"What the hell are ya doin' up so goddamn early?"

"Push-ups," Sinclaire answered. "Now is not the time to get soft and that's exactly what I'm doing. It's pathetic."

"Yer idea of pathetic's an awful lot different from mine," he grumbled. "Go do that shit somewhere else. All that heavy breathin's makin' me horney."

Since that wasn't her goal in the slightest, she headed outside. Daryl was sitting on the back porch. He wasn't smoking, he was just sitting. Now there was a genuine morning person.

"Mornin'," he said. "Coffee?"

"Coffee?" she repeated.

"Yeah, there was some in the kitchen stuff ya'll brought back. It's instant but it's better'n nothin'."

"I guess so. But I've got to do this thing…Merle kicked me out of the room 'cause I started doing push-ups."

Daryl gave her a grin and a nod as he confirmed, "Merle hates push-ups."

"I'm guessing you don't."

He shrugged as he answered, "Take 'em or leave 'em."

"Well…enjoy your coffee."

"Enjoy yer push-ups."

"You know it."

It went okay for the first time doing "real" exercise in over a month. She wished she had a sparring partner. She doubted Merle would let her beat up on him in front of everyone, and she hadn't forgotten the strange feeling of being underneath Daryl. She wasn't anxious to repeat something she didn't understand. Dale was too old; Carol and Lori didn't look the type…that only left Rick, Glenn, and Shane. Oh well, maybe it wasn't a great idea.

Merle was awake when she was done.

"Yer all sweaty," was his only comment.

"It happens when you do something other than drink and be sarcastic," she shot back.

"Yeah well…" Merle broke off when they heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel.

"Get the kids inside," Rick ordered. "Shane and Sinclaire you're with me. Daryl, Merle, cover us from the porch."

Everyone moved on his command. Sinclaire took a moment to respect his leadership skills. The SUV came to a stop. Rick's hand hovered over his holster. Shane and Sinclaire were less subtle. She drew both of her guns; Shane rested the shotgun on his shoulder.

A man exited the car. He was dressed in camo pants and a black tee shirt that molded to every muscle in his chest and stomach. He held his hands up.

"My name is Nathanial Spearman. I'm not here to hurt anyone. I'm looking for Rick Grimes, Sinclaire, Daryl, and Glenn."

"I'm Rick Grimes."

"And I'm Sinclaire Lewis. What do you…"

"I want to make sure you aren't going to shoot," he said. "We don't want to hurt anyone. Just wanted to get to know our neighbors, so to speak. I've got Carrie and Tiff with me…"

Sinclaire glanced to his left and saw Carrie wave from the passenger side window. She holstered the guns.

"So you just came to pay a social call?" she asked.

"I wanted to make sure you weren't a threat," he answered honestly. "You show up, you take supplies…you might have thought that the girls were on their own."

"Pretty brave of you to just show up on our turf though," Shane said.

"According to the girls there were only a few of you," he answered. "I could have handled that."

"The amount of supplies we took should have told you how many of us there were," Sinclaire said.

"I didn't exactly take inventory when we moved in," Nate said with a grin. "What branch?"

"Army. You?"

"Navy." She started to snort, but he wasn't done. "SEAL."

Oh.

"You can let them out of the car now," Rick said. "We won't hurt you."

Nate gave them a gesture and the women exited the vehicle.

"Hi!" Carrie said. "It's good to see people again! People who aren't them I mean."

She gave Nate and Tiffany a teasing smile. Rick said he'd go and tell the others that it was safe to come out. Shane walked away too, leaving Sinclaire alone with Nate.

"You aren't what I expected when I heard the name Sinclaire," he said.

"I get that a lot," she answered.

"So is it's just you and me?"

"What?"

"The only military?"

"Fuck no."

She was oddly relieved when Merle stepped up beside her.

"I was too. Just got sick of bein' pushed around by a bunch of jackasses."

"Uh-huh," Nate looked him up and down. "And what about you?"

"Me?"

She didn't know that Daryl had walked up too.

"No. I, uh…I'm a…I worked construction."

She felt sort of bad for him.

"I've recently learned the importance of a varied skill set in an apocalypse," she said. "He's the best hunter we've got."

"What do you hunt?" Carrie asked him, practically batting her eyelashes as she asked the question.

"Huh?"

Merle elbowed his brother so hard that he coughed. As Daryl gasped in a breath, Merle said, "Anything ya can imagine sweetheart. He keeps us all fed, don't he Yank?"

"Yep. Yes. He's…um, brilliant. With the hunting," Sinclaire said with a grin; it was really cute how desperate Merle was to get Daryl laid.

"I bet you are!" Carrie flipped her hair over her shoulder and touched Daryl's arm. "I bet you're just great at everything!"

Daryl looked warily at Merle to make sure he wasn't going to get hit again and said, "I don't know…"

It didn't take long for the group to head to the porch to talk, it was the South after all. Carrie never left Daryl's side, which Sinclaire thought was hilarious. Maybe there was someone for everyone. It certainly wasn't anything Daryl was doing. He was his normal "what is this species called woman?" self.

Nate sat on the porch steps beside Sinclaire.

"You've got a good little set-up here," he said.

"We do," she agreed. "We've all worked hard on it."

She wondered where Merle was. He'd rescued her every time Nate got too close and now he'd given up? A glance around informed her that he and Tiffany had walked down to the river. What the hell?

"It's hard to keep from checking up on them isn't it?" Nate remarked.

"Yes it is."

"Have you lost people?" he went on.

"Hasn't everyone?"

"I guess so. There were more people in our group when we got started."

"It was always just me and Merle," she said, relieved that he'd phrased it that way. "We were trying to find his brother."

"And?"

"And we did. Casanova over there," she pointed unsubtly at him.

"Ya talkin' about me?" he walked over quickly, glad for a reason to leave Carrie's side. Glenn was giving him dirty looks and he didn't want her anyway.

"Nate was asking if Merle found his brother."

"Yeah. That's me."

"It's amazing that you managed it," Nate said.

"It really was," Sinclaire agreed, scooting over as Merle and Tiffany came up, holding water bottles.

"I'm a damned amazing guy," Merle said, tousling Sinclaire's hair.

"Fuck you Merle Dixon, I'm the one who fell on him!"

Merle just laughed.

Sinclaire was surprised at how well everyone got along. She really liked all of them. Carrie was a little enthusiastic for her liking, but she was a good hearted person. Tiffany had an awesome dry sense of humor and Nate was…well, familiar. She was used to military guys and she liked him a lot.

Near dusk Nate stood and said, "Been fun, but we'd better get back before dark."

"Drop by anytime," Rick said.

"Oh that'd be fun!" Carrie gave Daryl a smile.

Merle kicked him and he gave a reflexive "Yeah."

Once the SUV drove away, and the group dissipated, Merle looked at Daryl.

"Swear to God boy! I don't know what you think sex is like, but I swear ya'd like it if ya did it!"

"So I'm supposed to wanna fuck girls I don't even know?"

"Yeah!"

"Now come on, Merle," Sinclaire said. "Bow hunter has standards, that's all."

"Yer just jealous cause I spent all that time with Tiffany."

"Jealous?" she asked in genuine surprise.

Merle grinned, considering his work there done. Daryl and Sinclaire both looked like they wanted to hit him. He headed inside for supper before either of them could act on it.

"Jackass," Daryl muttered. "She'd be too young for me even if I wanted her."

"How old is she?" Sinclaire asked distractedly. Was she jealous of Merle? It had been odd to see him down by the river with Tiffany…and now if she asked him he'd mess with her about it. Damn that bastard!

"Ya even listenin?" Daryl asked.

"Oh. Sure. You said she's um…"

"20," he said dryly. "And I'm 35."

"That's not too bad actually. What's the male version of a cougar?"

"Blow me."

"All that would do is make your brother happy."

Daryl laughed.

"Well, ya just let me know if Merle ever needs cheerin' up."

Her mouth dropped open and he cleared his throat, glancing down at his boots.

"You!" Glenn came out onto the porch and pointed at Daryl. "You want to tell me just how you managed to get the attention of the one girl my age left in the world?"

"Hell I didn't do it on purpose! She fuckin' latched on!"

"It's got to be the sleeveless shirt factor," Sinclaire said, relieved to have someone else to talk to. "You have sleeves, he doesn't…"

Glenn glanced at his baseball shirt doubtfully.

"What the hell good would it do him to take the sleeves off?" Merle asked from just inside the bar. "He's got stringbean arms."

"I do not!"

Merle grinned. Sinclaire saw an opportunity.

"Well, I wouldn't say stringbean arms…but if you ever want to tone up…I could use a sparring partner."

"Ya didn't ask me."

She had to hide a smile at Merle's renewal of his possessive tone.

"You don't want me beating you up in front of everybody."

He snorted.

"We ain't had a real fight since a couple days after I lost my hand. I was dehydrated and comin' down. Don't count."

"You had a real fight?" Glenn cut in, looking shocked.

"Yep," Sinclaire answered. "It was only a minor disagreement."

"And ya won?" Daryl asked.

"Damn straight," she replied, borrowing one of Merle's phrases.

"And what about my little brother?" Merle drawled. "Ya ain't willin' to spar with him?"

Damn it. She shrugged casually and said, "Whatever."

"So you could teach me how to fight?" Glenn asked. "Really fight? Did you learn in the Army?"

"Sort of," she said, happy that the subject had changed. "I've been taking kickboxing lessons since I was eleven though."

"Awesome!"

Glenn talked her ear off for the rest of the night, so Merle didn't have another chance to tease Sinclaire or Daryl about sex, or the lack thereof.

Sinclaire lay down that night determined to go right to sleep. That determination lasted about five seconds.

"You like Tiffany don't you?"

"Parts of her," Merle agreed.

"Oh for God's sake! She seems really nice and funny and…"

"No matter how good they look someone, somewhere's sick of their shit," Merle cut in.

"I don't know…maybe the guy who's sick of her shit is dead," she replied. "You could be the new guy sick of her shit."

"Eh," Merle shrugged. "Ya worried about it?"

"You accused me of being jealous!"

"Ya sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"Fine."

"Fine."

She flopped over onto her back and threw her arm over her eyes. Merle blew out the lamp.

"But if ya are…better let me know. I'm damn near irresistible to most women."

"Fuck you."

"See? Irresistible."

"Shut up and go to sleep," Daryl grumbled from the other side of the partition.

Sinclaire decided that was excellent advice.