It had been just past dawn when they left Woodbury. They had to cram into the cars, and that hadn't been easy on Maggie's and Glenn's injuries. They were looking fairly rough, but at least they were moving more or less under their own power. Everyone, except for him and the two former prisoners, had spent the trip back to the prison shooting concerned glances at them and at Andrea, who had made the trip huddling against Michonne's side, hiding her face.

Once back at the prison, everyone who had remained behind crowded around the cars as they got out, welcoming them back. Carl made a beeline to his dad, talking a mile a minute about something. Carol went to hug Daryl, but he half-turned away, looking almost bashful — and then he reached out with one arm to pull her into a tight hug. It looked almost as though he couldn't believe anyone was actually glad enough to see him to give him a hug. Michonne would have her hands full with training him, Methos thought with amusement. Then he caught sight of Joe, standing by the prison entrance, looking decidedly grim. What had happened?

He made his way toward Joe, going around the clump of people making sure their two friends were all right. When he got close, Joe inclined his head toward the door of the prison, and started walking, expecting him to follow. Which, granted, was a pretty solid expectation, all things considered. Once inside, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"Carl discovered a group of people hiding in the prison about an hour ago. He locked them in one of the cells."

Methos nodded. "Seems like a sensible precaution." And it was. Carl was barely a teenager and maybe even younger, and the only other people left in the prison had been a woman, a teen girl, an infant, and — he mentally apologized to Joe — two old men who couldn't walk without a crutch or cane. Not the most intimidating of fighters, and he was kicking himself and Rick for not leaving someone behind to protect the others, instead of leaving that protection on Carol's and Carl's shoulders.

Joe sighed, clearly unhappy. "Yeah, you're right. I hated the idea, so did Hershel, but Carol and Carl insisted."

Wait. His friend wouldn't normally be this worked up over keeping maybe-innocents in a cell until they could be vetted. "What aren't you telling me?"

"They said that Rick's been a little… unstable since his wife's death. This group might remind him of what happened. A woman bitten, someone not her husband had to… well. Make sure she wouldn't come back."

Now it was his turn to sigh. That wasn't a good situation. He and Joe had been around the group here long enough to be caught up on their recent events. Only a few days ago, Carl had had to make sure his mother wouldn't turn, after she passed away giving birth to his sister. He'd seen that Rick wasn't handling his grief, let alone be capable of making sure his son and daughter were all right. It was one of the reasons the entire group had come together to take care of the baby.

Should he get involved? He had no intention of staying around any longer than necessary, but Joe clearly expected him to intervene. What he wanted to do was get away from there, once he was sure that Michonne would take over training the new immortal. Commotion from the entrance behind him as several people entered saved him from saying anything.

"Where did you say they were?" Rick asked, looking down at Carl.

The boy pointed, deeper into the prison. "Down that wing. I locked them in."

"Good boy." Rick locked eyes with Methos. "They can't stay. We don't want strangers here."

Methos nodded. He understood Rick's message, loud and clear.

Rick flicked a glance at Glenn and Hershel. "Let's go. Carl, you stay put."

Carl's face fell. "But, Dad!"

"No." Rick didn't bother to look back at his son as he and the other two men went in the direction Carl had indicated.

Poor kid. He just wanted his father's attention. Methos knew better to intervene, but he would. "Carl, I was just about to go find Daryl and Michonne. She and I are going to give Daryl a lesson in sword fighting. Would you like to watch?"

Joe shot him a sharp look, and he shook his head, knowing the question that lay behind that look. No, the boy wasn't a pre-immortal. He mouthed, 'later', when Joe looked confused.

Carl brightened. "That sounds cool! I'll go find Daryl and Michonne!" He turned and raced outside.

Methos nodded toward the door. "You heard the lad, Joseph. That sounds cool. We ought to get moving." He led the way back out into the prison yard, Joe muttering darkly behind him.

Carl slouched on a stool in the prison yard, the brim of his dad's hat keeping the bright afternoon sunshine out of his eyes. The sword fight had gotten postponed from that morning so that the people who had gone to rescue Maggie and Glenn could get some rest. Now he was waiting for Adam and Michonne to finish talking to Daryl and get started. He wondered what they were saying. He couldn't hear what they were telling Daryl, but it looked important.

He'd been glad to see his dad and Daryl were all right when they returned with Maggie and Glenn. He had been so excited about what happened while they'd been gone that he told them as soon as they got out of the car about the group of people he'd locked up. He had protected the prison! He'd protected his sister, and Carol, and Beth, and Hershel, and Joe. He was still proud of himself, even if his dad didn't seem to be as impressed as he'd hoped.

He wasn't the only one waiting. Joe was standing beside Andrea and Maggie, and Carol was there holding his little sister. Some of the new people were there, too. Tyreese and Sasha were talking with Glenn, and Allen and Ben were talking with Axel and Oscar. He kinda felt sorry for Ben. Carl knew what it was like to lose his mother.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that there hadn't been much food for lunch. Maybe for dinner there'd be more to eat. Hershel was in charge of the kitchen today, along with Beth. Of course, after lunch was over, he had been the one to help with the clean up. He would have to help after dinner, too. He wondered if he'd ever get done with having to do chores.

Oh! He sat up, excited. They were starting! Adam and Michonne walked into the center of the prison yard, where they paused, and then suddenly blurred into motion. Carl didn't dare look away because he might miss something as they whirled and jumped.

Michonne and Adam spun around each other, slashing with their swords. They looked weirdly like dancers as they swung at and blocked each other. Every few minutes, they would stop, and have Daryl run through the same movements. It looked awesome. He knew his dad would probably say dancing was girl stuff, but if it was something like this? Then maybe it could be boy stuff, too.

Maybe his dad would let him learn? He knew better than to ask now, though. But where did Daryl get the sword? It looked heavy. Not like Michonne's Japanese sword. Adam's sword looked heavy, too, but it had a different shape than Daryl's. Would they let him look at their swords up close? Maybe swing them?

He gasped when the fighting suddenly changed. Daryl went in on the attack, slashing his sword at Adam at almost the same time Michonne swung her sword up and then down in an arc right at Adam too, and Carl held his breath because wasn't this just supposed to be practice? But then Adam blocked Daryl's sword and knocked him away and somehow brought his sword up to block Michonne's, too, and Carl had no idea how he did that. Then Adam swung his sword at Michonne, and Daryl did too. Carl watched, his heart in his throat, as all three swung and parried, and he couldn't tell who was fighting who and he was afraid the fight somehow turned real until all three of them stopped, and he was up and running to Daryl because that was amazing! He had to get his dad to let him learn, too.

Methos let his sword fall to his side, and then, in one swift, sure movement, sheathed it on his back. Only Michonne followed his movement. She nodded to him, and then turned her attention to Andrea and Maggie. From the sound of it, Maggie wanted to learn swordwork.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him, no doubt wondering what he'd done with his sword. He'd have to teach the youngster, but later. Carl rushed over to Daryl, followed by Carol, holding Daryl's 'lil asskicker.' Methos had to smile at the nickname. He rolled his shoulders to release tension, and spotted Joe among the onlookers. He caught Joe's attention and nodded toward the side yard where they were keeping the horses.

It was time to go.

He checked over the horses, making sure they were sound and ready for the long trip ahead, waiting for Joe to catch up. Most of their gear was already packed in the cell they had adopted as theirs. All they had to do was pack the last few things, and saddle up. He was checking his mare's front hoof, making sure she was ready for the trip, when Joe limped up.

"What are you doing?"

He lifted his mare's other leg. "We're leaving."

Joe edged into his line of sight, looking irritated that he wasn't turning around. "No, we're not."

"The kids have been rescued, the youngster will have a teacher, and we have a facility to find. Besides, Rick won't let anyone stay, not even the people that showed up today. He's given them until tomorrow morning to leave."

"And yet you think he's going to let Michonne stay? She's just as much a stranger to him as we are."

He shrugged. "She's a friend of Andrea's, who was part of the group before. They know her, and will let her vouch for Michonne. Besides, Daryl will make sure she can stay. He knows he needs a teacher."

"So that's it? You're gonna walk out, just like that? Leave them with Rick in charge? What about the Governor and his men in Woodbury? These people are in danger, and need all the help they can get!"

Methos sighed. "Joseph. Everyone — the entire planet — is in danger. This particular man is a danger to this particular group, yes. But if we can find that facility, and it leads us to a cure? We can help the entire world."

Joe stuck his chin out stubbornly. "We can leave after we're sure the people here are safe."

"You know as well as I do that they'll never be safe. There will always be another, bigger, threat on the horizon." Methos turned his attention to the pack horse. He would not risk Joe for people they barely knew.

"Yeah," Joe grumbled, his shoulders slumping. "I still don't like it. We should stay and help. There's no guarantee that —"

Raised voices from the prison yard cut Joe off in the middle of his sentence.

What now? Methos put his hand out, motioning Joe to stay put, and sprinted toward the main yard, swearing under his breath when he heard Joe mutter, 'like hell,' and limping steps following him.

He emerged from the side yard to an armed standoff. A group of about thirty people, looking frightened and exhausted, stood huddled together under the watchful eyes of everyone from the prison — including Tyreese's group. Two men approached Rick, who was watching them warily, with Daryl and Carol flanking him.

Wait. Wasn't one of the men Merle Dixon, Daryl's brother? Sure enough, when he checked, there was scowl on Daryl's face, directed at Merle.

Methos edged closer, so that he could hear. Carol shot him an unimpressed look, but nudged Andrea to make room for him. She moved aside, her eyes wide as she looked at him and then back at the two men.

A shorter man, looking very much like a stereotypical nerd, stood next to Merle, gesticulating wildly, spinning a tall tale with Merle cast as its hero.

"It was the Governor! No one could believe it. He freed all of the zombies and was walking around town, looking like a madman! Merle saved us. He shot the Governor, and then killed the zombies. But there's not that many of us left. The zombies killed so many people. We need protection. Daryl's brother is here, and so is Andrea. That's why we came."

Rick appeared unconvinced. "Why can't Merle protect you?"

"We wanted to make him our leader, but he refused."

They all looked at Merle, who shifted uncomfortably. "I knew you wouldn't accept us under your protection if I was their leader."

Daryl snorted. "That's for damn sure," he muttered under his breath.

Merle shot his brother a glare, but quickly smoothed his face into a fake smile, probably realizing that he'd be better off not further antagonizing the one man that might have a shred of sympathy left for him

Rick looked from the two men standing in front of him to the throng huddled in the center of the prison yard. "So you just want me to let you all stay here, just like that?"

Daryl leaned over slightly, as if to say something to Rick alone, but his voice was loud enough to carry over the crowd. "We don't got enough supplies to keep them fed."

The nerdy looking man spoke up, sounding excited and eager to please. "We have plenty of supplies in Woodbury! You just need to clear out the zombies."

Maggie spoke up, glaring daggers at Merle. "Then there's the little matter of you torturing me and Glenn."

Merle shifted, looking down for a moment as if embarrassed. Methos didn't buy it for a second. "It wasn't personal, swee— uh, ma'am. I had to. The Governor, he woulda had me killed if I didn't. Haven't you ever done something you didn't want to, to survive?" His gaze swept from her to Andrea, standing next to Michonne, and then over to Carol.

Andrea, already naturally pale, went even more white. Carol stared Merle in the eye, unflinching.

Hershel sighed heavily. "I have no forgiveness in my heart for this man, after what he did to my daughter and Glenn, but… Forgiveness is mine, saith the Lord. They're human beings, and they need help."

Maggie shot a furious, betrayed look at her father, but Hershel steadfastly ignored her, his eyes on Rick, waiting.

Rick looked down and huffed. Glenn looked ready to speak but Maggie put a hand on his arm, and he subsided. Daryl kept staring at Merle.

After a minute, the silence only broken by distant birdsong, Rick raised his head. He looked briefly at Axel and Oscar, the two men who had been prisoners, and something seemed to pass between them. Methos wondered what had happened during the rescue. Then Rick looked toward the other new group of people, and locked eyes with their leader, Tyreese. Finally Rick announced, "You are all welcome here, as long as you follow our rules, pull your weight, and cause no trouble." At that last, Rick locked eyes with Merle.

Merle scoffed, but apparently realized that Rick meant business, because he looked uncomfortable, then nodded.

With Merle's acceptance of Rick's terms, anyone holding a weapon lowered it, and started moving among the newcomers. Murmured welcomes and introductions rang out throughout the prison yard. The nerdy looking man was apparently called Milton, which was surely a case of nominative determinism.

Methos blew out a breath. Looked like things were working out here. Maybe now Joe would be willing to leave.

Carol bided her time, keeping an eye on her prey, waiting for an opportunity to cut him from the herd.

She'd… changed, since the plague. She had grown. More capable. Colder. More prepared to do what needed to be done. Survival was the name of the game. And the survival of the people who had become her family was her priority. Her eyes fell on Daryl, where he was talking with Beth. The girl held Judith, Daryl's li'l asskicker. She would do whatever she needed to make sure that he — that they — were safe.

There it was. Her opportunity. She slipped forward through the crowd.

"Come with me." Simple. Direct.

Her prey huffed a laugh at her, and with a raised brow swept out his hand in an after you gesture.

She turned, and wordlessly led him into the shadows of the prison's walls. There, she regarded her prey with a deadpan expression, simply waiting.

Merle Dixon was an abusive, sadistic bastard. A bully was probably the kindest thing anyone could say about him. Just like her former husband. She used to be so very afraid. So ashamed. Not any more. Now, she was prepared to defend those that were hers.

Unease flickered across Merle's face at her silence. "Well? Here I am. What do you want?"

"I used to be afraid of men like you, Merle Dixon. I used to be afraid of you. I'm not anymore. You hurt anyone here, anyone, and I'll make sure that's the last thing you ever do." She kept her voice level, her eyes calm. That unnerved men like Merle. Like her husband.

Merle huffed, looking away from her. "Maybe I'll just leave. Take my baby brother. You people won't have any protection."

Carol throttled down her glee at intimidating him, and her fury for saying anything about Daryl. Calm. She needed to stay calm. "You stay away from Daryl. You've hurt him enough. He's one of us, now."

He studied her, disbelief plain on his face. "You really mean that. What if I tell Daryl you threatened me?"

She shrugged. "Go for it. Tell him. Announce to the whole group. The great Merle Dixon, tattling to everyone that he's been threatened by a woman."

He snarled, baring his teeth at her. She just watched him, waiting, her face bland and unimpressed.

Finally, he hawked and spat in the dirt next to them. "Fine. We done now?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Just remember I've got my eye on you."

He sneered at her, but slouched off without any further trouble.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't expected that to go so well. Hopefully Merle would remember her threat. She would kill him before he could hurt any of her people.

Daryl was kinda sorry to see Adam and Joe ride out of the prison yard, on their way to search for the cure for the plague, but at least he had Michonne around to teach him about being an immortal. She said they'd have to leave sooner or later, because folks would notice they weren't getting old. He didn't like the thought of having to leave Carol behind, but it was better than the thought of not having to leave her because she wasn't around anymore.

He scanned the prison yard, looking for her, and spotted her sitting at one of the outside tables, cleaning her rifle. She looked up and smiled at him, but then her eyes slid to the side, and she looked concerned. Daryl followed her gaze, and it was Michonne approaching him. She probably wanted to talk to him. He glanced back at Carol and gave her a nod. She looked like she was ready to abandon her rifle to come check on him. On the one hand, it was sorta nice having someone care about him like that, but on the other, well, he'd been taking care of himself since he was a kid. He was relieved that she nodded back, and went back to cleaning the rifle.

Michonne nodded politely to Carol, then looked in the direction of the horses just turning out of sight as the road curved. "You've ridden with Death himself, young one."

Daryl frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Adam Pierson. He is much older than you know. And at one time… he rode with his three brothers, and he was known as Death."

"What, like…." Daryl shook his head. Michonne couldn't mean that, could she? He lowered his voice, even though no one could overhear, and whispered, "You mean like in the Bible?"

She nodded.

Daryl turned to look in the direction Adam had gone. He couldn't imagine what it might be like living for that long. Everyone he knew would grow old and die. That sounded… so lonely. No wonder Adam had been so protective of Joe. He'd be just as protective of Carol or his li'l asskicker, when Judith grew up.

If Adam truly was Death, one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, maybe he was the only one who would actually be able to find a cure to the plague. And wouldn't that be something?