DISCLAIMER: I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

WARNINGS: Rated T for language, violence, gore, and some ouchies.

The Governor drummed his fingers impatiently against a windowsill as he looked out. It was passed sunset and therefore passed the time he told his men to return. He'd left a group scattered around the prison that were to suppose to watch its movements and report back. He assumed Rick would immediately organize a search party and pick up the trail. If they came out running with guns blazing, he wanted to have some warning before a fight. He had gathered more men, but his camp was not entirely secure and Rick's people had proven to be good shots: he could use them as snipers and slowly starve them out if he wanted to. To counter that, the Governor had stationed several additional scouts in the woods nearby with radios to call in anything suspicious. So far, the radios were silent and his men were late which was irritating and it prompted him to send Martinez back to the prison lookouts.

He continued with his vigilance at the window with a gun on his lap, when a set of headlights broke through the darkness: Martinez had returned. The truck stopped and Martinez got out and walked towards the Governor's cabin.

"Well?" asked the Governor, meeting Martinez at the door.

"Nothing. They haven't come out," said Martinez. "They've been watching the prison all afternoon and no one has budged."

The Governor stared at the man, his head tilted slightly.

"They haven't done anything?"

"No. Apparently they assembled outside for a while and Rick arrested one of his people—handcuffed him and took him inside. I guess they blamed him; no one was able to tell who it was. When it got dark, they put two women on guard and that's been it."

"You're sure?" asked the Governor.

"Oh yeah. I checked with all the scouts. They've got to be inside planning something unless they've snuck out through a tunnel we don't know about," said Martinez. "I don't get it: I thought Rick was supposed to come right out after the kids."

"He was," said the Governor sharply. "This changes things."

"What do you want to do?"

"What I've wanted all along," said the Governor thoughtfully. "I want Rick to break, I want the prison, I want everyone in it dead, and I want Michonne to die horribly."

"That's a lot…what if Rick doesn't want to leave the prison? Do we attack it?"

"No. From what Mason said they've fortified it and gotten more guns. They'd also be protected from the biters that our shooting would bring in: they still hold the advantage," said the Governor.

"So we keep waiting?" asked Martinez.

The Governor smiled darkly.

"Go get Carl. I think he can help us out here."

Martinez's eyes narrowed at the Governor's request and then he left to round up the boy. While he waited, the Governor poured himself a drink and returned to the chair by the window. He sipped on his whiskey and thought over the situation with the prison.

Carl was marched in a moment later looking somewhat confused. Martinez drew up a chair for him and set it in front of the Governor's. Carl sat down and crossed his arms, and wiped all fear off his face.

"Carl, I seem to have a problem," announced the Governor, "and it's one that I think you can help me with."

"Anything," Carl answered eagerly.

The Governor smiled and looked at the boy. He was surprised when he didn't recoil or shrink away as so many of his men did. Perhaps the kid was more serious about joining him than he thought.

"It seems your father doesn't want to play my game. I thought he'd leave the prison to come after you, your sister, and Beth, but apparently I was mistaken. I guess he doesn't care about you as much as I thought he would."

"Guess not," said Carl lowly. "There's been a lot of that there lately."

The Governor leaned in closer to Carl as he spoke, "What will it take Carl? I know the prison will fall apart once he leaves it. So what will it take to get your father to come outside?"

Carl remained still in his chair as he debated what to say to the Governor. He knew he was being tested and it could spell life or death for him. The Governor was a smart man and he'd be able to tell if he was lying.

"You'll have to take someone he values more than us," said Carl cautiously. "He obviously doesn't need or care about us. We're just kids to him."

"Who will it take?" asked Martinez.

"I guess someone like Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Daryl, or Tyreese. Those are the ones he's closest too," answered Carl.

The Governor sat back in his chair and looked up at Martinez.

"We've dealt with them before, I know what they look like," said Martinez.

"Good," said the Governor. "Then I want you to go back there and capture the first one of them that walks out the prison by themselves. I want it done quietly though and I don't want a big scene made out of it. It will hurt them more to know we've been slowly picking them off. Go set up along the trail you used. If Rick is holding them inside, eventually Glenn, Maggie, or Daryl will get fed up and come out on their own. You take them then."

"Preference on alive or dead?"

"Alive," chuckled the Governor. "Where's the fun if they're already dead?"

Daryl was jolted awake by the sound of his cell door closing. He sat up in the pitch black cell hoping he just might be able to discern the form of anyone in it with him.

"Rick?" he asked fearfully. Daryl then waited and listened for a reply.

After a time, he could only distinguish the sound of his breathing and decided Rick had probably stopped by and checked on him then left. Sighing, Daryl laid back down but sat right back up: His hands were no longer cuffed behind him but in front of him. He also realized that when he had woken up, he had been on his back meaning Rick had come in, moved him, and re-cuffed him without him being aware of it.

The thought of someone being able to maneuver him around so much without waking him was rather disturbing. Daryl was either more tired than he realized or being confined to the cell was messing with his head. At least his hands were in a better position and he could eat and drink when he needed to. He felt around for the bowl of food and cup of water that'd been left for him and he satisfied his growing hunger. He wasn't too hungry which meant he hadn't been locked away for that long—maybe only a few hours. Surely that was enough time for the Governor to send some sort of ransom letter for the kids. They were probably discussing it and Rick would be back soon to let him out for good. Until that time though, Daryl tried to settle himself and concentrate on how to get even with the Governor once and for all.

Rick waited on the other side of the door and listened until he heard the quiet sounds of Daryl eating diminish. He was surprised he'd been able to get in and out without waking Daryl when he was usually such a light sleeper. It was after midnight when Rick stopped by meaning Daryl had been locked up for about eight hours. He decided it wasn't fair to leave him handcuffed in such a poor position and wasn't going to make him eat out of his bowl like a dog. At the end of the day, Daryl was a decent guy who made some poor decision and unfortunately had to be punished for them.

Rick returned to the cellblock feeling a mild bit better about the Daryl situation. Once the Governor sent over the ransom note, he'd let Daryl out. Whatever Daryl decided at that point—whether he wanted to strike out on his own or stay and help—was up to him.

The people from Woodbury had been moved into C block and everyone gathered in the main part. They had too few able bodies to protect the two cell blocks and Karen and Sasha had been posted on guard at either end of the prison. Everyone, even the children, were then armed with a gun or knife and told to use them if the Governor showed up.

Rick walked by his cell and briefly looked in to make sure Daryl's crossbow and gun were still locked up. He had also reclaimed all the spare sets of keys and placed those behind the bars as well so there was no chance that Daryl would be let out before it was time.

"How long are you going to keep him locked up for Rick?" asked Hershel. The older man's eyes were puffy and red to match those of Maggie whonhad been crying for a decent part of the night.

"Until I no longer want to shoot him," said Rick, stopping near the group.

It might have been a little exaggerated but Rick wanted to get his point across: Daryl was in trouble and he wasn't going to tolerate it.

"He is our best tracker," said Carol. "He could be out there and leading us to the Governor."

"We are not going anywhere," said Rick. "No one is leaving the prison grounds. The Governor obviously wants something and we have to wait until he tells us what that is. I don't want to jeopardize the lives of Beth, Judith, and Carl by running after him."

"I'm sorry Rick, but I don't agree with this at all," said Glenn as he stepped forward clutcrifles pistol. "We could still use Daryl as another set of eyes and gun against the Governor. What if he attacks tonight? It's going to take all of us to fight him off: We need Daryl."

"I want him locked up until the Governor makes his move, then Daryl can come out."

"What if he doesn't? What do we do then?" asked Glenn callously. "He doesn't follow the same rules that you think he does. Have you considered that?"

"He's going to—"

"And what if he doesn't?" interjected Glenn. "What if this is another one of his sick games and he only wants us to suffer? What if he never sends a ransom letter? Are you going to let him keep Carl, Judith, and Beth forever?"

"No—"

"Then cut the crap and let Daryl out. We have a trail to go off of…Daryl is the only one with a general idea of where the Governor is hiding so let him out."

Glenn glared fiercely at Rick, challenging his orders. The loss of Beth had unhinged Maggie. She had gone to her bed and curled up on it and refused to move, talk, or eat. Hershel was barely keeping it together and had spent hours staring blankly at a bible trying to find whatever sense he could in it. They were his family and no one was allowed to mess with his family.

Rick shook his head and squared his shoulders.

"My decision stands: No one leaves the prison…no one lets Daryl out. Anyone who does anything to put us or the kids at risk will be put in a cell next to Daryl," said Rick. "Now I suggest we all try to get some sleep. Karen and Sasha are on watch and the Governor won't make another move until morning."

"What if he wants us to give up the prison?" asked a man from Woodbury.

"We give it up," Rick said simply. "We do whatever the Governor wants to get the kids back."

Across the room, Michonne stiffened slightly. She had a feeling one of the things the Governor was going to request would be her. If Rick had nearly handed her over once before, he could do it for real. It was as simple as a math problem: Three lives for one. She knew she was a valued warrior but that was nothing compared to how much the kids meant to Rick, Hershel, Maggie, and Glenn. The people from Woodbury would go against her as well if it meant avoiding another fight with the Governor. She noticed too that while Rick had no problem looking anyone in the eye, he seemed to avoid her gaze. Her sentence sealed, Michonne broke from the group and returned to her cell.

Glenn continued to silently question everything Rick had come up with. His very name had become synonymous with ridiculous. Arresting Daryl…waiting for the Governor…it was all wrong. He saw Michonne leave and go to her cell and he briefly considered going after her and ask her opinion on it all. She had been about the only one to stand up for Daryl as well and if he could get her on his side, it might be enough to overthrow Rick. Instead, however, Glenn went back to his cell and sat on the bed next to Maggie.

She was no longer a quivering mess; her energy having been spent and tears no longer flowed from her swollen eyes. Glenn rubbed her shoulder and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. Maggie's eyes flicked open and she tilted her head slightly towards Glenn.

"Anything?" she asked weakly.

"No," sighed Glenn. "Rick still has his head up his ass. For a man that was once a sheriff, he folds under pressure. We should have been out there hours ago. This is bullshit." Glenn slammed his hand against the bed which made Maggie cringe. "I'm sorry but he's wrong," whispered Glenn.

"We can't do anything," said Maggie, "and the Governor has Beth. If he..."

"He won't," said Glenn sternly. "He won't touch her. I'm not going to let him."

Maggie sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.

"Glenn, what are you thinking? It's too dangerous to go after him by yourself and at night…"

Glenn looked over his shoulder and then moved in closer to Maggie.

"Rick is back knocking at the door of crazy town so I think it's best that you don't know. There's a chance it won't work and I'll end up down in solitary with Daryl. Don't worry, I'll be safe," he added quickly when Maggie's face collapsed. "I might need you to cover for me though…if anyone asks say I'm out patrolling the yard."

"Glenn…" she pleaded.

"I have to do this," he said and gave her a kiss before standing and going to the door. "I'll be safe."

Glenn was done. He left Maggie's cell and immediately went up to Michonne's. He didn't bother knocking at the door and barged right in. He caught Michonne by surprise and not surprisingly, then had a katana inches from his throat.

"Just me," he swallowed and Michonne lowered her blade. "I need your help with something."

"What it is?" she asked, her interest peaked.

"Every minute the Governor has the kids is a minute too many. We don't know what he's doing to them and we don't know what he wants. I can't stand to see Maggie and Hershel like this any longer. We have the start of a trail and Daryl knows roughly where the Governor's camp may be."

"You want to break Daryl out," Michonne guessed.

"I want to break Daryl out," confirmed Glenn. "It's bullshit that the one most likely to track the kids down is locked in a cell."

"I agree," said Michonne.

"Rick just went and checked on Daryl and I don't think he'll stop by again until the morning. If we can get him out now, it should be enough time for him to pick up the trail before Rick notices he's missing…do you have any experience picking locks?"

Michonne just simply smiled at Glenn and picked up one of her bags. She shouldered it and motioned for them to leave.

The group on the first floor had broken apart and drifted to their cells and other sleeping areas. Glenn and Michonne were able to sneak by without attracting any attention and slipped off towards the tombs.

"I think he's in this one…" said Glenn as they came to one of many similar looking cell doors. Michonne raised the slit in the door and looked through with her flashlight. The thin beam of light was cast in and landed on Daryl who was leaning against the far wall with his head between his knees. Michonne closed the slit and brushed Glenn aside. She opened her bag and pulled out several small wires that had been straightened from paper clips and inserted them into the lock. While she worked, Glenn went back to the end of the corridor to alert her if he saw Rick coming.

"Glenn," he heard her whisper a few minutes later and she motioned towards the cell door. Thrilled that she had managed to pick the lock, he rushed back and opened the door for them.

Daryl remained motionless as Michonne shined the flashlight on him. She held back as Glenn approached knowing Daryl wouldn't want to feel so cornered in the small cell.

"You just going to sit there all night?" asked Glenn. "Or you want to get the kids back?"

Daryl's head snapped up and he squinted through Michonne's light.

"Glenn? Michonne? What the hell are ya doin' here?"

"Breaking you out," Michonne said lightly.

"I thought ya were Rick," said Daryl.

"Rick doesn't know we're here and we need it to stay that way," said Glenn. He reached down and helped Daryl stand and frowned when he saw Daryl was still handcuffed. "Michonne, do we have time to get these off?"

"Easier than a prison door," said Michonne. She handed Glenn her flashlight to hold so she could work. Daryl studied every move Michonne made and copied it to his memory for future reference in case he would need it again. She had Daryl's wrists free quickly and he rubbed at the red marks the handcuffs had left behind.

"That's great," he said and almost thought about giving both of them a hug. "Now what's the plan?"

"I know you can track at night and if you go now, you might be able to find the Governor's camp by morning and come back. If we know for sure where he is, we can convince Rick to launch an attack," said Glenn. Daryl nodded and looked around the cell for his crossbow. "Rick locked your gun and bow up in his cell."

"Course he did," grumbled Daryl.

"You can take my gun," offered Glenn. "We'd come with you but it'd be too obvious if we both went missing. You'll be able to move faster and attract few walkers if it's just you."

"Yeah," agreed Daryl, taking Glenn's gun. He was handed a spare clip for it and shoved it deep in his pocket. It wasn't his preferred weapon but it'd work against the living and fortunately Rick left him his knife to use on the dead. "Where are y'all gonna be?"

"I'm going to patrol the yard. If you get into any trouble, don't hesitate to use the gun. I'll be able to hear it and we'll come after you. Michonne is going to be back in the cells with an eye on Rick."

"Two eyes," corrected Michonne. "I'll try to keep him from finding out you're gone for as long as possible."

"Got it," huffed Daryl. He took the flashlight from Glenn and a bottle of water from Michonne before running down the hall.

Daryl wove his way through the buildings and emerged at the back of the prison. He spotted the outline of someone up in the guard tower and pressed himself against a wall. There was a half moon in the clear sky so it was more than enough light to see with. He watched the person for several minutes and waited until it looked like they were at the far side of the observation deck before dashing forward. He moved from shadow to shadow and swiftly through the hole in the fence and to the safety of the trees.

"Real observant," he mumbled with a shake of his head. Daryl wasn't about to turn the flashlight on so close to the guard tower and he had to wait for his eyes to become adjusted to the lower light of the forest. He concentrated on picking up the different noises around him and for anything that might be dangerous—living or dead. Feeling quite confident nothing was around in his immediate area, Daryl crouched low and moved slowly. He knew there was a small path that he appeared to be on and let it guide him.

When he was confident he had traveled far enough from the prison, Daryl turned the light on and aimed it at the ground. He saw several sets of tracks leading towards the prison and then away from it and figured they were the ones made by Glenn, Tyreese, Karen, and Michonne meaning he had to go farther to find anything not made by the prison. Daryl kept walking until he found the area where Carl's hat and gun had been discovered. He gave the place a once over and finding nothing else, moved quickly on.

Something about the trail bothered Daryl and he couldn't quite place the feeling. He'd spent months in the woods hunting and he had never once come across it. He generally went hunting out the front gates and stayed that direction which was why he probably missed it.

"Real observant," he said to himself.

Daryl kept walking and finally came across something useful: a fallen walker. He grimaced as he bent down to inspect it and dipped his fingers into the blood coming from its head. His fingers came away dry meaning the thing had been killed a while ago. It also meant someone had killed it and they had been on the trail. Satisfied he was still going in the right direction, Daryl picked up his pace.

He was almost jogging when the beam of his flashlight fell upon a second walker lying down across the path in front of him. He stepped near it and leaned over to inspect it like the first: it too had been killed by a blow to the head. Daryl ran his fingers across its blood and immediately tensed: it was wet. The skin on Daryl's neck began to crawl and he got an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Whoever had used the trail had used it recently for the blood to still be wet. They'd been there within the hour.

Daryl calmed his breathing and ignored his throbbing heartbeat to focus on the forest. He listened for anything that didn't sound animal or walker made and stayed crouched where he was. He thought he heard something but couldn't quite place the noise. He waited to hear it again and was rewarded with a squeak and the bushes next to him shook. Daryl raised Glenn's pistol in its direction but lowered it when a small raccoon came out of the bush. It sat back on its legs to look and sniff at Daryl then turned and went the other direction.

Sighing with relief, Daryl straightened up.

"Kinda cute," said a man's voice to Daryl's left. Daryl spun and aimed his gun and light in the direction but found no target.

"Been feeding it for the last hour…we were just getting friendly," said a second voice to Daryl's right.

Daryl jerked and shone his flashlight around but whoever had spoken was still hiding.

"I'm gonna kill ya, ya assholes," he growled, daring one of them to step forward.

"No you're not," said a third voice from directly behind him.

Before Daryl could properly react, something collided with his right elbow that shot a deep pain through his entire arm. His hand released the gun and it fell to the ground. Daryl tried to draw his knife but the pain was replaced with a tingling numbness that made him unable to control his fingers.

"Miss me?" asked the third voice and Daryl turned around just enough to catch a fist in the side of his jaw. The hit pushed him back and he felt himself being steadied by two sets of hands that were not friendly. He tried to pull away but they closed in on him and several additional flashlights turned on.

"No I didn't miss ya," he snarled at Martinez and again tried to get away from the men restraining him. "I'm pretty sure I stabbed ya and yer Governor must've fixed ya up."

"He did," Martinez said and patted his right shoulder where Daryl had once stabbed him. "I'll admit; you got me pretty good. I still have your knife and I always said I should return it to you."

Daryl didn't like the sound of that one bit and he thrashed against those holding him. He tried sinking to the ground but a fifth hand reached into his hair and yanked him back. Martinez stepped forward and Daryl's eyes followed his hand as it reached for the knife at his belt. He raised it from its sheath and Daryl recognized it as his own. He tugged against the arms holding him and a sixth hand clamped down over his mouth. Martinez closed the final distance between he and Daryl and in one fluid motion, thrust the knife into Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl tried to yell out but the hand over his mouth muffled his pained cry. The knife was pressed in deeper until it made Daryl weak in the knees. He closed his eyes and whimpered as it hit bone and stopped.

"Like I said…I wanted to return it to you." Martinez smirked and released the knife, leaving it embedded in Daryl's shoulder.

A/N: Hehehe cliffhanger alert! Oh and just so you know, I'm not the type of writer that allows characters to be fine five minutes after being shot or stabbed. Just putting that out there. Thanks for all the love guys!