded eyes and sucked his teeth again, scratching at his neck.

"Ya ain't made a' the kinda shit she's lookin' for, boy. Ya ain't no prince charmin' an' ya ain't gonna find no fuckin' happily ever afters. That just ain't'cha lot in life. Ya can look at that woman an' tell she ain't gon' be happy with no Dixon. She'll try ta change ya, Daryl, try ta fit'cha in her lil' damn box, but she'll get sick a' ya an' then ya gon' come crawlin' ta me with ya tail tucked between ya legs an' wantin' me ta fix ya," Merle said.

Daryl chewed at his thumb nail. Maybe Merle was right, at least to some degree. He and Carol were from different worlds, that much was obvious. Carol's apartment was nice. It was clean and it smelled like flowers. They certainly had different views on the dog, but Hershel seemed to think that was just a fundamental difference between women and men, and so Daryl hadn't really tried to think about it any longer. Daryl didn't really know what Carol was looking for in life, not really at least, but he couldn't imagine that what she'd want would be too far from what he wanted. He didn't know if she knew Hershel and Miss Jo very well, but he thought she might not mind so much being like them.

Daryl didn't know if Carol gave a damn about him, as Merle would put it, but he felt like she did. He didn't know what to call it, and he didn't know what she would call it, but she looked at him like she cared. She mostly always seemed excited when she saw him, and she'd been very soft and liked to cuddle against him when they were together. He supposed that had to mean something. You wouldn't want to be all over someone that you didn't care about at all.

"Ya know what the hell I think?" Daryl said. "I think this ain't about me and Carol. I think this shit ya do is about you, Merle."

Merle smirked at him.

"Oh ya do, do ya? Ya gon' tell me ya all part a' her lil' world now?" Merle asked.

"No, Merle, I ain't sayin' that," Daryl said. "Fuck if I know what the hell we doin' together, but I got a pretty good mind that she don't neither. Ya know what, though, we doin' what the hell feels right ta us an' I reckon we'll work on the fuckin' details as we come to 'em."

"Well ain't that just pretty," Merle said. "And when she leaves ya ass for somethin' better? Who ya gonna work ya fuckin' details out with then? Ehh? That's right, ya ole brothah…'cause when she's gone an' ya realize I was right, ya gonna know I always was the only one that was there."

Daryl nodded a little.

"Merle…I know ya prob'ly always gonna be sore 'bout the shit our parents done. Maybe ain't neither one a' us gonna ever forgive 'em for everything, but don't'cha wanta try some time ta move the fuck on? What if ya bigger than our old man was? What if ya got more ta offer than he did? Just 'cause ya got his fuckin' name don't mean ya him," Daryl said. "Hell, try some fuckin' baby steps an' just admit that ya give a damn about Andrea."

Daryl looked at his brother. Merle was at the stage of drunkenness now where he looked sleepy, or bored, or both. Daryl didn't figure he was getting his brother home alone. He chuckled to himself when he thought that the only way that Merle was likely making it back was if they called the cops for assistance or if Daryl went and got Andrea, the very same person that Merle claimed to not give a damn about, and she helped him drag his worthless ass the two blocks back.

"I told ya," Merle said. "I ain't some kinda pansy ass dreamer like you, Daryl. I don't give a damn 'bout that woman. I could take her ass or leave her. If she don't never come back it ain't no damn skin off my teeth. Women are a dime a dozen, boy. Just remember there ain't no pussy that's made a' gold."

Daryl sighed. Merle was gone now…too far drunk to come back. He sat here, in a nasty booth at a trashy bar, just like he'd done in numerous other nameless bars, and tried to drown all the sorry of his life in a bottle of whiskey. Daryl knew his brother had seen the bottom of a lot of bottles, but so far not one of them had held a single answer.

The funny thing was, though, was that Merle was drinking to find the answers to questions that he didn't even know he had. He'd spent his whole life trying to shut himself down. Trying to prove to Daryl and the whole world that he was the one man alive that didn't have any feelings at all. None. Merle was a human stone wall, and he wanted Daryl to be the same.

And Daryl tried, with less enthusiasm than his brother, to be made of stone too, but Daryl knew he had feelings. It wasn't that he didn't have them, it was that he didn't like them. He wasn't always sure what to do with them and he wasn't always sure what they meant. They were there, though, and he'd tried a good bit to follow in his brother's footsteps and push them down, but it didn't work for him as well as it did for Merle. And when Merle was drunk like this, it was pretty obvious that it didn't work for Merle either.

Daryl stood up.

"You're so piss drunk ya ass couldn't make it out the damn door if the whole fuckin' place was burnin' down around ya," Daryl said. "I might be fuckin' up my life…ya might be right…an' I reckon I'm just gonna have ta fuckin' deal with it if I do…but'cha ain't doin' real good with ya own, Merle," Daryl said.

Merle mumbled something at him that he couldn't make out and reached for the whiskey bottle. Daryl snatched it off the table and held it in his hand for a minute. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to hit Merle with it right now.

"Stay ya sloppy ass here," Daryl said. "I'm goin' ta get some fuckin' help ta haul ya outta here." He finished, sighing.

Daryl circled around a moment, finding Loretta. He gave her the whiskey bottle and asked her to make sure that Merle didn't get anything else to drink and didn't wander off. He'd be back in just a bit to get to his worthless brother's carcass and drag it home, or at least to the back of the truck, since he was beginning to think he wouldn't even be able to halfway walk himself home.

Daryl left the bar, mulling over what Merle had said.

If he said he wasn't somewhat worried that things would go to hell with Carol, he'd be lying. They'd already fallen apart once, and he wasn't positive they wouldn't fall apart again. He was a Dixon, after all, and they did have a magical way of fucking things up.

Still, Andrea believed that he had the potential to be like Hershel and that somewhere he could figure out a way to get out of living the shit life that his family had passed down for generations. So the least he could do was hope she was right.

As for Merle…Daryl felt sorry for Merle. Even as he walked back toward the apartment, breathing in the air around him and thinking about the fact that he was going to have to figure out how to get Merle up the stairs so that he could pass out in the apartment, Daryl couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Merle thought he was a dreamer. He'd always teased him about his fairy tale dreams and shit. Merle was just as deep into it as he was though, except that in Merle's fairy tale he was more like some troll living under the bridge, and he'd found that existence to be a comfortable one.

Daryl wondered thought, though, that maybe if it was possible for him to get his dream of being like Hershel and Miss Jo, maybe it was possible to find something for Merle. Somehow, maybe, he could find him a dream…maybe not the same kind as Daryl's, but one at least where he didn't think he was happy being some wretched ass troll under a bridge. Maybe one that he could live with enough that he didn't feel the need to drink himself into oblivion on a regular basis.

Daryl didn't know if it was possible, though, to ever pull Merle out from under his bridge. He knew it wasn't possible tonight. Tonight the best he could do was go and coax Andrea to come and help him get Merle moved from the shitty bar to the shitty apartment. Merle's future might hold something grand in the long run, but for right now it only held the promise of a really epic hangover.