Daryl stares out the window, half-limp, and it takes everything in me to focus on the road. There's nothing I can say to him to make it better, nothing I can do but lend a listening ear when the time comes.

He sits with his hands in his lap, slumped against the car door like a doll at a child's tea party. His crossbow sits at his feet. His eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks stained with tears, and all I can do is drive us back home and hope that, when he's ready, he'll know I'm here for him.

For a moment, lying in the grass back there, I worried that he wouldn't move. I pictured trying to drag him to his feet and failing, begging him to come with me and getting nothing in response. There were walkers nearby, wandering around without food to keep them occupied, and I thought that Daryl would lie there and join his brother.

"We have to go," I pleaded, whispering.

He let out another weak, creaking sob and I forced myself to let him go, to sit up and look for danger. Merle's body was closest, face caved in, and behind him was another body I faintly recognized. He was the teenager with Tyreese's group, the group Rick chased out, but I couldn't recall his name.

I focused back on Daryl even as bile rose in my throat. I gripped his shoulder.

"We have to go," I repeated. "We...we can take Merle with us, bury him."

Daryl shook his head as he finally sat up, his breaths still shaking. "No time," he bit out. "Governor's gonna be there soon."

I forgot about the deal. Without Michonne on his doorstep and with the death of his men to boot, the Governor will be knocking on our door again in no time.

We left not long after we arrived, empty-handed, sitting behind the wheel of Merle's last ride.

The prison comes into view and I look towards our main watchtower just in time to see someone disappearing around the corner. I maneuver through the busted gates and through the field, and I see Rick running to open the gate as we pull up.

Rick closes the gate behind us as I put the car in park. Daryl's out before the engine's off and I take a deep breath before following. Rick approaches, brow furrowed as he looks between the two of us.

"Merle?" he asks.

Daryl turns away as his expression crumples with emotion and Rick looks to me for answers. He isn't stupid, I can see it in his eyes that he knows, but I shake my head anyway.

"No."

I catch Daryl running his hand under his nose, just a quick brush as he sniffles once, and Rick's shoulders sag. "I'm sorry, Daryl."

"Sure," Daryl mumbles.

Rick clears his throat after a moment of silence. "We're gonna fight for this place," he says. "It'll be tough, but we've got a plan. You in?" We both nod. "Good. I'll explain more inside."

----------

It's a simple plan, in theory.

We're going to make the Governor believe that we've abandoned the prison. To do so, we need to pack up all our things and stash the cars. That's the first part. The second involves hiding out in the Tombs and ambushing them when the chance comes. Rick is hoping that, using a combination of smoke bombs and alarms, we can scare them back out into the open and chase them off.

There's not a whole lot of strategy behind it and if we lose the element of surprise, we're done for.

On top of that, people have questions about what happened with Merle. Rick told everyone about the deal during their earlier meeting, so that's cleared up, but Merle's death remains a mystery to them.

It's tough, and I do my best to take over most of the talking, hoping that it will spare Daryl any further pain. From what we gathered, and thanks to Michonne's input from her conversations with Merle before he set her free, Merle went after the Governor and succeeded in taking out multiple Woodbury soldiers, only to get shot in the chest and left to turn.

He died fighting for our cause.

The mood seems even more solemn after that. Daryl disappears into the cell block. I find myself lost again, not sure what to do, and I wonder if that feeling ever truly goes away.

----------

I try to give Daryl alone time. Really, I do, but I'm learning that I'm really, really bad at leaving him alone.

I find him sitting on the floor in our cell, back against the bottom bunk, staring at the wall as he toys with an arrow. I lean against the doorway and cross my arms loosely over my chest.

"Do you need anything?" I ask. It sounds pitiful, but it's all I can think to say.

He shakes his head. "Lost him twice," he mumbles, so quiet I can barely hear.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't look at me, letting out a long breath. "I..." He stops, shaking his head again, and he sighs again.

"You can take your time. It's okay," I say. I walk in, lowering myself to his level for just long enough to brush his bangs from his eyes. "I'll say a prayer for him and, if the Lord is good, you'll see him again someday."

He scoffs, half-hearted. "Wish I had faith like you."

I press a lingering kiss to his forehead, closing my eyes. "He loved you, Daryl."

I don't know if Merle ever told him. It took Daryl a long time to say anything like that to me, so the idea of Merle saying it seems outlandish. But, it's like Carol said, Dixons are men of action, not words.

I pull away and Daryl's got that twisted expression again. He presses his fist to his mouth, sucking in a sharp breath, and I hesitate.

"Do you need time alone?"

Another breath, but he reaches out and pulls me into his arms. He buries his face against my shoulder, quivering all over again.

"Stay," he croaks. He doesn't have to ask me twice.

----------

Bright and early, we get to work packing everything away. It's a brisk morning. Our breath fogs from our lips as we work.

Carl's in a particularly sour mood—Rick has him stationed with Hershel, Beth, and me looking after Judith and hiding out in the woods. He made his desire to be part of the fight clear, but Rick's wishes are clearer. Carl is still a kid, no matter how hard it is to forget that sometimes, and children don't belong in war.

I haul a crate full of food outside to where we're loading the cars. Rick checks under the hood of the Chevy Daryl and I brought back, making sure it's fit to run while Beth and Carl stuff the trunk of the Tuscon up to the brim. We'll stow the cars in the garage where the facility's officers would park their vehicles, and anyone on the outside will be none the wiser to their whereabouts—all except for the Tuscon, which Hershel, Beth, Carl and I will be taking into the woods to hide with.

I hand my crate off to Beth, thanking her before turning back around. Daryl sits by his motorcycle, folding up his poncho and making sure all his arrows are accounted for.

"How's he doing?"

Carol stands behind me, lips pursed, eyes on Daryl, and I shrug. "As good as you could hope for, I guess." I meet her eyes. "I...I wish I could help him."

"All we can do is be there for him," she says.

She nudges me with her shoulder, gives me a tight smile, and walks off. She pauses by Daryl and, as she speaks to him, I approach slowly, tucking my hands in my hoodie pockets.

"You know, Merle never did nothing like that his whole life," Daryl is saying as I get in earshot.

"He gave us a chance," Carol says.

She holds out her hand and, after a second, he takes it and she tugs him to his feet. She squeezes once before letting him go. Daryl bunches the poncho in his hands as he stoops to grab his bag.

I beat him to his second quiver and we lock eyes. I smile softly, handing it off to him as we straighten up.

"Just about ready to go," I comment, trying to sound casual. He nods, lips pursing briefly, and I add, "I've got a good feeling about this."

"Do you really?" he asks. "Or you just hoping again?"

I avert my eyes. "Maybe both?" He raises an eyebrow. "Mostly hoping."

He exhales out his nose and presses a quick kiss to the side of my head. "Gotcha," he murmurs.

----------

When all is said and done, we split off to our various stations. Glenn and Maggie, suited up in riot gear, stake out the catwalks. I get in the Tuscon with Hershel in the passenger seat and Beth and Carl in the back with Judith. Rick nods to us as we drive out, leaving the gate loosely latched behind us. He's going to hide in the Tombs and await ambush with Michonne, Daryl, and Carol.

I don't go far, driving off the road and through a sparser patch of forest right near the prison. When I park the car and we climb out, we can still see the guard towers through the trees. I climb out, the others close behind, and slowly but surely, we camouflage the car with sticks, leaves, and branches.

We wait. Beth sings softly to Judith in the backseat and I sit in the front seat, door open as I watch for enemies. Carl paces, gun in hand, and Hershel sits next to me. Birds chirp. Leaves rustle. We can't find it in ourselves to start a conversation.

Roaring engines pierce the silence and immediately, I'm more on edge. A moment after the engines sound, there's a massive explosion as the watch tower out front goes up in flames. Then, rapid gunfire, a choir of flying metal announcing the Governor's arrival. I huddle inside the hidden Tuscon and grip my ears. Even from a distance, the rattling gunshots shake me to my core.

Another explosion, another guard tower gone, reduced to a smoking pillar, and more gunfire, before it finally goes quiet again.

I dig for the binoculars Hershel brought with us, tucked in the glove compartment, and peer through them. It's hard to see everything through the foliage, but I do see the Governor's soldiers unloading from their vehicles and rushing up to the gate.

"Let me see," Hershel says, extending his hand to me as I lower the binoculars.

I hand them off and he takes a look. "They're going inside," he says. He brings the binoculars to his chest. "Let's pray that everything works out."

For many long, agonizing minutes, all we can do is sit and listen. Beth emerges from the car and comes to crouch by me and Hershel. Carl keeps pacing, tapping his gun against his leg. When alarms sound from within the prison, each of us perks up, huddling together as we look toward the chaos.

There's screaming, then shouts, and then gunfire starts up again. Beth grips her dad's arm, breaths shaking, and Hershel rubs her back in comfort.

"I should be there," Carl mutters.

"You have a duty out here," I say. "Protecting your sister."

His lips purse, but he doesn't say anything else. The screaming is still prevalent, gunfire punctuating the terror, and then I hear engines rumbling.

A last round of gunfire goes off before everything goes quiet. I let out a long breath. Rick said for us to wait until we're sure the danger has passed, but I'm eager to rejoin everyone.

"Come," Hershel says.

He ushers us behind the Tuscon, hobbling a bit as he goes. I check the backseat and Judith is still cuddled in her blankets, sleeping peacefully.

Footsteps. I jerk my head up just as Hershel and Carl's guns click.

"Hey, woah woah woah!" someone says. "Don't shoot!"

"Drop the gun, son," Hershel says.

A young man, can't be older than eighteen, stands a few feet from us, hands up and eyes wide. His face and clothes are too clean for him to be from anywhere other than Woodbury. He looks between Carl and Hershel like a rabbit ready to run.

"S-Sure," he says, nodding. He has a shotgun in one hand, and he slowly reaches it out towards Carl. "Here, take it."

Carl stares him down, gun still raised. The boy looks between us and Carl, still reaching out, slowly but surely.

Carl shoots and the boy drops, so suddenly that it's like a marionette with its strings cut, and I stifle a yelp of shock. Blood trickles from the brand-new hole between the boy's eyes and I look away, swallowing the urge to vomit.

Carl holsters the gun, turns to us, and nods. "Let's get back."

Hershel watches Carl's every step as he moves back to the car, then his gaze falls on me. I hope he can see the plain horror I'm painting all over my face. His lips purse.

----------

I park the Tuscon and Carl and Beth climb out. Hershel starts to leave but I reach out, resting my hand on his arm. His eyes shift to me even as I watch Carl disappear into the prison.

"We..." I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. "We have to tell Rick."

"I plan to," Hershel assures me.

I nod and we get out of the vehicle. Hershel hobbles off into the prison and I linger by the car, wringing my hands as if that'll get rid of the jitters. The Governor's gone, but for how long, and what's our next move? Carl shot someone without so much as blinking and I keep picturing how the boy fell, eyes still wide and scared.

Someone lightly touches my arm and I startle, but it's only Daryl, and his brow furrows at me. "You okay? Look like you've seen a ghost."

I shake my head. "Sorry, sorry, just...distracted." I force a shaky smile and, judging by how his expression stays the same, he doesn't believe it for a second. "What about you?"

"Fine," he says, dismissive. He glances at the gate. "We're going to Woodbury. We're gonna make sure this is finished."

"Soon?"

"Soon as we get the cars out."

"I'll...hold up the fort," I say, although the idea of facing 20-odd armed Woodbury soldiers, should they return, makes me feel faint. "Who's going? You, Rick?"

"Michonne too, maybe Carol," Daryl says. After a second, he frowns a little as if rethinking. "Actually, should ask Carol to stay back."

I wring my hands a little before pressing them to my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I think I'm still nervous. We haven't really won yet, right?"

He grasps my wrists, pulling my hands from my face and holding them between us as he gives me a serious, burning look, raging with pure unadulterated determination. "We will. I'll make sure of it." He kisses my knuckles, then takes my hand. "Come on. Gotta get my bike."

I squeeze his hand and let him tug me away.

----------

Things move fast and soon, we're just about ready to get back out there. Even though the Governor's soldiers oh-so-kindly cleared the yard of walkers, more have wandered through the busted front gates and congregated at the fence, snarling at the fresh meat staying just out of reach.

"Here, hold onto this for me," Daryl says, tugging his poncho off and handing it to me.

"Won't you be cold?" I ask.

"Nah."

I smile a little and tug it over my hoodie, adjusting it a bit. "I'll keep it safe."

He revs his engine a bit as he settles onto the seat. Rick and Michonne sit in the truck, engine rumbling, and I slip my machete from my belt as I move to the fence to join Carol and Beth. The three of us dispatch the walkers closest to the fence, then back off as Glenn and Maggie haul the gate open.

As soon as there's room, both the motorcycle and the truck roar off and out of the prison. Carol slices the head off one more walker before Glenn ushers her back inside. When the gate slams, Beth kills another walker, grimacing as blood splatters her hands and coat.

We're left to sit and wait, hoping above all hope that the three of them return victorious.

----------

For the first few hours after they disappear, we stay vigilant. I unpack our bedding and make sure we're all set for the evening, Carol makes dinner, and Beth and Hershel look after Judith. Glenn and Maggie pace with rifles in hand, looking out the windows and peeking outside. Eventually, when it starts to get dark out, we congregate back in the living area at Glenn's request.

"We should set up a watch," he says. "If the Governor comes back, we'll sound the alarm."

"And then what?" Maggie asks. "Hide?"

"Or fight." He looks towards me, then Carol, then Hershel and Carl and Beth in turn. "Are you ready for that?"

"If it's what we have to do, we'll do it," Carol says, knotting her hands together on the tabletop. She looks around at us all and I spare her a weak nod.

"I'll take first watch," Glenn says, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "We've had a long day. Everyone get some rest. Maggie, I'll wake you for next watch."

"I'll go third," I offer, raising my hand.

"I'll go after her," Carol adds.

Silence, a few agreeing nods. Carl stands up and sulks off to his cell. After another moment, Judith starts to cry and Beth shushes her softly, getting to her feet as she starts to pace. I stifle a sudden yawn.

"Goodnight then, everyone," I offer.

"You too, Hope," Beth says with a tiny smile.

I go back to my cell and curl up with Daryl's poncho around me, praying that when I next open my eyes, it's to the sound of him coming home.

----------

I don't wake up to him coming home, but I don't have to wait long after that.

We're eating breakfast when we hear engines in the distance—the chainsaw rumble of a motorcycle like music to my ears. I'm up in a flash, hurrying to the doors with Glenn and Maggie hot on my heels. We race outside, going right up to the gate just in time to see Daryl riding through the front gates, followed closely by the truck and a school bus with boards lining the sides.

Glenn and Maggie haul the gate open and I watch for stray walkers, but none get close enough before everyone's through. Daryl climbs off his motorcycle and I'm already there, arms around his neck in a tight, welcome-home hug. He hugs me back, breath against my neck.

I pull away, looking back at the bus. The others have trickled outside, all sharing my intrigue as they look between the bus and Rick, now emerging from the truck. Michonne stays in the passenger seat, hunched over with a pained look on her face.

Two somewhat familiar faces climb off the bus: Tyreese and Sasha, two of the people Rick turned away from the prison. Alongside them is a woman with black curly hair and a smear of blood on her cheek. They start helping people off the bus, mostly elderly folks, women, and children.

I look back up at Daryl as he slings an arm over my shoulder. He watches the line of people file into the prison, welcomed by Hershel at the door, lips pursed.

"They're joining us?" I ask.

"Looks like it," he says.

I glance behind us as Michonne finally leaves the truck. She walks along the side to the trunk, where I finally notice the shroud on the tailgate, a dark spot fully bloomed at the head. Michonne lightly touches it with her fingertips, her lips pinching with a surge of sorrow. My breath hitches.

"Who...?" I start, making Daryl follow my gaze.

We wouldn't bring the Governor's body back and, looking towards the bus, I realize that there's someone important missing. There isn't a single blonde ponytail in the mix. I step a little closer to Daryl, staring up at him, and he exhales.

"Yeah," he mumbles, confirming what must be clear on my face. "This is what she would've wanted."

I wrap my arms around his middle, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Ain't nothing we can do but keep on going, right?" he replies.

I nod. Seeing all these people coming into the prison, maybe I should feel wary, or nervous, but I'm not. I'm cautiously optimistic, excited to see what the future will look like from here.