"Found somethin' you're gonna like," Merle said that morning as they waited for some water to boil.

"Oh yeah?" Sinclaire smiled at him and he nodded back.

"Come on, I'll show ya."

He led the way back to the Last Chance and opened the door.

"I think it's a little early for drinking."

"First thing, it ain't somethin' to drink. Second thing, that's a Yankee attitude if I ever heard one. Never too early for drinkin'."

He opened the door to another room in the bar and pointed. There was a bathtub sitting in the middle of the floor. Sinclaire laughed.

"Why is there a tub?"

"Why not?" Merle questioned.

"It's not even hooked up to any plumbing," she pointed out. "Is this another Southern thing?"

"Probably," he admitted. "It was probably for drinks…fill it with ice and Bud…but the point is, it's watertight which means you can take a bath."

"I can take a bath!" Sinclaire's face lit up. "Merle Dixon, you're my hero!"

She'd put on her horrible southern accent again and he punched her lightly in the arm.

"Now that I been so nice to ya," he said, "What you gonna do for me?"

"I'll make your breakfast."

Intrigued, he followed her back out. Sinclaire made a big show of opening an MRE and handing it to him with a flourish.

"See how much I care Merle? I opened it and everything. Just because you're so good to me."

"Smartass Yank."

Sinclaire and Merle had a leisurely breakfast and then he nearly gave her a heart attack by volunteering to come with her west, instead of going east on his own.

"You don't trust me to scout do you?" she asked.

"It ain't that," he began.

"Yeah right. You think that because I'm a woman I won't do a good job! You still don't trust me!"

Several minutes of that, including interrupting every sentence he started earned her the result she wanted.

"Christ almighty! Go by your damn self then! If ya get bit I don't wanna hear a fuckin' thing about it when I have to put a bullet in your brain!"

He stomped off, still muttering. She grinned to herself briefly. He'd be over it by nightfall, and she had recon to do. She'd bring back a rabbit to soothe his temper or something.

She checked her vest for ammo and then set out west. She wished Daryl had done more than vaguely point west, but the dye was cast on that, so she walked on hopefully. She'd gotten such a late start that she figured they thought she wasn't going to show up.

Sinclaire was wondering what Daryl had told them about Merle when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Zombie or rabbit?

Daryl walked along, thinking that Sinclaire ought to be at camp by now. It shouldn't be too hard to stay out until she would be headed back to her own camp…

"Pssst! Bow-hunter!"

He glanced toward the sound; she was sliding down the embankment and giving him a smile.

"Ya got a fuckin' late start," he informed her.

"Are you going hunting?" she asked, rather than addressing his comment.

"Yeah."

"I think I'll go with you," Sinclaire gave him another smile.

"But I don't…I don't think ya really wanna…"

"Sure I do. If I don't bring back some game, your big brother's going to be mad at me."

They walked deeper into the woods quietly for a while and then she got up her nerve and said, "I wanted to tell you something."

"Yeah?" he kept his gaze on the ground, but then she stopped so he had to turn and look at her.

"I shouldn't have said what I said," she admitted. "I'm sure it was embarrassing and…"

"I know how Merle talks about me when I'm not around," Daryl cut in. This was the last thing in the world he wanted to talk about with her.

"Well, still. I shouldn't have…you know…called you out like that. If it makes you feel better I said it with incredulity."

"With what?" he stared at her.

"I didn't believe it was true."

"Ya don't?"

The relief that covered his features erased all traces of doubt actually, but Sinclaire just shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Nah."

Maybe there was a God. Daryl actually found himself smiling again. They walked along in silence, Daryl's relieved, Sinclaire's mildly amused.

"I'm thinkin' I might walk back over with ya," Daryl said a while later.

"Concerned for my safety?" she asked with a sideways smile.

"No. Not…no…there's more to it than that," Daryl scowled when her grin only got wider. "How fuckin' long has my brother had to put up with you?"

"A little more than a month," she answered. "And he's used to me by now. I've got my charms."

Daryl figured she had a few that Merle was interested in, and they sure as fuck weren't her eyes and smile.

"So?" she asked again. "Why the sudden urge to be chivalrous?"

"I wanna see my brother," he answered. "That shouldn't be too hard to understand."

She shrugged. "You didn't see so eager yesterday."

"I was thinkin'," he snarled. "I have to ask how high when ya say jump."

All she did was shrug again. Further silence dragged on. Daryl scratched a mosquito bite on the back of his neck and wondered what he should say. What did she and Merle talk about?

"Something smells good," Sinclaire said suddenly.

Daryl sniffed and said, "Muscadines."

"What's that?"

"Where ya from that ya don't know that?" Daryl suddenly realized that she lacked the southern accent everyone else in the group had.

"Pennsylvania," she answered. "Now that's a big difference between you and Merle. He picked up on my accent right away."

"Merle hates Yankees," Daryl informed her as he scanned the landscape, looking for the muscadine vines. He wanted a muscadine almost as much as he wanted to watch Sinclaire eat one for the first time.

"Is there anybody Merle likes? I mean right away?"

"Guys with bikes," Daryl replied, finally locating the vines and beckoning her to follow him up the small embankment. "They would be growin' in the hardest place around here to reach," she heard him mutter under his breath.

"So that's it? Guys with bikes?" Sinclaire scrambled up after him eagerly. The good smell was stronger here and she saw what looked like large black grapes dangling from vines all over the oak tree Daryl stood by. Her mouth watered and she swallowed hard at the wonderful thought of eating something that wasn't an MRE.

"Hookers," Daryl answered, reaching up and tugging a bunch of muscadines down. If Merle was gonna run his mouth about peoples sex lives, Daryl figured he'd return the favor.

Sinclaire laughed and said, "Yeah he told me about that."

She could tell that had surprised him, but all he did was pull the largest muscadine off the stem and pop it into his mouth. He tugged another off and tossed it to her. Sinclaire popped it between her lips and bit down.

Daryl grinned when her face contorted and she spat, gasping, "What the…it's…it's like a mouthful of snot!"

He casually spit out the seeds and the skin of the fruit as he swallowed the rest.

"Takes some gettin' used to," he admitted.

"You're an evil man."

He only put another muscadine in his mouth and raised his eyebrows. She held her hand out with a sigh. He put another muscadine into her palm and watched as she ate it determinedly.

"At least it tastes good," she said grudgingly after a moment.

"Yeah. They make wine with 'em," he told her. "Ya got anything we could put 'em in? Thought I might bring some back…the kids oughta like 'em."

"There're kids?"

"Yeah. Rick and Lori's boy Carl and Carol's daughter Sophia. Ain't kids supposed have fruit every day?"

"Everybody is," Sinclaire answered.

"Ain't kids supposed to have more?"

She shrugged and he looked at her in disbelief.

"I don't have kids!" she defended herself. "You Dixon's certainly have a fairly set view of womanhood."

"Merle give ya his speech about a woman's place?" Daryl asked with a half grin as she handed him a medium sized drawstring bag from a pocket in her vest.

"He tried," she admitted stretching up and pulling some of the muscadines down. "We had an argument."

"How much luck did ya have with that?"

"We agreed to disagree," she said with a reminiscent smile. Anyone would have said she was crazy, but she'd thoroughly enjoyed that fight. "Part of our "never go to bed angry" clause."

"Ya got Merle to agree to never go to bed angry?" Daryl was in shock.

She shrugged, "Agree…put up with…same thing. Actually I shouldn't have made the deal because it just means that we have to fight all night. He wins more when I'm tired and the bastard knows it."

"Ya'll really get along?" Daryl concentrated on the vines, twisting them free of briars so he could reach more fruit.

It sure sounded like she got along with Merle better than he ever had. Maybe better than anyone had. It would sure as hell prove that theory about there being someone for everyone.

"For the most part," she confirmed. "Nobody gets along all the time."

"Especially not with Merle," Daryl muttered to himself.

"And what about you?" Sinclaire asked. "What kind of people do you like?"

"I don't like people," he replied automatically.

"You must be having the time of your life."

"I wouldn't put it like that," he went on. "But I'd like the quiet if it wasn't for the damn Walkers."

Sinclaire figured that was his way of suggesting that she shut up, so they finished filling the bag in silence. The quiet began to grate on Daryl's nerves. He'd gotten so used to the others in his group that he'd forgotten how it felt to have to get to know someone. Not that he'd ever been comfortable with it in the first place.

"I piss ya off or somethin'?" he asked as she slung the bag over her shoulder.

"No," Sinclaire answered, honestly confused. "Why would you think so?"

"Ya got all quiet," he shrugged. "I figured…"

"No," she repeated. "I assumed you wanted the quiet. Believe me, if you pissed me off you'd know it. Are we going back to your camp now?"

"I'm supposed to be huntin'," he hedged.

"You did," she grinned at him. "You hunted berries."

Daryl couldn't keep from returning the smile, even though he kept it as small and short as possible. He walked back down the embankment and then turned, holding his hand up for her.

She raised her eyebrows and he made his voice impatient as he said, "Just don't want ya fallin' on me again."

"The greater tragedy would be that I would squish all the snot-grapes," she said taking his hand and jumping down.

Daryl choked back a laugh.

"Oh come on," she said. "I'm funny as hell, so you might as well get used to it."

"I didn't tell 'em about Merle," he admitted abruptly. "Just told 'em about you."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I just thought it might sound better coming from you."

"Well…" she didn't say it out loud, but she thought he was probably right, especially if his temper was as quick as Merle's. "Tell me about them. And try to be as honest as you can."

"Ya think I'm a liar?"

Yep, his temper was just as quick.

"I didn't say that. It's just that all the intel I have comes from Merle, who is quite understandably biased. And," she went on when Daryl started to say something. "I'm more inclined to believe that he's a little biased because you're still with the group. If they were the insufferable dickheads he claims they are, I'm assuming you would have cut out by now."

She had cut down all his objections in about three sentences.

"All right," he said grudgingly, "Rick Grimes is kinda the man in charge…"

Daryl told her about the group as they walked and she listened intently. Any information could turn out to provide her with an advantage. When they were within sight of the camp, Daryl took a breath and said, "Good luck."

"It'll be fine," Sinclaire said confidently.

Daryl let her walk just a bit ahead of him and watched her confident entry into the camp. Activity stopped gradually as the others became aware of her. A man in a sheriff's hat and another man with a shaved head approached.

"I'm…" the man in the hat began.

"Rick Grimes," she said holding her hand out. "And you must be Shane Walsh."

"This is Sinclaire Lewis," Daryl said, "The one I told ya'll about."

"Well, it sure is nice to meet another survivor," Rick gave her a smile.

The other man just appraised her with insolent dark eyes; she held his gaze until something flickered in his and then she returned Rick's smile and agreed that it was nice indeed.

"I need to talk to you all about something serious," she said abruptly.

"First thing I'd like to know is why you bothered with our little camp at all," Shane ignored her request.

"What I have to say will answer your question," she replied, barely meeting his glance. "But I'll be damned if you get a sneak preview. I definitely need to see you, Rick, and I'll need T-Dog and Daryl. The rest of the group is at your discretion…I don't mind if everyone sits in, but we're going to have a reasonable discussion. You tell me who you think can participate in one and then we'll meet over there."

She pointed to a nearby stand of trees and then walked off.

"Who the fuck does she think she is?" Shane asked. "You are not having this meeting without me, Rick."

"If you want to join in, you're more than welcome," Rick answered. "It must be pretty serious."

In the end, the meeting was everyone but Lori, Carol and the kids, which Sinclaire had pretty much expected. They'd traveled together this whole time; they were likely as committed to each other as she was to Merle.

"Daryl told you I was traveling alone," she began. "That's not true."

"You lied?" Shane fixed an accusatory look on Daryl.

"Fuck…" Daryl began.

"I wasn't done," Sinclaire cut in sharply. "Are you interested in hearing me or not?"

"Yes," Rick said after a moment and a quelling look at Shane who snorted softly.

"I'm only travelling with one other person and the person I'm with doesn't know about you. I am currently camping about 5 and a half miles from you with Merle Dixon."

The silence that followed the sentence was a little anticlimactic. So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. She and Daryl were just exchanging a look when Shane lost it.

"Are you fucking crazy?" he asked in a near yell. "He never was exactly balanced and now you brought your crazy brother right back to us? I'm surprised some of us lasted the night before I had to kill him!"

"Hey! Ya ain't gonna fuckin' raise a hand to my brother," Daryl jumped to his feet, facing Shane.

"I said he doesn't know about you," Sinclaire made her voice calm, a studied contrast to Daryl's yell. "Weren't you paying attention?"

"He'll know as soon as he walks up into your camp," Shane pointed at Daryl. "And then he'll be down here for them. Hell, probably for everybody!"

"I wouldn't let him hurt you," Sinclaire said.

Shane laughed and went on, "And just how are you going to stop him? Huh? What are you going to do? Bat your eyelashes and ask your boyfriend oh so nicely to please forgive us for leaving him to die? Or are you going to try to tell us he's a changed man who wouldn't hurt a fly?"

Everyone in the group was surprised by Sinclaire's reaction. She laughed. She laughed until she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

"Merle Dixon? A changed man?" she asked when she could finally manage words. "No. No, not by a long shot. He still hates you. That's why we weren't stupid enough to just tell him to come on over. Reintegration would be slow and you guys would have to be on your best behavior…an apology wouldn't hurt."

Shane snorted again, but T-Dog said, "I owe him one. That's why I went back."

"And I know there's more to it than what Merle has told me," Sinclaire raised her eyebrows at T-Dog. "But just so you all know…if it comes down to sides, I'm on his. Not because I'm a racist bitch, because I'm not. And not because he's my boyfriend, because he's not," she leveled her gaze on Shane briefly. "But because we've been together this whole time and he's saved my life more times than I can count. Also, though he's far from being a changed man, he is a sober one so that's something for you to think about. And finally, just so there's no confusion…I'm a Captain in the United States Army. I can and will kill anyone or anything that gets near my camp without permission. I shoot first and ask questions later; it's a big part of the reason I'm still alive."

She let the group digest the information in silence and then said, "It was good to meet you all. I'm going to head back to my own camp now. You coming?"

The question was directed at Daryl, who nodded silently.

"Wait," Glenn spoke up. "Are you sure he'll be…you know…safe? Or what if Merle follows him back?"

"Merle wouldn't hurt me," Daryl scoffed, hoping to God it was true. "And I reckon Sinclaire can manage to keep him from followin' me back."

She nodded confidently and added, "We're figuring out his feelings for your whole group. I know him pretty well…Daryl knows him best of all. If he's not going to be safe, then I'll see what I can do to convince him to maybe move on. Or I'll let you know that you should pull up camp and move along yourselves."

"We were here first," Shane crossed his arms.

"American history should prove exactly how much weight that statement holds," Sinclaire replied sarcastically. "I want to head out before dark. If I'm welcome, maybe I'll come back sometime and let you know how things are going?" she directed the question to Rick who nodded.

"We'd love to have you. I might like to go up and talk to Merle myself one day. Maybe you can let me know how it goes?" he asked Daryl.

Daryl jerked his chin in a short nod, handed Rick the bag of muscadines and then he and Sinclaire headed off into the woods again.

A/N: This chapter was a bit Daryl heavy…not that I don't enjoy writing about him! But, I promise this isn't going to turn into just another Daryl story. Merle is still the main character, I swear lol