We drive in silence, Michonne behind the wheel of the Hyundai. Rick sits in the passenger seat, and Carl and I sit in the back. I look out the window, humming quietly. We pass a sign left for a survivor from another survivor, both of them more than likely dead. Carl leans closer to me, and I look over at him. He's staring at something ahead of us, and I follow his gaze. It's a man, who's trying to hitchhike. As we drive closer, he starts to jump and wave his arms, yelling. "Hey! Hey, slow down! Slow down! Slow—" Michonne keeps driving, ignoring the pleas from the hitchhiker. "I'm begging you! Please!"

Carl and I turn, watching the hitchhiker try to run after the Hyundai. We turn back around as Michonne continues to drive. I look over at Carl; he's looking down, his face covered in something, shock maybe. He believes in leaving no one behind, even when they're a danger to the group, or slowing the group down. That's one difference between the two of us; I'd leave a person behind if they were a danger, and it would depend on who is slowing the group down.

We come to a part of the road that's barricaded by overturned cars and trucks. Daryl's motorcycle would be able to fit through, though. Unfazed by the cars, Michonne drives around them, off the road. There's a worn path that she stays on; other people must come this way. I frown inwardly at the thought; we've been on the road with each other for so long that the thought of other people, outsiders, is almost menacing.

Michonne slows to look at a walker trapped under a truck. She starts to speed up, but the tires start spinning. She presses on the gas pedal harder, but the tires keep spinning. "Gas pedal's on the right," I mutter.

Michonne ignores my comment. Carl glares at her, clearly annoyed with the progress we're making. Rick raises his dark eyebrows, and Michonne takes her foot off the gas. Suddenly, a walker pounds on the windshield, causing Carl and I to jump. Michonne gives no reaction, and neither does Rick. More walkers crowd around the vehicle, trying to get in. Rick looks over his shoulder at us. "Cover your ears."

Carl, Michonne and I cover our ears, and Rick rolls down the window a little. He slides the barrel of his revolver out the crack, the end of it against a walker's forehead. He covers his right ear with his left hand, and pulls the trigger.

Rick bends down to pick up a scarf. "Yeah, this'll work."

I raise my eyebrows at that. Michonne just nods, and Carl mirrors my reaction. I glance at the walker bodies on the ground as we step over them on the way back to the Hyundai. "Tell me when," Michonne says, climbing in the front seat.

I climb in with Michonne as the two Grimes' kneel in front of the car. "Wouldn't've have had to if she didn't get us stuck," Carl says loudly.

"We can hear you, dumbass!" I call.

"No, you can't!" Carl replies. I chuckle softly, and Michonne looks at me in the rear view mirror. After a moment, she softly says, "You're lucky to have him."

"Michonne, I am the last girl you want to talk to when it comes to girl talk," I say.

"I figured," she replies. "But he's good for you. I've seen how you are."

"You don't know nothin' 'bout me."

"You're a fighter. Cold, tough. You try to shut yourself off, to shut them out, but you can't. You care about them too much. If I'd ask you why you had to fight the world, what would you say?"

"All the world's ever done is fight me," I immediately answer.

"Exactly," Michonne says. "You treat the whole world as your enemy. You need someone like him, or else you'll end up worse than dead."

"Like Dally was before," I softly say.

"You've got something to keep you from getting cold. Hold on to it."

"You've lost," I say, just now realizing it. "Someone important to you. Not a husband, you don't have a ring."

Michonne's quiet for a few moments, and I wonder if she's going to tell me. I doubt it. She's like me; she doesn't trust people easily. Finally, she says, "Yeah. I did. We've all lost."

"That we have," I agree.

Michonne doesn't reply, for the hitchhiker is back. "Hey!" he yells, as Michonne and I both sigh in annoyance. I'm starting to like her a bit more. "Hey! Help me! I'm begging you! Don't leave! Please!"

Rick stands, and Carl follows him. He stares at the hitchhiker running down the road. Our leader taps the car twice, telling us to go. Michonne puts her foot on the gas, and the Hyundai pulls forward. We ignore the cries of the man as Rick and Carl climb in, and we take off again. Michonne keeps driving until we enter King County. She parks in front of a store and we all get out, carrying our weapons. Rick leads the way to the police station. We follow him inside, to the armory. He glances inside and sighs; there's no weapons or ammo left. I follow him inside, with Carl and Michonne behind me. Rick kicks the wall, muttering under his breath. I look around, and something gleaming on the floor catches my eye. I kneel to look at it; it's a single bullet. I pick it up and stand back up. "You got any other police stations in town?" Michonne asks.

"I was the police here. Me and a few other guys. Ain't a big town," Rick says, then pauses to think. "There's other places to check. May not have as many guns as were in here, but—"

"We need as many guns as were in here," Michonne says, cutting him off. "Ammo too."

"Yeah, we do," Rick agrees. "But I only got a line on a couple. There's a few places out on the main street. Bars, a liquor store. Owners had a gun or two behind the counter that people didn't know about. I did, I signed the permits. They might still be there."

Michonne doesn't say anything, except for a quiet, irritated sigh. Rick looks at her. "Do you have a problem with that approach?"

She looks at him. "No, Rick. I don't have a problem."

Carl and I watch as she turns to walk out of the armory. I hold my hand out, the bullet between my fingers. Rick looks at it, me, then back to the bullet again. He takes it, nodding once. Rick turns it in his fingers twice, then tucks it in his shirt pocket. You always save the last one. Carl and I follow him out of the armory, and outside, where Michonne waits. He leads us down the road, towards the center of the town. Along the way, there's messages spray painted on the facades of buildings.

Near the message that says AWAY WITH YOU Rick stops. He looks into a field that has piles of burnt walker bodies. He glances down, as if he knows what it means. Michonne, Carl, and I look at them, trying to figure out what Rick knows. Rick starts walking again, and I notice there's arrows making a path on the sidewalk.

Rick leads us around a corner, pausing only once to stare at the strange contraption in the middle of the street. He and Carl pull out their guns, and I swing my crossbow into place. I keep my handgun under the waistband of my jeans. Michonne's hand rests on the handle of her katana, ready to use if need be. "What is it?" Carl asks.

"I don't know," Rick replies slowly.

"Are they traps?" I ask after studying them for a moment. Sharp sticks are arranged in circles, preventing the walkers from getting to whatever small animal is in a cage in the middle. "For the walkers?"

"I don't know," Rick repeats. I glance down at the crosswalk in front of us, reading the message sprayed on it: TURN AROUND AND LIVE.

"That's welcomin'," I observe, and the others look at the message, giving nods of agreement. Rick leads the way through the labyrinth of walker traps, careful to avoid any tripwires. "It looks like someone's already made this theirs," Michonne observes.

"Doesn't mean they found what we're looking for," Rick says. "Couple of the places are just up ahead." We duck under a tripwire, and Rick gestures to a store up ahead. "Up there. Tyrell's. Shotgun, two handguns. License issued to Tyrell Debbs."

"Damn encyclopedia," I mutter. Rick ignores my comment. The all too familiar snarling of a walker sounds behind us, and we turn as I aim my crossbow. Rick puts a hand on top of it. "Wait," he says. "She'll get caught."

The walker hits the tripwire we previously ducked under, and a gunshot rings out, hitting her in the head. She falls to the ground as Michonne, Carl, Rick, and I turn. There's a masked man standing on the roof of a building, holding a rifle. "Hands!" he yells.

Rick hurries to put his hands in the air, and Carl, Michonne, and I follow his lead. "Now you drop what you got and you go! Your guns, your shoes, that crossbow, and that sword. All of it. Ten seconds."

"Carl, take Clary and run for the car," Rick says under his breath.

The masked man begins to count down as Carl looks at his father. "Dad."

"We need that rifle," I hiss. Eight.

"I think I can get up there," Michonne says.

"Seven," yells the man.

"I'll cover you," I tell Carl, as Rick says, "Carl, go!"

He fires at the masked man, who begins to fire back as Carl takes off. He ducks behind a truck, and takes over covering me while I run for him. A stray bullet hits the ground barely inches from me, and I let out a yelp, diving to the side in case more follow. "Clary!" Carl cries, firing two more shots at the masked man. "C'mon!"

He runs out to meet me, hooking his arm around my waist after he pulls me to my feet. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and he pulls me to the truck, covering us. "You hurt?" Carl asks, checking to see how many rounds he has left. "Dammit. I'm down to two."

"Save 'em," I tell him. "I've got six."

"Are you hurt?" he repeats.

"I'm good," I answer. "We're not leavin' without a fight."

"Agreed," Carl says. He gestures across the street. "There. That alley."

He takes my hand, and we get to our feet, taking off towards the alley. I fire once up at the masked man, and he ducks down. It gives us enough time to get across the street. Rick sees us running and yells, "I told you to get out of here!"

"It's called covering your ass!" I yell back to him. I lean out to see that he's just up the street a little ways, hunkered down behind a barrel. Then, I see the masked man making his way forward while Rick reloads, getting up to fire. I'm about to call out a warning when a gunshot rings out just as Rick stands. I freeze, thinking for a moment that Rick was shot before I realize that the man has dropped to the ground. I turn around to find Carl behind me, using one of his last two bullets to take him down. Michonne appears next to us, sword in hand, looking at Carl. "You okay?" Rick asks, and no one replies, not sure who he's asking. "Carl? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Carl answers, looking up at his father.

"I told you two to run for the car. I didn't want you to have to do that. Either one of you."

"I had to," Carl says, as I say, "It's already too late for me."

Michonne looks over at us, and it takes me a second to realize that she's looking at me. I look away from her, down at the masked man. "What the hell?" I mutter, kneeling beside him. Despite Carl shooting him, there's no blood. I rap my knuckles on his chest, and it clinks. "He's wearing body armor."

I look up as Rick kneels beside me, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a bulletproof vest, like the ones that we wear on watch. Rick pulls it off of him and lifts up his white tank top, revealing dark skin and a bruise. "He's alive," Rick says.

"Do we care?" Michonne says, and I give a nod of agreement with her statement.

Rick glances up at her, then pulls his mask off. Underneath is a dark skinned man with short, black hair and a goatee of the same color, his eyes closed. Rick stares at him, his face a mix of surprise, confusion, and horror. "Yeah," he finally says. "It's Morgan."

"Who the hell is Morgan?" I ask.

Rick gestures down to the man below us. "He is. I met him when this first started. He saved my life."

Carl and I stand watch over Morgan, until Rick and Michonne come back, picking him up to carry him into a building. "Watch the mat," Michonne warns us as they step over it.

They lead the way upstairs, Carl following behind them. I kneel by the mat, picking up the edge and looking under it. There's a hole, filled with various sharp objects. Rick says something to Carl that I don't catch as I say, "Real friggin' original, Morgan."

"Clary," Carl hisses. "You coming?"

I nod, joining him as we climb the stairs. As we near the top, Carl suddenly grabs my arm, pulling me back. I nearly lose my balance, and Carl puts an arm around me as I wrap mine around him, catching me. "What the hell?" I ask.

"Tripwire," he answers. "Thought you knew." Carl reaches up, pushing aside the curtain to reveal a bloodied axe. "Whoa."

"Holy shit," I add. Carl looks over at me, nodding his agreement. I release my hold on him, muttering an apology, as he removes his arm. We step over the tripwire, following Rick and Michonne into another room. Carl and I stop short in the doorway, looking around the room. "Whoa," Carl repeats.

"Christ," I say. The entire room is filled with weapons. Rifles, handguns, assault guns, grenades, knives. Everything. I even spot a crossbow or two in the corner. "Daryl's getting an early present."

Carl looks over at me, and I gesture to the crossbows. Rick glances around, then says, "I showed him that weapons locker last year."

"And it had all of this in it?" I ask.

"No, not even half," Rick says, still looking at everything. "He's been busy."

Michonne, Carl, and I each grab a bag, filling it with weapons and ammo, while Rick reads the messages all written on the walls. He stares at one that says "DUANE TURNED" for a good amount of time. Eventually, he says, "No." We stop what we're doing, looking up at him. "We're gonna wait for him to wake up. We're gonna make sure he's okay."

"He tried to kill us," Michonne argues.

"He told us to go. He didn't know who we were."

"Let me rephrase," I say. "He tried to kill us and we didn't leave him for the walkers. He's had a pretty damn good day."

Michonne adds, "He doesn't need half of these guns. We do."

"We're waiting for him to wake up," Rick repeats. "That's it."

"Have you add a look around this place?" Michonne questions. "The axe, the spikes, the walls."

"You think he's crazy?"

"No. I think he's dangerous."

"He's dangerous," I agree.

"I know him," Rick says.

"He wasn't like this then," Michonne counters. "You said so yourself."

"We're gonna wait for him to wake up," Rick repeats sternly, silently telling us that his decision is final. Michonne turns around and walks into the other room, obviously irritated that we're waiting for the man that tried to kill us to wake up. I follow her, watching as she looks at Morgan's collection of odds and ends weapons. There's crowbars, an axe or two, and a pick-axe. I watch as she studies a pick-axe, then picks it up. She holds it as if she's about ready to swing it, and I ask, "What are you, prospecting?"

She sets the axe down, glaring at me. I shrug, turning to see what Carl's doing. He studies a map drawn on the wall with chalk, and I join him, realizing after a moment that it's King County. Down one street, a house is marked Rick's House. I gesture up to it, asking, "That's where you used to live?"

He nods, then points at the lines drawn through the houses on the street. "My neighborhood, it's gone."

Behind us, Rick asks, "What do you see?"

"Our neighborhood," answers Carl. "It's gone, burnt to the ground."

"Is that why you wanted to come? To see the house?"

I look at Carl. He doesn't answer. "Carl," Rick says.

Carl stares at the map, then looks down. "I–I just wanted to come."

Rick walks off, satisfied with his son's answer. However, I know him well enough to know that he's lying. "Why'd you want to come?" I ask him, keeping my voice quiet so only he will hear. "Carl?"

"Don't tell my dad," he whispers in reply. "There's a picture. My mom, she's in it. I want to get it for Judy. So she knows what her mom looks like."

"Oh, Carl," I say softly.

"What? Is it a bad idea?"

"No, no, of course not. I think it's a great idea. It's sweet."

Carl looks over at me, softly smiling. He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, then grins, trying not to laugh. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says. "I always wondered why people do that in movies."

I grin at that, having wondered it myself. "So they can do this," I answer, leaning forward to kiss him.

He leans in to meet me, then abruptly stops when we hear crunching behind us. We turn around to find Michonne eating a protein bar. "We're eating his food now?" Carl inquires.

Michonne shrugs. "Mat said welcome."

"With a hell of a lot of cliché ass knives under it," I add, taking a seat on a table next to her. She holds up the remaining half, gesturing for me to take it. I shake my head, telling her, "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten in two days," she replies. "It's peanut butter."

I glance down, not wanting to look at Michonne. I barely know her and she's already offering her food to me. "I said I'm not hungry, 'chonne."

Carl announces, "I'm going on a run."

"Where?" Rick inquires.

"I thought maybe the one thing that people didn't loot was cribs. There's that baby place that Mom's friend Sara ran. It's just around the corner."

"Carl."

"It's just around the corner. And there's all those walker traps."

"You're gonna need some help carrying the box," Michonne says.

Carl looks down at her. "What?"

"You're gonna get a crib, you gotta get the box. It a big, and heavy. You're gonna need help carrying the box. You are getting a crib, right?"

Carl nods. "That's what I said."

Before I can volunteer to go with Carl, Michonne does. "Then I'll go with him."

Rick considers this. "Right there, that's the deal. You get into trouble, you holler, okay? We'll hear it and come running."

They both nod, and Michonne gets up to leave. I don't miss the fact that she sets the protein bar beside me. Carl walks over to me, picking up an extra magazine from the table I sit on. "So, do I get a kiss for good luck?" he asks.

I start to lean forward, then stop, telling him, "Come back alive, Cowboy. Then we'll see."

Carl narrows his eyes, and I elbow him. "Get goin', Grimes."

He nods, then slides the magazine in his pocket. I kiss his cheek before he leaves, and he looks at me. "What was that for?" Carl asks.

"Just in case," I tell him. "Go. I'm gonna take watch."

"Eat, Clary," he says before he leaves, gesturing to the bar. I glare at him, but pick it up as I climb up to the roof, watching for any walkers. I spend about ten minutes on the roof, but see no walkers. If they were coming, they'd be here by now. I start to climb down the stairs to the second floor of the building, then stop, listening, when I hear shouts. "Rick?" I call. He doesn't reply right away, I call, "Rick? You okay?"

"I'm fi—" Rick starts to reply, but cuts himself off with a grunt. There's an awful lot of crashing, yelling, grunting, and banging from down there. I run down the stairs, dropping the rifle as I swing my crossbow into place on my shoulder. Morgan pins Rick to the ground, a knife hovering above Rick's heart. Rick pushes back against him, but Morgan overpowers the former sheriff, pushing the knife down, just missing Rick's heart. The leader cries out, and I drop my crossbow, tackling Morgan off of him, bringing the knife with us.

He drops the knife as we hit the ground, and I try to get up, but he rolls over, on top now. Morgan manages to land a punch, and I swing my leg around, suddenly remembering the fight scene from Mission: Impossible II. I think to myself, I hope this works or else I'm royally fucked. Using my leg, I push him off, and he hits the ground next to me. He grabs the knife as we both scramble to our feet, and he knocks my feet out from under me. I land on my back, and throw my hands up just in time to stop the knife as he swings it. My eyelashes brush the blade as I stare up at it, surprised that I actually stopped it. Morgan tries to push down, but Rick appears, knocking him off of me. The blade lands beside me, and I pick it up. Rick steps back from Morgan as he tries to get up, but I throw the knife, and it embeds itself in the wall, inches from Morgan's head. "You missed," he says, glancing at it on his right.

"No, I didn't," I reply. I pull out my own knife, throwing it into the wall, this time about half an inch from his face on his left. "I never miss."

"That's enough!" Rick barks as I grab a third knife off the table beside me. He pulls his own gun out, aiming it at Morgan while yelling, "You know me! You crazy son of a bitch!"

"Please," Morgan says, grabbing the barrel of Rick's gun. I pull out my gun, immediately aiming it at him, but he doesn't pull the Python out of Rick's grasp. Instead, he pushes the end of the barrel to his forehead. "Please. Kill me. Please."

"Rick?" I ask, and he shakes his head, telling me not to fire. Rick pulls his gun away from Morgan as I lower mine, and he orders, "Tie him up."

I grab the pack of zip ties on the crate beside me, tying Morgan to the radiator. I walk back over to Rick, picking up gauze and bandages on my way. He leans against a table, wincing as he pulls off his shirt. "You alright?" he asks as I press gauze against his shoulder to stop the bleeding. "Clary?"

"I'm fine," I answer.

"Good. Daryl'd never trust me if I let something happen to you."

"I Mission: Impossible'd that bitch," I say. "Trust me, I'm good."

"Jesus Christ, Clary," Rick sighs. "You get a thrill out of this type of thing, don't you?"

"Nearly dyin', fights, stunts? Hells yeah."

"You're reckless, Clary."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yes! It's gonna get you killed sooner or later."

"Nothing's killed me yet."

"You're too damn cocky."

"I know what I'm doing, Rick. That's why I do this."

"You've gotta be more careful. When we thought you died... you don't know what it did to Carl."

"And you do?" I reply, glaring at him. He was off somewhere in the prison, not with Carl, where he should have been. "You don't know nothin'. You weren't there for him." I toss the bandages at him, growling, "Do it yourself, asshole."

I turn and walk out of the room, pausing only a moment to pick up my crossbow from the ground before heading downstairs. I almost step on the mat, lost in thought about what was said between the leader and I. I step over it, ducking under the makeshift spears and around walker traps as I make my way out onto the street. "Clary?" Carl calls.

I turn at the sound of his voice to find Carl and Michonne taking the caged animals from the walker traps. I make my way over to them, watching. "The hell are you doing?"

"Bait," Michonne answers. I look at Carl, waiting for a briefing. He says, "Just follow us."

I grab skateboards with them, and follow the two to a restaurant down the street. "Is this where it's at?" I ask Carl, remembering he said something about a picture for Judith. "The picture?"

He nods, and Michonne lays the skateboards out in a row, setting the cages on them. I look around, realizing that I left my knife in the wall next to Morgan. "Shit. Anyone got an extra knife?"

"Where's yours?" Carl asks, but hands me his.

I scratch the back of my head. "Um, it may or may not be in the wall next to Morgan?"

"Clary," Carl sighs.

"I kinda went Wolverine on him. And a little Tom Cruise."

"Are we gonna get this done?" Michonne asks.

"Let's shoot this shit," I say, pulling the doors open. She pushes the skateboards inside, distracting the walkers. Carl leads the way inside, Michonne and I covering him. We sneak through the building, leaning around a corner to check if the coast is clear. The walkers are distracted by the animals. Carl climbs up on a barstool, reaching for a picture of his family, while Michonne and I keep watch. Just as he's about ready to climb down, a walker appears from behind the bar, growling. It grabs Carl's ankle, and Michonne and I plunge our weapons into its head at the same time. We remove our blades, careful not to make a sound. I set the walker's head on the bar, and Carl climbs down.

We hurry back to the front of the building, but we're cut off half way by a squeaking. We freeze, thinking at first that it's the floorboards. Then we see it. A rat has been freed from one of the cages around the corner, and it's right in front of us. The walkers follow it, and Michonne pushes Carl behind her while grabbing my arm. I throw down a stool, tripping some of the walkers, and pull my arm out of her grasp, remembering the way Will used to grab my arm. She takes me by the wrist, pulling me with her as we run for the kitchen. Walkers appear, blocking the exit. Carl shoots one while I stab another, and he points towards the other side of the restaurant. Try for the door. Michonne partially decapitates a third walker, then stabs a fourth without turning around. She follows us to the front of the building, hissing, "Go, go go!"

"It was a nice first date and all, but you're not my type," I say quickly, overturning a table to separate Carl and I from a walker. "I like living guys."

Michonne pushes us out of the restaurant, causing Carl to drop the picture in the progress. "No!" he cries as Michonne closes the door. "I've gotta go back in!"

"Where is it?" I ask him.

"We have to go back! We have to! I have to! It's the only one left!"

"Carl! Where is it?" I repeat. "I'll get it."

"No," Michonne says. "Not like this. I don't know you, I get that. But can you do something for me? Wait here and keep your girlfriend safe."

"I can help," Carl insists.

"We can," I correct.

"No," Michonne says. "No more bullshit. You two wait here, and that's how we get it done."

After a few moments, Carl gives in, moving to keep the doors closed. I stand beside him while Michonne sneaks in the back. Carl looks over at me, softly saying, "Clarissa—"

"Clary," I say, immediately cutting him off. "I'm not Clarissa."

"Clary," he corrects. "Back in there, when she grabbed your arm… Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I answer without hesitating.

"Clary… You gotta let people in. Let them take care of you."

"Everyone that I have has ended up dead or worse."

"Look at me, Dixon," Carl says, taking my hands. "Your dad, he's dead, okay? He will never touch you again. That bastard is gone. But the rest of us, we're not going anywhere. So you gotta let us in. Now, are you okay?"

"I'm not okay, Carl. I'm tired of this. Of the fighting, the death. Most of all, remembering him. I can't sleep. What the Governor did that night, he brought it all back. I finally accepted the fact that no one would do that to me again because the person that did was dead. And then what he did, it was worse than Will. And Merle let it happen."

Carl wraps his arms around me, barely touching me as if afraid of frightening me. I don't hesitate to wrap my arms around him, closing my eyes as I rest my forehead on his chest. Carl tightens his hold, resting his head on mine. "I got you, Clars," he says.

We both jump back, drawing our weapons, as the walkers pound on the doors. I let out a sigh of relief when I realize that it's not going to open, and we look over as Michonne arrives around the corner. "Did you get it?" Carl asks.

Michonne hands him the picture, and he looks down at it, smiling softly. "I just thought Judith should know what her mom looked like." He looks up at the samurai before us. "Thank you."

As we walk away from the cafe, Michonne admits, "I was gonna go back in anyways." She pulls out a multicolored wooden cat from behind her back. "It's too damn gorgeous. I couldn't leave it."

Carl and I look at each other, slowing our pace as Michonne continues on ahead. I whisper, "That's the ugliest damn cat I've ever seen."

"You said it," he agrees.

"By the way," I tell him. "I might've pissed your dad off again."

"Again?" he inquires with a sigh. "Dammit, Clary."

"Hey, he tried to tell me what to do. What'd you expect me to do?"

Carl shrugs as we reach the street corner. "We're getting the crib now. Coming?"

I shake my head. "Better go make sure Morgan and your dad didn't kill each other." I hand him his knife back, telling him, "Stay safe, Cowboy."

"Always," he replies, walking off with Michonne. I climb up the stairs, and the two turn to me as I reach the room. "You're back," Rick observes.

"I left my knife," I say, pulling it out of the wall.

"You've got good aim," Morgan compliments. "What was that, the Wolverine tactic?"

"You've got to the count of three, bub," I answer, grinning. I look over to find Rick staring at me. "What? Wolverine's awesome. Carl and 'chonne should be gettin' back soon. Need me to take anything down to the car?"

Rick gestures across the room to a group of gun bags. I nod, picking up two and taking them downstairs. Rick joins me a moment later, and we turn to see Carl and Michonne arriving, carrying the crib between them. "I was just getting ready to look for you," Rick tells them.

"Sorry," Carl replies.

"It's alright. You're here now."

Carl looks at the blood on Rick's shirt, asking, "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Rick answers.

Carl turns to me. "Clary?"

"Hey, I said I pissed him off!" I cry. "I didn't stab him!"

As we follow them out of the walker traps, Michonne gestures back to Morgan, inquiring, "He's okay?"

"No, he's not," Rick says.

"Wait," Carl says, and we stop. "Hey."

"Carl," Rick starts.

"Morgan," Carl calls. "I had to shoot you. You know I had to, right? I'm sorry."

Morgan walks over to us, looking at Carl. "Son, don't ever be sorry."

He turns and goes back to his walkers caught in the traps. It takes us multiple trips to get all the weapons, including a new crossbow for Daryl and lots of arrows. Carl and I climb in the back as Rick and Michonne get the rest of it, and I don't hesitate to lean into Carl when he wraps his arm around me. He chuckles softly when I yawn, and I mutter, "Shut up. I'm tired."

"Then go to sleep, Clars," Carl replies, kissing my forehead. "I'm right here. I'll wake you up when we get back, okay?"

"That sounds great," I murmur, curling up beside him. I open my eyes when doors close, signaling that Rick and Michonne are in, and I'm asleep before we're even out of King County.