"Well hell, honey," Merle answered. "Of everything that's happened I didn't think this would be the thing that'd make ya cry."

"Fuck you, Merle Dixon. I am not crying!"

It was a little bit longer before she took her hands away and when she did Merle saw that she was only telling half the truth. There were tears in her eyes, but none on her face. His respect for her ratcheted up a bit more; it nearly eclipsed his irritation that he would have to change his mind.

Because damn it, he thought she was right.

And just how the hell was he supposed to admit it without looking pussy whipped?

"Ya know why I even started travelin' with those S.O.B's?" he asked.

She shook her head and opened the back door, heading to the stream in hopes of getting a cold drink.

"It was 'cause I thought mine and Daryl's odds were better in a group," he explained. "And, ya know, I guess I kinda feel the same way about us. Me and you. Our odds are still better in a group."

Sinclaire's heart jumped with excitement, but all she said was, "And the bigger the group the better the odds right?"

"Right," he agreed in relief. She'd fell for it! "So maybe I'll just wait on the zombies to take care of 'em."

"Fitting punishment," she said with a smile his way, pulling the bucket up and checking the temperature of the water bottles.

Not super-cold because she hadn't left them under long enough, but chilly for sure.

"Hey it worked!"

"Fuck yeah it worked," Merle grabbed a bottle and pressed it to his forehead. "Daryl knows all about this shit. If you're gonna reproduce with him…"

"I was joking!"

"Whatever. You're done with me know that ya met him ain't ya? Ya played with my heart and now you're gonna fuck my brother…"

Sinclaire was happy to see that, even though his expression was severe, his eyes weren't. He was joking too. She'd missed this side of him.

"I just can't help it," she replied, tilting the water bottle and taking several long, cool swallows before she purred, "Inexperience is sooo fucking hot."

Merle laughed as he pulled one more water bottle from the bucket before sinking it again. As they walked up the hill, he pressed it to the back of her neck. She squealed and jerked away, giving him a mock dirty look.

"Ya got a damn sexy voice when ya wanna have one, Yank," he informed her.

"What? Yankee accent and all?" she teased.

"Reckon I'm used to it by now," he admitted.

It was nearly dark when Merle said, "Hey. Ya hear that?"

She listened and then nodded. "Is that Daryl's truck?"

"Think so."

A few minutes later an old truck pulled into the clearing and Daryl, Rick, T-dog, and Glenn got out. Everyone looked a bit nervous, but Daryl and Glenn were probably the most visually uncomfortable. Daryl kept fidgeting and Glenn was practically wringing his hands.

"I know you've got to be a bit of a dick to save face," Sinclaire muttered. "But take it easy on your brother and the kid."

"Yeah," Merle nodded. "He looks like he's gonna puke."

"He probably thinks you're going to kill him," she said. "Hi! Welcome to the bar!"

"Hi," Glenn squeaked out.

Merle crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the others.

"Took ya fuckin' long enough," he barked.

Daryl's shoulders hunched briefly, but Rick said, "We had to secure our own camp before we could leave."

"Leave your guard dog on watch?" Merle questioned.

"Yeah, Shane's watchin'," Daryl spoke quickly, before Merle could start throwing out information about wife-fucking. As far as Daryl knew, Rick didn't know and now wasn't the time to get into it. "And Andrea. She's got pretty good with a gun."

"I don't give a fuck if she's turned into Annie Oakley," Merle snarled.

Sinclaire rolled her eyes. If this was Merle's idea of taking it easy on his brother…or maybe it was. They weren't hitting each other at the moment.

"Jesus," Daryl protested. "I was just answerin' your fuckin' question."

Rick held up his hand and said, "We wanted to see you because…"

"I figure ya must wanna apologize," Merle cut in with a smirk.

Rick's jaw tightened, but T-dog said, "That's what I came for. I know you think I dropped that key to get back at you…"

"No," Merle interrupted. "I think you dropped that key 'cause you're a clumsy nigg…"

Sinclaire's boot caught Merle in the back of the leg and she gave him a big smile when he turned his glare on her.

"Clumsy," Merle said again. "And I think you're a pussy 'cause ya didn't stop to help me."

"I couldn't," T-dog said in a level voice. "We all had to be down there…they would have left me too. I panicked and I left you and I've had your blood on my hands this whole time."

Merle didn't know what to say to that.

"And we did come back for you," Glenn pointed out nervously. "We tried."

"Ya didn't try hard enough."

"Aw," Sinclaire said with a pout. "If they'd rescued you, we'd never have met. Isn't that worth a day on the roof?"

Daryl's mouth dropped open when his brother laughed and ruffled Sinclaire's hair, pushing her bangs into her eyes as she smacked his chest with her right hand.

"That's a pretty good point," Merle admitted. "I ended up with an Army Captain, a box truck and a fuckload of supplies. Worked out in my favor anyway."

He tossed the bottle of water to Daryl and Daryl caught it, numbly noticing that it was cold.

"Ya took my advice," he said.

"I took your advice," Sinclaire stressed. "I tend to be the brains of the operation. Even one handed, he's the muscle."

Daryl saw Merle grin down at Sinclaire. This was the brother he remembered before the drug addictions took over. It was weird seeing him again.

"Well…" Rick said, somewhat awkwardly. "Now that we've got that settled…"

"Settled my ass," Merle snarled. "Ya ain't invitin' us back? Ya wanna leave us out here by ourselves?"

"If you want to come back to our camp you can," Glenn answered quickly. "We just…you know…didn't think you'd want to…"

"Calm down," Daryl said in an undertone. "You're squeakin'."

"Sorry."

Daryl thumped Glenn on the back and shook his head.

"Anyway," Sinclaire said. "We'd have to pack up this camp before we could leave…and we've got Jack on ice…well, in river. What do you guys say to a cold drink before we hit the road?"

Daryl was already walking to the stream. Glenn was shaking his head emphatically, T-dog grinned while Rick patted the boy's shoulder and said he could be the DD. Sinclaire followed Daryl after a moment's hesitation. She figured she'd better leave Merle alone with the group and see how it went.

He was hauling the bucket back up by the time she got there. She sat on the edge of the river and looked up at him.

"So they're really okay with him coming back?" she asked.

"Ya think I'd let 'em trap him?" he snapped, irritated for some reason.

"No," she said coolly. "But you've had access to the entire group. I haven't. I want to know the general feelings of the people I'm going to be living with."

"Pretty much the only ones ain't okay with it is Lori and Shane. Lori's worried about Merle's grudge against Rick, can't blame her I guess," he jerked the lid off the bucket and pulled out the bottle of Jack, handed it to her and snapped the lid back down as he went on, "And Shane and Merle never liked each other."

"Alpha male syndrome," Sinclaire said with a nod.

"What?"

"They both seem like guys that like to be in charge…tell other people what to do. Guys like that never get along."

"Reckon so," Daryl agreed. "He seems to like you an awful lot though."

"I like him too," she answered.

Daryl shrugged and tugged her to her feet.

"They say there's somebody for everybody," he replied. "Let's drink."

Sinclaire was startled into silence by that comment. Did Daryl think that she and Merle were…

"Ya comin' Yank?" Merle called from the back porch of the bar.

"I'm getting there!" she called back in irritation.

Daryl poured and everyone (Glenn included after several whispered insults and challenges from Daryl) raised their glasses briefly before drinking. That one drink should have been the end of it, but…hell. Cold alcohol, a bar room, a group of people. No one objected to Sinclaire's second round, or Merle's third. Everyone laughed when the fourth round ended with Glenn's head on his folded arms on the bar top.

"He's gonna be real pissed in the morning," Daryl laughed.

"Now here's what," Merle slurred, putting his arm over Sinclaire's shoulders. "I don't know what your camp's like little brother…"

"Alcohol free," Daryl answered.

"And you've got no buildings," Sinclaire cut in enthusiastically. "And I bet Merle didn't find you guys a bathtub!"

"You're funny as hell when you're drunk," Daryl told her.

"I'm not drunk!" she gave him a smile. "I'm tipsy. Mildly inebriated possibly, but "You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on."

"Joe Lewis," Daryl nodded, pouring her another. When she raised her eyebrows he said, "A bartender is just a pharmacist with limited inventory."

"You and your fuckin' quotes," Merle grumbled.

They both shrugged.

"What are you getting at?" T-dog asked.

"Gettin' at the fact that I don't wanna move all my shit," Merle answered. "Why don't ya'll just come here?"

"We can set up the bar with separate rooms," Sinclaire said. "If we can find a home improvement store."

"Passed one on the way in," Daryl informed her, his eyes lighting up. "You're right. We could put up partitions and…he found ya a tub? In here?"

It had just occurred to his alcohol fuzzed mind that she'd mentioned a tub. Sinclaire nodded and patted Merle's left arm.

"My cleanliness is owed entirely to Merle Dixon," she said with a grin. "But the tub isn't hooked up to any plumbing or anything…"

"I can fix that," Daryl said.

"Ya know all about girls and their pipes don't ya little brother?" Merle drawled.

Sinclaire smacked Merle in the chest so hard that he coughed. No one else seemed to notice what Merle had said; Glenn was out like a light, Rick and T were talking about construction.

"That'd be nice of you," she said. Then she raised her voice over the general murmur and went on, "Now. I suggest that you all just stay the night because you seem to lack a designated driver…hey! Whose idea was it to get Glenn drunk?"

"Mine," Daryl finished his drink and shrugged. "He's funny as hell drunk too."

Glenn snored as if on cue and Rick laid the kid down on the floor so he wouldn't fall off the barstool.

"I guess we could sleep in here," Rick said. "Lori's gonna be mad though."

"Worried," Sinclaire corrected. "Men always think we're mad when we're worried. Goodnight. Well…" she glanced out at the sun. "Good afternoon."

She and Merle headed for the box truck. As they lay down Sinclaire enjoyed the gentle rocking motions being drunk produced. She thought Merle was asleep when suddenly he spoke.

"On second thought, maybe ya oughta make a pass or two my little brother's way."

"What? Why?"

"I don't like the way he jokes around with the chink."

Sinclaire giggled.

"It ain't funny! What if he's…ya know…"

"Gay?" she asked, repressing the next giggle in view of Merle's disturbed look. "I don't really think he is."

"Throw that sexy voice his way later on for me. Just so I can be sure."

"Merle Dixon for God's sake!"

"Come on! For me?"

"Fine. I will flirt with your brother when I'm not drunk anymore."

"Aw, you're a good sport Yank. I knew I could count on ya," Merle patted her shoulder and then dropped off to sleep.

Authors Note: I promise I haven't given in and put Sinclaire on the rose covered path with Daryl…Merle's just a little worried. Lol