Sinclaire woke up in an awkward position. She and Merle had, as always, stretched out in sleep. In doing so however, they'd collectively shoved Daryl into a corner of the truck. Apparently of the three of them, he was the only economical sleeper. He was curled into a ball and she was dismayed to discover her leg trapped between his. Sinclaire was so suddenly, fiercely panicked that she felt almost sick and, even though she didn't want to wake him, she jerked her leg free so quickly that he shot upright when she did.

She moved backward, away from the questions in his eyes, and bumped into Merle.

"What the fuck…" Merle began sleepily when he felt her body slam against his.

"There are too many damn people in this truck!" Sinclaire knew Daryl could tell she was scared and it was embarrassing; as always, she attempted to cover her embarrassment with an explosion of temper.

She yanked the door open and jumped out, stomping over to start the fire.

"She always this pissy in the mornin'?" Daryl asked, shoving both hands through his hair.

"Nah," Merle answered. "Maybe she just don't like ya."

"She likes me just fine," Daryl replied indignantly.

"How'd ya meet her anyway?" Merle had spent some time thinking about that last night in between plans to either make Daryl feel guilty or beat the shit out of him.

"She fell on me," Daryl said again.

"She fell on ya?"

"Yeah. She was runnin', ran off the hill, landed on me…we introduced ourselves…now I'm here."

"Ya are," Merle agreed. "I kinda thought ya'd be…a goner ya know?"

"Nah. Not me. Not you either. I fuckin' knew better. Always been smarter than you," Daryl gave his brother a hint of a grin.

Merle reached to punch him in the shoulder and then realized he'd have to switch hands. He did so, punched Daryl in the shoulder and then moved to get up.

"How long did it hurt?" Daryl asked.

"Still hurts," Merle barked out. "And I ain't got time to answer your fuckin' questions about it neither. I gotta piss."

He did not want to talk about his missing hand with his little brother. It was one thing to have Sinclaire understand that there were some things he just couldn't do because of it. She'd never known him with two hands. Daryl had.

Daryl watched him leave the truck. He figured he'd said the wrong thing…again. Well, hell, Merle had always claimed that he was too sensitive…maybe it was about time Merle had something to be sensitive about. Daryl stayed where he was, watching Sinclaire build the fire and start boiling some water. Merle came back from the edge of the woods and walked over, speaking to her briefly. She looked up at him and laughed. Why the hell was it so damn easy between Merle and Sinclaire? Fuck. Maybe she didn't like him.

"All right," Merle said, sitting on one of the logs he and Sinclaire had pulled up to the fire pit. "Let's have this out now."

"I can't do much without your extremely tight lipped brother," Sinclaire said. "It's up to him what he wants to tell you."

"Thought ya was on my side," Merle protested in surprise.

"I am unequivocally on your side," Sinclaire said as Daryl stepped up to the fire.

"Damn right," Daryl confirmed. "She's already threatened to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Who'd ya threaten?" Merle asked.

Fuck. Daryl had said too much.

"I met the rest of the group," Sinclaire said casually, hoping Merle wouldn't flip out.

It didn't work. He flipped out.

"Ya been seein' him behind my back ain't ya?"

It wasn't an accusation Sinclaire or Daryl expected. It wasn't an accusation Merle had really expected to make. Oh well, it was out now.

"Ya'll got some kinda Romeo and Juliet bullshit goin' on when you're both supposed to be on my side?" he went on.

Sinclaire laughed and muttered, "Wherefore art thou bow-hunter doesn't have the same ring to it for sure."

Merle glared at her. "And I bet that's why ya acted like such a bitch over me goin' with ya yesterday. Ya knew ya was meetin' up with him."

"That ain't true," Daryl said. "I was doin' my best to not meet up with her again."

"What the hell's wrong with her?" Merle turned the angry glance on his brother.

"Nothin'! I just…I wasn't…god damn it Merle!"

"All right. Maybe everyone could calm down," Sinclaire suggested.

The brothers ignored her.

"Ya sit your ass down and tell me the motherfuckin' truth right fuckin' now!" Merle bellowed.

"I wasn't not tellin' ya the truth!" Daryl defended himself. "Ya were yellin' at me for somethin' different last night…"

"Aw ya gonna cry?" Merle sneered. "Ya shoulda just said…"

"Said what?" Daryl yelled back. "Ya never fuckin' listen! Ya ain't listenin' now! I shoulda known better than to think ya mighta changed your mind…or that ya gave a damn about findin' me. All ya wanted to do was find them!" He spun around and walked off. Then he spun back around and said, "And I ain't gonna cry ya bastard."

"Yeah run off rather than deal with it," Merle called after his brother. "Just like always. That's what's fuckin' wrong with ya! Ya never fight for anything."

Daryl went still, facing away from Merle. He knew that the porch of The Last Chance was right in front of him but he couldn't see it through the red haze clouding his vision. Never fought for anything?

Sinclaire saw the tension practically radiating from Daryl. Merle didn't look concerned. She thought that Merle might not know his brother as well as he assumed…or maybe Daryl had changed in the month and a half they'd been apart. Either way, Merle was the one who looked shocked when Daryl turned back around deliberately.

Sinclaire closed her eyes briefly when the first punch landed. Then nothing other than morbid curiosity forced her eyes open again. She figured Merle was usually the winner of fights like this. They traded hits for a while; she pulled the now boiling water off the fire to let it cool so they could bottle it and then sat down on the log resting her chin in her hands.

She analyzed the fight clinically. Merle outweighed Daryl by a bit, but Daryl had two hands. Merle was obviously the better fighter, even though it was just as obvious that neither of them were trained in this sort of thing. Merle relied on strength; Daryl was faster. She resisted the impulse to cheer for particularly well done hits by either of them, like Daryl's hook to Merle's jaw and Merle's uppercut to Daryl's stomach. She figured that would be distracting.

The uppercut had an unexpected result for Merle. When Daryl doubled over to catch his breath he tackled Merle into the dirt. Merle punched him in the kidney and gained the upper hand for a second.

"Ya learned new moves," Merle grunted.

"Ya think life stopped just cause ya been gone?" Daryl raised his knee, catching his brother right between the legs.

"Fuck! Goddamn it," Merle rolled over, letting Daryl go. "Ya fuckin' pussy."

"Hell, ya do it to me every damn chance ya get," once Daryl was sure his brother wasn't going to move he relaxed, staying on the ground.

They lay next to each other, breathing raggedly. Daryl turned his head and spat blood from the split lip his brother had given him. Merle coughed and then groaned.

"What the fuck ya been doin'?" he asked. "That was a hit worth catchin' little brother."

Daryl laughed and sat up. He was just now aware of Sinclaire's gaze. She gave him a grin.

"I kinda thought ya'd stop us," Merle said as he sat as well.

"Why would I?" she shrugged. "I can't watch it on TV anymore that's for sure. And I figured you wouldn't hurt each other too badly."

"He broke my ribs once," Daryl informed her.

"Good God! Ya never gonna let that go?"

"Hurt like fuck," Daryl protested.

"So?" Sinclaire raised her eyebrows and tossed both of them a bottle of water. "With all that out of your system…are you ready to really talk about this?"

"Yeah I reckon so," Merle agreed, sitting down and taking a sip of water. "Tell me what ya know."

Daryl decided to let her handle the discussion; she was a smoother liar than him without question.

"Rick and T-dog want to talk to you," she began, holding up her hand when Merle snorted. "T-dog understands that he owes you an apology and, on your side or not, Merle you'll never make me believe that either T-dog or Rick left you there maliciously. But…that Shane guy…I don't like him, and I don't trust him."

"He's a real dick," Merle agreed.

"He's more than just a dick now," Daryl said. "I think he's losin' it. Rick's Lori's husband."

"The fuck?" Merle turned and stared at his brother.

"Yeah. Shane didn't take it real well when Rick came back…he lost this job as leader and his woman all at the same time. He ain't been real balanced lately," Daryl went on.

"Wait. Maybe you should tell me about it too," Sinclaire suggested.

Daryl filled her in on the fact that Shane and Lori had a bit of a relationship going when she'd thought her husband was dead. Then Rick had showed up out of the blue and sort of taken over.

"So Shane was banging his partner's woman pretty much the minute he thought the guy was dead?" Sinclaire mused. "Must have been going on before that."

"Why ya say that?" Merle asked in surprise.

"Because, contrary to what men may believe, the average woman's response to a terrifying situation isn't, "Oh please fuck my fears away you big strong man you!" Sinclaire informed them.

"And it's a damn shame," Merle said with a grin Sinclaire's way.

She shook her head, returning his grin before she said, "So? What's the plan?"

"Ya leavin' it up to me?" he was surprised.

She shrugged and said, "I want to hear your thoughts."

"I think I wanna kill 'em," he said.

Daryl sighed. Sinclaire simply looked at Merle with raised eyebrows.

"But I might change my mind," he went on. "After I talk to 'em. Ya said Rick and the nigg…T-dog…had somethin' to say to me?"

"Yeah," Daryl replied. "They both wanna talk to ya."

"Are you really going to listen?" Sinclaire asked. "I don't want to get them up here and have a fight."

"I'll listen till I get tired of it," Merle replied honestly.

"Okay," Sinclaire stood up. "We need to bottle the water and find a box we can sink it in the river in. Bow-hunter? You going to get Rick and T-dog?"

Daryl nodded and headed off in the opposite direction he'd come in from after a brief misstep, remembering Sinclaire's lie about his truck. He'd get back west a little later on.

"Why don't ya call him by his name?" Merle asked as they poured water into the empty bottles they kept for the purpose.

She shrugged and said, "I don't know. I think Daryl, I think actress and when I see him I think crossbow. Ergo…nickname."

"Ya didn't give me a nickname."

"You jealous?"

"Might be," Merle drawled. "I've had ya all to myself this whole time…"

"Well," Sinclaire smiled. "Your brother might be the smoothest talker I've ever met. He could sweep me off my feet at any minute you know."

Merle snorted and pushed Sinclaire in the shoulder. She'd only been crouched so the move sent her onto her ass in the dirt. She flung the water in the bottle into his face.

"Hey!"

"Oh come on! It's not cold," she protested.

"Damn right it ain't cold," Merle informed her. "That water's still hot."

"It's not hot!" she sat up, looking just a bit concerned; the bottle had felt warm…but certainly not hot…

Merle snatched the bottle and upended the rest of the contents onto her hair.

"Whatcha think, Yank?"

"Refreshing," she informed him wryly, wiping water from her eyes. "What do you think we could sink these in?"

"Sink?" he repeated.

"Yeah, like he was saying…"

"Oh," Merle glanced around, then went into the bar. At length he came back with a 5 gallon bucket. "This'll do."

They walked down to the river and filled the bucket with water and the water bottles, then attached a length of rope and sank the bucket, tying the other end to a tree.

"It'll be nice to have cold water," Sinclaire said. "I mean really cold, not just not boiling you know?"

Merle nodded and said, "Nice to have cold beer too."

He'd added several bottles of Bud and one of the few remaining bottles of Jack to the bucket as well.

"You know what I like about you Merle?" Sinclaire asked as they headed back up the embankment.

"What's that Yank?"

"You're always thinking."

She bumped him with her shoulder and he grinned down at her as he replied, "Damn straight honey."