I feel like I'm in a daze. Somehow, I end up in the car's passenger side and Rick shuts the door behind me. The others pile into the car, including Michonne, and I think bitterly that we didn't need more space after all: no Oscar, no Daryl, the same amount coming back as what left.

It's tense in the car and I keep reaching up to wipe straggling tears away, not wanting to subject the others to my grief any more than I already have.

We don't get far when Rick has to stop the car. A big red truck and a fallen tree block the road and Rick climbs out without a word. Maggie, Glenn, and I follow. Michonne stays put.

Rick walks to the hood. "Get the brakes."

Glenn nods and shuffles to the driver's side door. The second he opens it, a walker lunges out at him, but he doesn't flinch as he grabs it by the collar and slams it onto the asphalt. Rick and Maggie get their guns out, but Glenn's already taking care of it, slamming his foot into the walker's head over and over and over again.

Even once its head splits, he keeps stomping, teeth bared, angrier and angrier with every motion. He brings his foot down once more, grinding his heel against the shell of brains and blood beneath him, then grips his side as he stumbles away. Rick follows him and Maggie goes around the back of the truck while I release the brakes.

"You didn't kill him," Glenn says to Rick, still panting a little.

"That's not why we went back," Rick says.

"No. That's right. You went back for Daryl," Glenn says. "And now he's gone and the Governor is still alive." He spits the word like a slur, lip curled with disgust.

"Daryl and Hope were the priority."

"I should have been there with you."

"You were in no condition!"

"But my girlfriend was?"

"Glenn, this isn't about us," Maggie says.

"I should have been there!" Glenn seethes.

"Hey, hey, you didn't come back with us 'cause you could barely walk!" Rick retorts.

"What about her?" Glenn demands, pointing at Maggie.

"What about me?" Maggie retorts.

"Do you know what he did to her?!"

"LEAVE IT ALONE!"

"DO YOU KNOW?!"

Rick holds his hand up at Glenn but looks back at Maggie, and I just stand by the driver's door in a half-daze. I'm not blind. I knew there had to be a reason why Maggie was wearing Glenn's shirt when we found them and it makes me sick.

"Let's go," Maggie snaps, but there's a catch in her voice that I don't miss. She grips the back of the truck with trembling hands.

Glenn takes sharp, rage-filled breaths, turning away from her and looking back down the road. Finally, he turns back to Rick, lips pursed in a heavy frown.

"After all that effort, all the risk we took, Daryl just takes off with Merle?" he says.

"We didn't give him a choice," I cut in, arms crossed over my chest.

"We gave him a choice!" Glenn retorts, pointing at me. "And he chose Merle over us! He chose Merle over you!"

I stiffen.

"Glenn, stop it!" Maggie says.

"He had his reasons," Rick says evenly.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Rick," Glenn spits. "Doesn't change the fact that we're up to our necks in shit!"

"You want me to turn the car around, beg him to come back?" Rick asks. "Throw down a welcome mat for Merle? This is the hand we've been dealt!"

I can't take this anymore. I go back to the Tuscon, moving quickly and quietly. I released the brakes. I did something. I put myself back in the passenger seat, drawing my knees to my chest. I know Michonne's still in the backseat, so I just try to keep quiet even though I want to cry all over again and, to her credit, she doesn't comment.

I take a long, deep breath and unfurl myself. I smooth my shirt, buckle myself in, and bite back everything that wants to come out. I can lose it again when we're back at the prison and I can give myself a good long cry into my pillow.

----------

We have a long, silent ride back. Carol and Carl stand by the gates and they run to open them as we pull up. Rick stops the car between the two gates, telling Maggie to drive the car up as he gets out and reunites with Carl with a hug.

Maggie climbs over and into the driver's seat. Carol is already looking in the windows and I turn my face away, pressing my fist to my mouth as Maggie drives the rest of the way up to the prison.

I get out as soon as the car is parked. I grab my medical bag from the trunk, swing it over my shoulder, and powerwalk to the cell block.

Four new people sit in our dining area and they look up when I come in. There's a large black man with a beanie and a thick beard, a woman with a small fro of coily black curls, a brunette white man and a white teenage boy with black hair.

The first two stand when they see me, giving each other a brief look, and I exhale. I don't have any energy left after being awake all night. Everything in me is exhausted.

"Rick will be in soon," I say. "He'll talk to you."

"Oh, but we—" the man starts.

"Please," I say. "I'm sorry. I can't talk right now."

Thankfully, the cell block door is unlocked and I close it behind me. I go up the stairs, into my cell, and throw my bag aside before collapsing onto my mattress. I think I could stay like this, limp, lying here until I meld into the blankets.

I sniffle and dig my face into my pillow, more tears squeezing out. I'll cry myself empty and then I'll never shed a tear for Daryl Dixon again.

I remember the box under my bed, found only a short while ago, and I reach down and pull it out as I roll onto my back. I hold it above my head, staring at it, my heart pounding. I want to be grateful that at least I didn't go that far with him, but regret stings me in the worst way because it doesn't matter. I still gave more of myself to him than anyone else and all my fears were correct. I could've fucked him all I wanted, for all my heart cares—the hurt feels the same.

He's gone and he has a piece of me I'll never get back.

"Fuck you," I mutter to the condoms before throwing them against my wall.

I want to take my anger out on them and tear them apart, but that would be a waste of something precious. Hell, maybe Glenn and Maggie need them. It's cathartic to swear and throw things and deep inside, I want to throw more, maybe scream and break something.

The outer part, the stronger part, keeps lying on the bed, too weighed down with everything to move. I'm angry but I'm sad and I'm hurt and there are way too many feelings to handle at once, so I close my eyes against frustrated tears and let myself feel it.

I hear footsteps and, when I reopen my eyes, Carol stands at my cell door, lips pursed as she leans against the wall. I hastily wipe my face.

"Come on," she says.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because wallowing isn't going to help. He wouldn't want that for you."

He should've thought about that before he broke up with me, I think.

I scoff. It feels like an impossible task to get up and move. After a moment, Carol comes into the cell and squats beside me, making her level with my face. She raises an eyebrow at me and it's so parental that it makes my chest squeeze. I miss my mom.

"You're not the only one who's upset that he's gone," she murmurs.

I know that. Of course, I know that. My lip trembles and I purse them tightly for a moment before I take a shaky breath. "I don't..." Another breath. "I don't think he...he ever loved me."

"That's not true."

"He never said it. I told myself that I was fine, that it...that it didn't matter, but—"

"I know he did," she insists.

"How?"

She purses her lips a little. "Men like him...they're men of action, not words."

Her words don't stop the devil on my shoulder from working her magic. It was so easy for him to pick Merle, to decide to leave. I can't even be angry that he would choose Merle, because his brother is back from the dead and I get it, I do. I don't know what I'd do if my parents showed up, living and breathing, and asked me to come home. I'm far more upset that he left me behind and he didn't let me go with him. He didn't want me there. He made that clear enough.

Carol grips my shoulder, giving me a shake. "Come on, I've been fixing up Judith's crib and I think she would like a lullaby."

I blink. "Judith?" I repeat. "Is that lil ass-kicker?"

"Seems Rick and Carl decided on a proper name," she says. My lip twitches a little, the biggest smile I can manage, and she squeezes my arm again. "Think you've got a song in there somewhere?"

"You should ask Beth," I mumble.

I don't think I could sing anything that a baby would want to fall asleep to. My head is full of angry rock anthems and heartbroken ballads that clash with one another spectacularly. She gives me another long look, more sympathetic this time, and I sigh as I force myself to sit up.

"Fine, but I do need sleep," I say, pointing at her. "I was up all night."

"Of course," she says.

We've barely left my cell when Beth comes up the stairs, bouncing Judith gently in her arms. The baby fusses a bit, tiny fists waving.

"You've got a knack for that," Carol comments as we meet Beth on the perch. Daryl's mattress has already been pushed aside, his few abandoned belongings piled on top. My heart clenches all over again.

"Just trying to do my part," Beth replies.

Carol lifts the food crate we've been using as a crib, wiping down the inside with a cloth. Daryl's handwriting marks the side, bold capital letters reading "ASSKICKER." Beth wrote the "Lil" above it in curly, cutesy script, and she doodled stars and hearts and a smiley face around the name. I gaze at it for a little too long.

"Sophia used to wake the neighbours," Carol says. "Three a.m. Like clockwork. Ed stayed at a friend's most nights 'til she calmed down."

It's been a while since I've heard her mention Ed, but Carol's face is composed. I refold the blankets we've lined the crate with as she speaks.

Beth smiles and looks down at Judith. "I always wanted a child," she admits. Her smile falls. "She wouldn't have made it if Daryl hadn't been here. He couldn't stand to lose anyone else."

It's like another gut punch. With how things move sometimes, it's easy to forget that Lori and T-Dog died not too long ago, and now we've lost Oscar and Daryl's gone. Every day, our group gets smaller.

"Sounds like him," Carol murmurs.

"I don't see why he had to leave," Beth says. She looks at me briefly. "Merle sounds like a jerk."

"Men like Merle get into your head," Carol says. "Make you feel like you deserve the abuse."

"Even for Daryl?"

You deserve better than me, he said, like even after all these months together, he can't get over that hurdle that tells him that he's nothing to nobody. I wish my words of love could've erased his scars. I wish he believed the words I got to say.

"I'm hardly the woman I was a year ago," Carol says, "but if Ed walked through that door right now, breathing, and told me to go with him, I'd like to think I'd tell him to go to hell."

"You would," Beth says.

Carol sets her cleaning cloth down. "It doesn't matter." I hand her the other blankets.

"We're weak without him," Beth says.

"We'll get through this, too," Carol replies. "Tyreese and his friends seem capable."

Tyreese must be one of the people outside, probably one of the older men, and even more likely the one who tried to speak to me when I came in. He seemed like the leader.

Beth's lips purse tightly. "I'm pissed at him for leaving," she says.

"Don't be," Carol urges as Judith starts to coo and fuss again. "Daryl has his code. This world needs men like that." She smiles and she reaches for Judith just as the baby starts to cry, but a few gentle words calms her right back down. Carol lays her down in her crate. "There," she says, tucking Judith in. "You cozy in there?"

She steps away for a second, grabbing a few things that have fallen off the railing, and I peer into Judith's crib. She blinks at me, big brown eyes that look so much like Lori's, and I suck in a sharp breath.

"Hey Judy," I murmur, reaching into the crib and letting her grab my finger. A song comes to mind and I swallow, clearing my throat. "Hey Jude, don't make it bad," I sing softly, waving her arm a little. "Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better..."

She kicks her tiny feet, yawning and smacking her lips.

"Hey Jude, don't be afraid," I murmur. "You were made to go out and get her. The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better."

She yawns again and I stifle my own. I feel Carol's hand on my shoulder and when I look up at her, she's smiling gently.

"Go get some sleep."

I don't argue. Beth wishes me goodnight. It's strange to hear those words when the sun shines brightly through the windows. I return to my bed, burrowing under my blankets, trying to drown it all out.

----------

I wake after what feels like hours, the cell block coloured grey with fading daylight, and yet I still feel groggy. I drag myself out of my cell, the other's voices drifting around, and bring myself to the perch and lean against the railing. Carol and Axel stand together at the end of the block, her rubbing his arm gently.

"Whenever Tomas went off, Oscar always stood up for me, you know?" Axel says. Carol nods, sympathy softening her face, and Axel looks up as Rick and Hershel approach. "He was my friend."

"He went out fighting," Rick says.

Beth stands from where she's sitting on the steps, rocking Judith. Glenn and Maggie linger in the doorways of separate cells. "So what now?" Beth asks. "You think the Governor will retaliate?"

"Yes," Maggie replies.

"Let him try," Glenn says.

"Sounds like he's got a whole town," Carol says. "We're outnumbered and outgunned."

"We could use some reinforcements," Hershel says, giving Rick a pointed look. Rick doesn't answer, lips pursed, jaw clenched. "Just talk to them."

It takes more long seconds of silence before Rick nods. Everyone heads to the cell block door and I push myself off the perch, intending to follow.

We pour out into the common area and the four newcomers look up, then stand as we come closer. The tall black man comes forward, extending his hand to Rick.

"I'm Tyreese," he says. Rick ignores his hand, doesn't even pretend to notice it, and Tyreese lets his arm drop back down to his side.

Hershel aims his crutch as he introduces them. "Sasha," he says, pointing at the only woman in the group. "Allen." The white man with brown hair. "Ben." The teenager.

"How'd you get in?" Rick asks, focusing on Tyreese.

"Fire damage to the administrative part of the prison," he answers. "Wall's down."

"That side's completely overrun with walkers. How'd you get this far?"

"We didn't. We lost our friend Donna."

"They were lost in the gyms," Carl pipes up.

"You brought them here?" Rick demands, turning to his son.

"He had no choice," Hershel says.

Rick nods a few times, slowly turning back to the other group. "I'm sorry about your friend," he says. "We know what that's like."

"Hershel said you could use some extra hands," Tyreese says. "We're no stranger to hard work. We'll go out and get our own food, stay out of your hair. You got a problem with another group, we'll help with that too. Anything to contribute."

I watch the back of Rick's head and hope he'll extend the olive branch. We need people and sure, we've run into a few bad ones, but still.

Rick thinks for a moment, then bows his head. "No."

"Please," Sasha says. "It's like '10 Little Indians' out there. It's just us now."

"No," Rick repeats.

"Let's talk about this," Hershel says. "We can't just keep—"

"We've been through this," Rick interrupts. "With Tomas, Andrew. Look what happened."

"Axel and Oscar weren't like them," Carol says, taking the words out of my mouth.

"And where's Oscar now?" Rick snaps, looking back at us. Axel hangs his head and Carol steps a little closer to him, reaching to touch his wrist lightly. "I can't be responsible."

"You turn us out, you are responsible," Tyreese says. His voice is steady and incredibly calm. I respect him for staying so composed—I know that I'd be desperate if I was in his place.

"Rick," Hershel says, ushering him aside.

The two of them put their heads together, voices low enough that I can't make them out, and I turn to ask Daryl what he thinks. There's no one beside me and it hits me all over again that he's gone, that we've lost another one of our own, and I suck in a sharp breath.

I look back at Rick as he puts his hands on his hips, thinking. After a second, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before he nods.

"Yeah," he says, nodding again, and he smiles a little as he pats Hershel's shoulder.

There's a tiny shred of relief in me. Rick looks up for a second, towards the second level near the warden's booth, and his expression drops. He averts his eyes, shifting back and forth, his jaw clenching.

"No. No, no," he mumbles, reaching up to his head again, repeating it over and over again.

He blows past Hershel, still looking at the upper level, pale, like he's seen a ghost. I look up, but there's nothing to see, and I frown.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?" he demands.

"Dad?" Carl asks.

"Why are you—no." He backs up, hands trembling, breaths shaky. "I can't help you! GET OUT!"

He spins around and we back up and away from him. Tyreese lifts his hands, trying to calm him, but again Rick presses his hand to his forehead.

"Get...get out!" he screams.

"Hey, come on," Tyreese says, doing his best to be soothing. "Whoa, it's all good."

"What are you doing?" Sasha murmurs to him.

"Hey, easy, Rick," Maggie says as he keeps pacing, shaking his head. "There's no need to—"

"You don't belong here!" he screams at her and, when he unholsters his gun, we all back up again. Maggie ushers Carl aside and Carol backs up and right into Axel. "Get out! Please!"

"Relax, brother. Relax!" Tyreese begs.

"Get out!" Rick sobs, aiming his gun towards the windows. "Get out!"

"We'll leave. We're going," Tyreese says. "Okay? Ain't nobody got to get shot here."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

Glenn ushers Tyreese and the other three away, begging them to go. There's a stammer in his voice as he follows them out of the block. Rick heaves, gun still dangling from his fingers, and he looks back towards the windows at the upper level.

Then, he storms back into the cell block, leaving us alone.

No one says anything, but clear shock and confusion paint every face. Hershel adjusts himself on his crutches. "Everyone, stay calm," he advises. "We'll figure this out."

"Maybe he's overtired?" I suggest. "We were out all night."

"Whatever it is...it isn't good," Carol says.

"Get some rest, all of you," Glenn says. "We'll talk in the morning."

No one argues, least of all me, and I go back into the cell block without a word. There's no sign of Rick inside. I guess he must have gone out the other door. I head up the stairs, stopping near Daryl's mattress. He left his poncho there, balled up to use as a pillow, and there's a pile of unfolded clothes with his handgun on top.

I gather everything, bringing it back to my cell, folding the clothes and setting them aside. I unfold the poncho last and, after staring at it for a second, I pull it over my head and tug the material close to me. It's warm and familiar and when I lay down, I bring it to my face and take a long, deep breath.

I'm just so tired.