Sinclaire lay on her side of the box truck staring at the roof in sleepless thought. Merle had no such problems. He'd finished off the bottle of Jack and was currently sleeping like a baby. She'd been surprised and happy to discover that he didn't snore. She hated that sound. Merle was a quiet sleeper and, other than the fact that they'd woken up closer than strictly necessary a few times due to their habit of stretching out in sleep, she didn't really mind sharing the back of the truck with him.

She sighed. Daryl Dixon was not the man she'd thought he'd be. Where were the glasses? Where was the stutter? Merle's description rang so untrue that she would have been convinced she'd landed on the wrong Daryl Dixon if it hadn't been for the accent and the crossbow.

And the fact that he knew very well what Merle was capable of. She'd wondered what kind of revenge Merle would take if he found the people responsible for his lost hand and his separation from his brother. His surprisingly attractive brother. She shook her head as if to dislodge the thought. It didn't matter if Daryl Dixon was the sexiest man since Murphy MacManus, what mattered was that his loyalties were obviously divided. Hers were not.

She glanced over at Merle; the stump of his right hand rested just at his belt buckle and his left hand cradled his head. Perfect? No. The man she'd defend with her last breath? Surprisingly yes.

She planned to meet the survivors and find out their feelings about Merle before she tried to re-integrate an angry redneck into what was left of society. Sinclaire sighed and rolled onto her stomach. Tomorrow's walk would be pretty long. Daryl had said five miles to the camp. And she wasn't even exactly sure where it was. Merle had been right about one thing. His brother wasn't much of a talker.

Daryl waited until most of the group had gone quiet as they usually did while they were eating.

"Met somebody today," he said casually, chewing his deer meat methodically.

"What?" Glenn stared at him. "Who? Where?"

"Ya ain't worried about how and why?" Daryl drawled with a half grin.

"That too," Glenn replied.

"A woman named Sinclaire Lewis…" he began.

"Sinclaire Lewis?" Dale repeated. "A woman named Sinclaire Lewis?"

"There a reason a woman shouldn't be named Sinclaire Lewis?" Daryl asked.

"Sinclair Lewis was…never mind," Dale let it go. "Go on."

"Yeah well that's her name," Daryl shrugged. "She's got her a camp set up back from us. I told her to come over and meet everybody."

"What the hell for?" Shane cut in with a hard look. "We barely got enough to feed ourselves…"

"Didn't realize I had to ask permission Officer," Daryl snarled. "She ain't askin' for nothin'; what's the fuckin' problem?"

"The fuckin' problem is that she's probably not alone!"

"Yeah she is," Daryl wondered why he was lying. Sinclaire would just blow it when she showed up. "She's all by herself."

"We've been doing okay on supplies," Rick said in a moderate tone. "And it wouldn't hurt to add to the group. If that's what she wants."

"Well she oughta show up here at some point tomorrow; I reckon ya can ask her," Daryl took another bite of venison, his way of ending the conversation.

After supper he went to his tent…well it wasn't really his alone. He and Glenn shared because there weren't enough tents to go around. He was laying on his back with his arm over his eyes when the kid came in and sat down. He could feel him staring.

"Go ahead; ask me," Daryl sighed after a moment.

"What's she look like?"

"A woman."

"What kind of woman?"

"Hell, you'll see her tomorrow. You can wait."

"What color's her hair?"

Daryl propped onto his elbows and stared at Glenn.

"You fuckin' serious? It's been how long since ya seen a woman who ain't Lori, Andrea, or Carol and you're askin' about her damn hair?"

Glenn shrugged and said, "I was going to get you started and then go from there."

"Brown hair, brown eyes, kinda dark skin…nice rack."

"So you noticed that did you?" Glenn raised an eyebrow.

"Couldn't help it," Daryl said, and then for shock value, and the pleasure of bugging the kid, "She was underneath me."

"What?"

Hell yeah, it had been worth it. Glenn's jaw had dropped and his voice had fuckin' squeaked. Daryl laughed briefly and nodded.

"She fell offa the embankment. She landed on me; I thought she was a Walker, flipped her over…damn near killed her."

"Wow," Glenn sat silent for a long moment and then said, "Underneath you huh?"

"Yeah."

Daryl thought back about it. God she'd felt good there. It was stupid, but he'd really never had a woman in that position before and the memories of her curves and her softness against his body were…

"You must like her," Glenn said with a grin as he turned off the lamp, plunging the tent into darkness.

"Why ya say that?" Daryl asked.

"You're smiling like an idiot," Glenn informed him.

"Ya waited to say that till the damn light was off 'cause ya think I can't kick your ass in the dark," Daryl said. "Ya should know that ain't true."

"Okay, so not like an idiot," Glenn amended. "But you were smiling."

"Was not."

"Were so."

"Goddamnit, go to sleep," Daryl growled.

"Good night to you too," Glenn replied.

After a while Daryl heard Glenn's breathing deepen into the regular rhythm of sleep. Finally some quiet. He really took the time to think about the fact that his brother was alive for the first time. Not just alive, but really looking for him. It was sort of unbelievable. Daryl wondered cynically how much of Merle's motivation had simply been revenge. Maybe finding Daryl was just a by-product.

At the same time, he was so eager to see him that he actually half sat up, itching to pull on his boots and head to their camp. He forced himself to lie back down. For one thing, walking up on his brother's camp in the middle of the night was likely to get him shot and for another, he hadn't been totally honest with Sinclaire.

It wasn't just about protecting Rick and T. It was about protecting Merle. No one in the camp had ever been a real big fan of his brother and with everything that had recently happened he didn't want to add to the situation. Merle might not even get a chance to open his mouth before Shane or his new little protégé Andrea put a bullet in his brain.

Daryl sighed. He wasn't real great at nuances and balancing acts. He kind of wished he'd agreed to walk Sinclaire over. Maybe she was better at this sort of thing. Oh well, it was too late now. And he'd said he was going hunting…and he wasn't sure he wanted to face her again just yet with that whole "virgin" thing hanging over his head in bright neon thanks to his big brother. He planned to talk with the group after she left and then probably go check out their camp in the evening. Daylight would last long enough since it was still summer. One day wasn't long, but it was long enough. Of everyone who'd lost family, he'd be the first since Rick to get it back.