When Merle woke up, his head was killing him and his mouth was as dry as dust. He also had a feeling that something bad had happened and that was stupid because, hell, it was already a fucking apocalypse. What else could go wrong?

He reached out. Tiff wasn't there. Then it dawned on him. She was dead. Dead and buried and pretty damn unlikely to be layin' there beside him.

That wasn't the whole problem though. Something else nagged at him. He thought he had a fuzzy memory of Yank offering to stay with him. Maybe she was there and she could tell him what else he'd done. She usually didn't mind that.

"Yank?" he asked in a low voice.

Nothing. He forced his eyes open and looked across the room. The rest of the memory came back piece by piece. Well hell, no wonder she hadn't stuck around.

He sat up. Who else had he been an asshole to? Most of 'em didn't matter, but he thought he remembered...yeah. Daryl had come into his room while Yank was taking a bath. The memory of the conversation wasn't pleasant.

"The fuck ya want?" he'd asked when his brother had stepped into the room just barely giving him time to stuff the red box underneath his extra pair of jeans that were crumpled on the floor because Sinclaire hadn't thrown his laundry in with hers in a few weeks.

"Just wanted to check up on ya. Make sure yer all right."

"Fuckin' peachy. Get the hell out."

"No."

"Yeah."

"Goddamnit Merle! Talk to me!"

"About what?"

"The weather. What the hell do ya think?"

"Ya want me to talk about my feelin's with ya, baby brother?"

"If that's what ya need to do then yeah. Ya didn't have to do what ya did. Ya know I'd have done it for ya."

"Don't need yer help. Never have."

"Sometimes ya do and it's stupid to not admit it! I know what yer thinkin' and-"

"Ya ain't got no fuckin' clue what I'm thinkin'. If ya did ya wouldn't still be in here botherin' me when I want ya to get the fuck out!"

Daryl had glanced in the direction of the pile of clothes. Merle had glanced too; there was no sign of red, no way his brother could have known. Daryl sighed.

"Merle, I know it's hard but-"

"Ya don't know shit. How the hell would ya? Ya get some experience I don't know about in the last five or ten minutes?"

"This don't have nothin' to do with me. I'm tryin' to help-"

"And ya ain't never been real good at it. I ain't gonna say it again. Get the hell outta here."

"Fine." Daryl had turned around and then turned back. "Just...just don't...don't..."

"Ya got a point here?" Merle had drawled. "Or ya just gonna stand there and stutter?"

"Fuck you," Daryl had snarled before walking out.

Looking back on it now, Merle felt bad about the whole thing, but worse about that. Daryl had stuttered badly until about tenth grade and, until last night, Merle had never used it against him in a fight. They both knew it was their old man's fault. That bastard dying had cleared Daryl's stutter up pretty quick.

"Fuck," he muttered. Now he had to apologize to Yank and Daryl.

His mood didn't improve when he realized how early in the morning it was. He was one of the only ones up.

"Move it," he barked at Nate, who slept in front of the sink. "Thirsty."

Nate sat up and gave him an unfriendly stare. "I've been on watch all night long. Do you think that, just possibly, you could have stepped around me?"

"No."

It wasn't exactly a lie. He felt pretty dizzy; if he'd tried to step over Nate he'd have been more likely to step on him. It would have bothered Nate more than it bothered him, but in the end the hassle wouldn't be worth it. Not with a headache like he knew he was going to have in a little while. He grabbed one of the water bottles sitting in the sink and walked out of the bar.

"Where are you headed?" Rick asked from the back porch.

Goddamnit, did everybody have something to say today? He didn't bother to answer; it wasn't any of Rick's business where he was going anyway. He thought he could probably condense his apologies down to one sentence each; it was easier that way. "Shouldn't have brought up yer stutterin'." Well, hell, he'd have to get Daryl alone for that one or he'd kill him. Maybe he could just leave it at "Shouldn't have said what I said" and trust Daryl to understand the rest. He wasn't a complete idiot after all; they were related. Although what the hell he was gonna say to Sinclaire was still beyond him.

"Yank," he started under his breath as he pulled the truck door open. "What the hell?" He finished in a significantly louder voice.

Sinclaire and Daryl broke apart quickly and she scrambled for the blanket. Fast, but not fast enough. In the past he'd thought that she had nice tits, even if they were too small. He could see now that he'd been wrong. She had perfect, fit-right-in-the-palm-of-your-hand tits. And she'd apparently just fucked his brother. Or she'd just been about to. Maybe nothing had happened yet. He looked at Daryl. Shit. They had fucked.

"Merle," Sinclaire said. "I...you seem...um..."

"Goddamnit," he said emphatically before slamming the truck door as hard as he could.

"Well," Daryl said. "Good mornin' to ya too big brother."

"He's mad," Sinclaire said unnecessarily as she began pulling her pants on.

"He's always mad about somethin'," Daryl answered. "Not much we can do about it now is there?"

"Not unless you have a time machine you've never told me about."

"Hell, even if I did, I wouldn't go back and change the part where I finally get to have sex. Ya lookin' for this?" he tossed her bra over.

"Yes," she said distractedly. "Aren't you getting dressed?"

"Guess I might as well," Daryl said resignedly. "Plannin' to go talk to him?"

"I thought I would. Maybe now that he isn't..."

"Under the influence?"

"Yeah. Maybe he'll be more willing to talk."

"Good fuckin' luck."

"It's your optimism that makes you so attractive, you know that right?"

"Runs in the family. Have fun with my brother."
There was a hint of something in his voice that made her look twice at him as she pulled on her second layer.

"Bowhunter?"

"Yeah?"

"Come with me," she said, chickening out at the last minute. How crazy was it to assume that he was jealous? Jealous of what anyway?

"Hell no. Heard all I wanted to hear from him last night."

"You talked to him last night?"

"Yeah. Why do ya think I told ya it wasn't a good idea?"

"Because you're anti-social?"

"It don't count as anti-social when it's yer own family yer avoidin'."

"So you're just mad at him?"

"I ain't "just" mad at him. I'm mad at him for a damn good reason and I ain't in the mood to put up with his shit. If ya wanna talk to him then talk to him. I ain't gonna stop ya."

"Okay. I will. You don't have to be so sensitive about it."

"I am not sensitive!" he said as he pulled his shirt on.

"You sound like it. And hey! You didn't say ain't!"

"What?"

"You said "I am not sensitive" not "I ain't sensitive" Does this mean that I'm a good influence?" She asked as she put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his neck.

"It means I'm serious about this shit. And, if I'd've known grammar was that fuckin' important I'd've stopped sayin' ain't a long damn time ago."

"Proper grammar is very important," she began. She was unable to finish the thought because his lips covered hers. "But I guess there are other skills to make up for it," she finished several long moments later.

"Damn right. See ya later."

"See you."

She shoved the truck door up and stepped out. Merle was nowhere in sight, but she saw Rick on the porch.

"Have you seen..." she began.

"That way," Rick answered pointing to the woods. "But I don't recommend following him."

"Oh it's fine," she answered lightly. "I'm used to it."

Rick looked concerned, but he didn't try to stop her. She walked into the woods quickly, hoping to catch up before Merle got too far away. Looking back on it, that was the only aspect that went in her favor.

"Merle!" she called when she saw a flash of his jacket through the trees. "Merle!" She called again when he didn't stop.

"Jesus Christ what the fuck could ya possibly want?" he snapped when she caught up.

"Are you mad at me about last night?"

"Yes!"

"Well I'm sorry, but I don't think it's fair to ask me to cuddle up with you when you're high!" she said emphatically.

"That ain't what I'm mad about," he yelled.

"Oh." She paused in confusion. "then what are you mad about?"

"None of yer damn business."

"It's obviously my business. You're mad at me!"

"I can be mad at ya all I fuckin' want! Don't mean I have to tell ya why."

"I will punch you."

"Ya will not."

"Try me."

"Seems like my brother's already tried ya."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ya gonna try and tell me ya weren't fuckin' Daryl just now?"

"I actually wasn't fucking him just now," she stressed as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Ya know what I mean. Ya slept with my brother and ya might as well admit it!"

"I wasn't trying to hide it!"

"Yer goddamn right ya wasn't tryin' to hide it! What the hell's the matter with ya doin' shit like that in the middle of the day?"

"It's 6 in the morning! And what about you? I walked in on you and Tiff-" She cut herself off a few words too late. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought her up. Just forget I said anything."

"I ain't gonna forget ya said anything neither! Ya dig a grave fer my...my...Tiffany and then ya walk off and fuck my brother the same night? What the hell's wrong with ya?"

"You've been practically throwing your brother at me!"

"Not last night I wasn't!"

"What do you want from me?" she yelled in frustration.

"Nothin'! I don't want a damn thing from ya. Guess it's too fuckin' much to ask fer ya to just not fuck my brother fer one damn night!"

"There are a lot of nights that I don't fuck your brother!"

"Well why not last night?"

"Because you were high! Because you were a dick like you always are when you're high!"

"I had a rough day!" Merle shouted at the top of his voice.

"We all did! You think it was easy for any of us to watch them die?"

"Ya weren't sleepin' with none of 'em!"

"But you were!"

"An ya cared so much ya went and fucked my brother!"

"There is no point in arguing with you! You're...you're...fuck you Merle Dixon!"

"Right after ya got out from underneath Daryl?" he called at her retreating form. "Even I got higher standards than that."

Sinclaire didn't respond, but for the second time in less than 24 hours tears burned in her throat. That was entirely too much almost-crying for her tastes. She had to find something to do. She'd never missed her punching bag more than she did in that moment.

"Hi!" Marie said as she stomped back into camp. "Want to do some of that self defense stuff today?"

"It wouldn't be fair," Sinclaire snapped.

"Oh come on! I can handle myself just fine!"

"Not right now you couldn't."

"Turn out like I thought?" Daryl asked from the back of the truck where he was sitting with a can of fruit cocktail.

"Bite me Bowhunter."

He raised an eyebrow as she practically pushed him out of the truck and scrabbled through their stuff until she found the keys.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Library."

"And I guess I ain't goin'?"

"No. Nobody is going."

"Ya can't go by yerself," he said firmly.

The only thing she could come up with was, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered. "That'd be stupid considerin' what we just been through here. I know my brother's an asshole, but it ain't worth killin' yerself over."

"What makes you think this is about Merle?"

"Ya just came back from talkin' to him. Ya look like yer gonna cry-"

"I don't cry!"

"I didn't say ya was. Said ya look like it. Calm down."

Sinclaire knew in the back of her mind that he was right. It didn't change anything.

"Fine. You can come with me," she said ungraciously. "But if you so much as mention your brother you won't be having any more sex."

"Cuttin' me off?"

"I don't mean just with me. I mean ever."

"How about if I just keep my mouth shut?"

"It may be for the best."

"Wait!" Marie called. "I want to go too."

Sinclaire growled but she allowed her into the truck. Why the hell not? It was going to be a long day anyway.