The Crossroads

by Carrot Top

Jenna Matthews lost everything and everyone to the apocalypse. Alone and with nowhere else to go, she kept pushing for Fort Benning, hoping her brother would still be alive and be waiting for her there. But when a twist of fate lands her in a new group, she finds herself on an entirely new journey full of all kinds of unexpected twists and turns. Slow burn! Set in seasons 1-3.

63. Chapter 63

This is a big chapter y'all. Not just because of everything that goes down, but also because it's a long, long chapter. Seeing as this is the end, though, I can't bring myself to feel sorry about it. TV shows have extra long finales, right? Well, think of this as the finale chapter!

Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Walking Dead, only the OC's.

---

Chapter 63

Sasha paced back and forth by the border wall of Woodbury, her eyes scanning her surroundings constantly. Periodically she would stop to look up at the sun, and anytime she thought she heard someone coming she would peer expectantly in that direction, hoping it was the woman they were supposed to be meeting with. But when the sound proved to be nothing at all, she would let out a frustrated sigh and resume wearing a path into the ground.

"It's been too long," she finally said, her eyes cutting over to Tyreese.

He was leaning against the wall they would soon be escaping over, his demeanor calm, but his eyes betraying a hint of concern. "She'll come."

Sasha really wanted to believe that, but there was no denying the bad feeling that weighed in her gut. The Governor had rounded up his troops and left for the grain silo ten minutes ago, which meant it was time to put their own plans into motion. They needed to get to the car, which Andrea had stashed away and loaded down with weapons, and get to the prison to help with the fight before the Governor sent his cronies there next. Andrea was crucial to the plan – she was the one who knew where the car was, after all, and she was the one who had set this whole thing up.

But the woman was a no show. They had a small window of time to get to the prison in the first place, and with each minute that passed where the blonde didn't turn up, that window shrunk smaller and smaller. The longer it took for her to show up, the more Sasha began to worry that maybe something bad had happened to her.

What if she had gotten caught doing whatever it was she had been up to last night? What if she had gotten herself killed?

She didn't know Andrea well by any means, but she still didn't like the idea of her being dead. Andrea had helped them a lot these last few days. Without her, none of the things that had happened so far would have been possible. And without Andrea, none of the things they still had to do were going to be possible, either.

Sasha stopped pacing again, her shoulders tense as she shook her head vigorously. "Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut."

Tyreese sighed. "She's just running a little late. We should give it a little more time."

"We don't have time, Ty," Sasha countered sharply. "She was doing some risky shit last night. Anything could have happened to her. She could have gotten caught, or…she could have gotten hurt." Sasha chose to say hurt instead of the other, worser, alternative. "We need to look for her. She might need our help."

"And what about the prison? We're supposed to help them, too," Tyreese pointed out. "We just gonna leave them to deal with the Governor on their own?"

Sasha shrugged helplessly. Of course she wanted to help the prison, of course she wanted to help Sam – helping them was the whole reason they'd stayed in Woodbury in the first place. But they were stuck at the moment, without any weapons and without a vehicle, and way too far away to make it to the prison on foot before shit hit the fan.

Andrea, however, was probably still in Woodbury somewhere. The prison was too far out of their reach to do anything at the moment, but Andrea was not.

"We can't get there without Andrea, not fast enough to make a difference, anyway," she said. "We're here now, and if she's in trouble, we're the only people that can help her. I don't think we have a choice."

Tyreese looked toward Woodbury again, eyebrows furrowed with contemplation, before he pushed away from the wall and came to stand before her. "Alright," he said. "Where do we start?"

They agreed to split up so they could cover more ground more quickly. Sasha decided to go to the water tower they had met at the night before, just in case they had misunderstood their instructions and had gone to meet her at the wrong place. Tyreese would go to the next logical place they could think of – the infirmary. If she was hurt, if someone had done something to her, there was a chance that she would be there.

They parted ways at the main road and went on their separate missions. Sasha noticed as she made her way through town that there weren't as many people out and about as usual. This war had left everyone fearful and on edge, and as soon as the Governor had left with his cronies, a lot of people had retreated inside to the safety of their homes, as if they expected the enemy to show up and start shooting up the place at any moment.

They had no idea that Rick and the others had no interest in harming the innocent civilians of Woodbury. They had no idea that the real enemy was the very man that had been leading them this whole time.

Sasha made it to the water tower quickly enough, hoping beyond hope that Andrea would be there, annoyed that they were late but at least alive and okay. Unfortunately, what she did find there was only disappointment. There were a couple of kids there, hanging out under the tower and minding their own business. There was nobody else.

Pressing her lips together, she turned back around and went back the direction she had come, keeping her eyes peeled for a flash of blonde hair anywhere. She even stopped to poke her head into a few places, just to be thorough. But there were no signs of Andrea anywhere.

She finally went to the infirmary to wait for Tyreese. She wasn't there for long before her brother reemerged, and she could tell just by the expression on his face alone that his search had been as unsuccessful as hers.

"Nothin'," he said as he came to stand in front of her. "Nobody's seen her."

Sasha nodded slowly, her eyes turning to the few, random people moving around Woodbury. "She's got a place here," she mused aloud. "Somebody must know where she lives. Maybe she's there?"

Tyreese frowned a little, his eyes doubtful, but he still nodded in agreement.

They set off again, this time stopping various people to see if anybody knew where Andrea's apartment was. After asking several passers-by, and wasting what felt like a lot of precious time, they were finally directed toward one of the brick buildings situated not too far from the main gate. They headed that way, still trying to act as normal and inconspicuous as possible, and made their way into the building. After talking to a few of the residents, they finally found themselves in front of Andrea's door on the third floor.

Sasha knocked twice, while Tyreese looked left and right, keeping an eye out for anyone that might be lurking nearby. When there was no answer, Sasha knocked again, this time a little bit louder.

"Andrea?" she called through the door.

When there was still no response, she shared a frown with Tyreese. He motioned her aside so he could press his ear to the door, listening for signs of movement in the apartment. He then grabbed the handle and gave it an experimental twist.

To their surprise, it was unlocked.

They shared another look, then Tyreese pushed the door open. Sasha braced herself and followed him inside, unsure what they were about to find, but half-expecting that they were about to discover Andrea's dead body in her own apartment.

There wasn't a body – Andrea's or otherwise – inside, which was a relief for all of about two seconds. Because what they did find painted a frightful picture.

The apartment was trashed. Furniture was turned over, there was broken glass on the floor, even the curtains covering the blinds were ripped and askew. It was obvious something had gone down there, that there had been a fight of some sort. When Sasha glanced back at the door and saw a big smear of blood on the wall right next to it, that only confirmed that something had definitely gone wrong for Andrea.

"Shit," Tyreese muttered, his eyes fixed on the same blood stain. "You think it was the Governor?"

"If not him, then someone who works for him," Sasha said with a deep frown. "She must have slipped up. Or maybe he was gunning for her all along. Either way, she's definitely in trouble."

Tyreese went to the wall and touched some of the blood, feeling it between his fingertips. "Cold," he announced. "Must have happened last night after she left us." Then he looked at Sasha with furrowed brows. "She was supposed to call the prison this morning. She was supposed to keep them updated on the Governor's movements."

Sasha knew what he was getting at. If Andrea had gotten caught, then it was very likely that the prison hadn't heard a word about anything.

Right away, she knew what needed to be done. The prison needed to be warned, and maybe, if they were lucky, someone over there might be able to give them a clue as to where Andrea could be being held…assuming she was still alive.

"We need to get our hands on a walkie," Sasha said. "We need to call the prison."

---

Sam and Daryl had barely exchanged two words since they had set off from the prison. They were walking along the road at a purposeful pace, eyes peeled as they searched for any signs of Merle along the way. Daryl seemed confident they were on his trail, though how he could tell that by looking at a paved road, Sam had no idea. He kept pace though, eager to find the older Dixon simply so they could get this shit over and done with and get back to the prison, where they belonged.

Despite their lack of conversation, Sam had noticed Daryl shooting him looks every so often, ones filled with an unspoken question that he seemed unsure whether or not he should ask aloud. Sam did not acknowledge it, keeping his grip on his gun tight and his eyes alert, more concerned with making sure nothing caught them by surprise than whatever was bugging his sister's boyfriend. He figured if it was important, the man would come out with it eventually.

"Why'd you come with me?" Daryl finally asked out of the blue, making Sam look at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Why risk it for Merle?" he clarified.

Sam scoffed. "I'm not doing this for him," he answered bluntly. "I'm doing this for Jen."

Daryl frowned, as if confused. "Jenna?" he asked uncertainly.

Sam gave him a pointed look. "What kind of brother would I be if I let the man she loves get himself killed and I didn't even try to help?" he asked. He then shook his head, his expression turning grim. "She's lost so much already. Too much. I couldn't let you become another person for her to grieve over. So here I am, watching your back and making sure you don't end up dead."

Daryl looked as though he couldn't decide if he respected Sam for his loyalty to Jenna, or if he was offended at the insinuation that he needed a babysitter. "I can look after myself," he grunted.

"You wouldn't have made it this long if you couldn't," Sam agreed, eyes scanning the trees as they continued on. "But if worst comes to worst and we end up at that silo, I don't think even you could take on a dozen armed men and live to tell the tale."

Daryl shrugged a shoulder, probably knowing he made a point but not wanting to admit to it. "You know Jenna would be just as upset if somethin' happened to you," he pointed out. "I'm not the only one who's ass is on the line by bein' out here."

Sam knew that very well. That was the sole reason for the guilt that still sat like a rock in his stomach. He didn't want to think what it would be like for her if he didn't come back, especially after how much she had already mourned him when she thought he was dead. It was almost enough to have him rethinking his decision. The only reason he was able to convince himself to keep going was because he knew Daryl needed backup, and because he knew that he would get back to her, come hell or high water.

…and he hoped maybe he'd be able to take a few more cracks at Merle for suddenly deciding he wanted to be a hero and sending them on this stupid goose chase to begin with. A solid punch or two would definitely make this trip more worth it.

"Then I guess it's good I've got you here to watch my back and make sure I don't die," Sam finally said, smirking at Daryl.

Daryl huffed a little and shook his head, his eyes turning forward again. "How mad you think she is?" he asked and he almost sounded nervous to hear the answer.

Sam liked to think he knew his sister pretty well. In general, she was usually a level-headed person. But she had a temper lurking beneath the surface, and if there was anything he thought would absolutely set that temper off, it was him and Daryl going on this stupid mission they had appointed to themselves. "If the Governor doesn't kill us, she might," he answered with a shrug.

"Comforting," Daryl muttered.

Sam merely reached over to whack him on the back. "Just don't die. That should put you back in her good graces soon enough," he joked sarcastically.

Daryl's response was to give him an unamused glare.

The conversation died off after that as they continued on, stopping here or there to deal with any roamers that wandered into their path, but otherwise keeping to the same pace. Every so often they would come across a fresh walker kill, and while they couldn't know for sure that it was because of Merle's doing, they went off the assumption that it likely was. So far, it was the only physical evidence that they might've still been on his tail, because other than those few ambiguous clues, there hadn't been much to go off of yet.

As they passed through a ghost town of a neighborhood, Sam was beginning to doubt that they would find the elder Dixon at all. Even Daryl was beginning to look doubtful, his eyes searching around constantly, as if desperate to get a glimpse of anything that would help. But the man had gotten a decent head start on them, there were a lot of different paths he could have taken, and for all they knew, he might not have even been travelling by foot anymore. Hell, if it had been Sam in his shoes, he definitely would have found a car to hotwire and save himself all the cardio.

If Merle had gone that route, he could very well be at the grain silo already.

Sam cast a critical eye up at the sun, which looked extremely close to being in the noontime position. He then looked back to Daryl. "It's almost noon," he pointed out.

Daryl glanced that way, his anxiousness betrayed by the way he chewed at his lip. "I know."

Sam looked around again, then sighed. "I don't think we're gonna find him out here," he finally admitted aloud. When Daryl said nothing to that, just chewed on his lip even harder, Sam stared at him seriously. "How far are we gonna go with this?"

"What do you mean?" Daryl countered.

"We were trying to catch up with Merle before things got ugly. That's not gonna happen," Sam said matter-of-factly. "So now we either turn back and say we tried our best…" He paused, already disliking the words about to come out of his mouth. "Or we go to the grain silo and join in on whatever's about to go down there." He cocked an eyebrow at Daryl. "Somethin' tell me you're not the type to throw in the towel and quit."

Daryl immediately shook his head. "You can go back if ya want. But I came out here to stop my brother from gettin' killed. I ain't backin' down now."

It was the answer Sam had expected, even though it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Going up against the Governor and his men, out in the open, with only Daryl and maybe Merle to fight by his side sounded like signing his death certificate in his own blood. But he'd come with Daryl for a reason, and if Daryl was going to put himself in even more danger by going to that silo, then Sam couldn't turn back now.

So he sighed and glanced around, trying to see if there were any cars nearby that looked like they could be useful. If they were going to do this, then they needed to get to the silo as fast as they could, otherwise Merle would be dead before they got there and this would all be for nothing.

"Alright then," Sam said. "There's gotta be a dozen cars in this neighborhood. One of them has to be useful."

If Daryl was surprised that he'd decided to come with him, he didn't show it. He simply nodded, then they began the task of trying to find a car that looked like it would actually function.

Daryl went to one side of the street, peering into car windows and checking out the tires, giving each one he passed a quick inspection, while Sam did the same on the other side. It was slim pickings, though. Several of the cars had already been picked clean, either for parts or for gasoline, the open gas tanks glaring proof that people had siphoned whatever fuel they could find long ago. Others were just a straight up mess, with busted windows and broken doors, hinting to a more sinister story that Sam didn't even want to think about.

They moved methodically down the street and then turned onto the next one, where a few more cars had been abandoned. While Daryl checked out a truck parked in the driveway of a corner lot, Sam stopped and peered around, surveying their options.

It was then that he spotted a garage door that was only open about six inches, leaving a gap just small enough for maybe a cat or a dog to squeeze through. He went over to the garage and kneeled down on the pavement, bracing himself on a hand to look underneath the large metal door. When he saw tires just on the other side, he quickly stood back to his full height and wrapped a hand beneath the door. After two hard tugs, it lifted up with a loud creak, revealing a grey sedan in good condition.

Sam turned back and whistled loudly to catch Daryl's attention. The man came over, his eyes turning to the sedan as Sam nodded to it. "Whatcha think?"

"Best I've seen so far," Daryl said with a tinge of optimism.

Sam hung back while Daryl opened the driver's side door and leaned in, immediately getting to work hotwiring the car. Sam kept an eye out for roamers, despite the fact that the neighborhood had been quiet thus far. When the sound of an engine starting reached his ears, he looked back to the sedan and saw Daryl looking back at him with triumph.

"Thing's got half a tank of gas," he said.

Sam nodded once. "It'll do."

Daryl hopped in the driver's seat, Sam got in on the passenger side, and soon they were on the road again, zooming in the direction of the grain silo.

Suddenly the situation felt a hell of a lot more real, and a hell of a lot more dangerous, than it previously had. Sam checked his rifle for what was probably the hundredth time, making sure nothing was jammed and that he had plenty of ammo, knowing now that this was his lifeline. They were going into enemy territory to take on a shit load of lunatics with a lot of fire power – if his weapon failed on him, it would mean his death.

"I never said thank you," Daryl spoke up to break the silence, making Sam pause and look at him. "You don't owe Merle nothin'," he continued. "Don't think you owe me nothin', either. You could'a stayed…prob'ly shoulda stayed." Daryl paused, then nodded gratefully. "Thank you for havin' my back."

Sam inclined his head to the man. "You're welcome," he said sincerely. He then glanced out the window, thinking about what Daryl said, and decided that maybe the man wasn't entirely correct. "And if you ask me, I think I do owe you somethin'," he said, which made Daryl look at him questioningly. "You protected Jen when I couldn't. She's tough, she might've survived without you…but then again, she might not have. So consider this repayment for having her back all this time."

Daryl nodded slowly. His expression seemed to soften a little, the crease between his brows easing as he thought about the woman waiting back at the prison for them. "I was happy 'ta do it," he said. Then he snorted and shook his head. "Well…maybe not always happy. She's done some pretty stupid shit, here or there," he admitted, which made Sam smirk. "But I've always got her back," Daryl said a little more seriously. "No matter what."

"I know," Sam said. "Because you love her," he then added, giving the man a look that dared him to try to deny it.

Daryl glanced over at him, then nodded once. "I do."

Sam was happy to hear the man say it. And he actually was genuinely happy for his sister for finding a good man that treated her the right way.

Sam cleared his throat and looked to the window again, watching as the scenery flew past, knowing that each minute brought them closer to a battle that could very well mean the end for him. "In case things go sideways…you've got my approval when it comes to Jen," Sam told him. "I don't know if that means anything or not, but I wanted you to know anyway."

Daryl cleared his throat before answering. "It means somethin'." He fidgeted in his seat again, his expression very serious. "If I don't make it back, tell her I'm sorry. And just…watch after her for me, alright?" he said, giving Sam a meaningful look.

Sam nodded without hesitation. "And you'll do the same for me?"

Daryl nodded once in agreement.

There was nothing more to be said after that. They sped along the deserted roads, both of them silent and serious as they mentally prepared for what was about to come. Sam found himself thinking back to all the times he'd gone on risky missions when he'd been overseas, times where he hadn't known if he'd make it out alive but had still managed to survive nonetheless. Somehow it helped calm the nerves in his gut, brought him back to center and brought him back to sharp focus.

This was just like all those other times – going up against an enemy with a brother in combat. They were both smart, and they were both good fighters. They'd find a way to make it out of this.

Sam knew they were finally getting close when an unmistakable sound suddenly filled the air, making Daryl slam on the brakes.

Gunshots. A lot of them.

They shared a look, then Daryl gunned it, putting the pedal to the metal as he took off faster than he had been previously.

"Take this," Sam said, retrieving his spare pistol from its holster and passing it over to him. Daryl took it with a slightly questioning look. "That crossbow won't do shit against those guns," he said pointedly.

Daryl nodded and tucked it into his waistband, then went laser focused as he stepped on the gas even harder. Sam adjusted the rifle in his grip, holding it tight in his hands, watching with unblinking eyes as they turned a bend in the road a few short minutes later and the grain silo came into view.

The scene was chaos. There were men scattered around, some shooting at a wooden building, others trying to fight off the many walkers that were in the area. Between the deafening gunshots and the battle taking place, the Woodbury guys seemed too preoccupied to notice their car coming. They wouldn't go unnoticed for long though, so Sam shot Daryl another look.

"What's the plan here?" Sam asked as they closed in on the fight.

Daryl probably hadn't really had one, but he seemed to come up with one quick enough. "Bail out on the count of three."

Sam looked at him like he'd lost his mind for one split second, before shaking his head. "Fuck me," he muttered.

Their arrival had finally caught some attention, and some of the men were turning their weapons on them now. Sam ducked out of instinct as bullets pelted the front grill and whizzed past the car, trying to make himself smaller so that he wouldn't get hit before he even had a chance to get out of the damned car. Daryl hit the gas even harder, their car aimed right at where a cluster of guys were standing.

"One," Daryl began to count down, and Sam immediately grabbed for the handle. "two, THREE!"

Sam pushed the door open and jumped out, grunting loudly as he hit the ground and rolled more than once, gripping his gun with all his might so he wouldn't lose it. There was a loud CRASH, and when Sam finally stopped rolling and was able to see what had happened, it looked like the guys had managed to jump out of the way, leaving the car to barrel right into one of the Governor's vehicles. As if it was a scene straight out of a cheesy action flick, the sedan and the truck it had hit both went up in flames upon impact.

Sam ignored the aches and pains he could feel from his jump, knowing he had precious few seconds to get to some cover and start fighting before the enemy recovered. He scrambled to his feet, lifting his rifle and securing the butt into his shoulder, and ran to duck behind the large wheel of a tractor, bullets already nipping at his heels as he went. He lifted his head to look around as much as he dared, quickly spotting Daryl taking cover behind a stack of pallets, then ducked back down when more bullets whizzed over his head.

Good. At least Daryl was still alive.

Sam sucked in a breath, waiting for a break in the gunfire coming his way, then finally whipped around the tire and began firing back. Some of the bullets went into the roamers littering up the place, but he saw at least one man drop before he ducked back down. He waited again, leaned back around to fire back a few more rounds, then kept his head low as he moved to a new spot, knowing it was never a good idea to stay in one place for too long.

He skidded to a stop behind a tractor trailer this time, not too far from where Daryl was. Sam glanced around again and saw the door to a building nearby, which was where he instantly knew he wanted to go. A building meant walls, which meant a hell of a lot more cover than what they currently had. As bullets continued to zip through the area, accompanied by the occasional screams of men falling victim to the roamers, Sam made a few hand signals to Daryl to indicate that he was going to make a run for the door. Daryl nodded in understanding then popped up to start firing off shots.

With Daryl laying out cover fire, Sam bolted for the door. He burst his way inside, slamming through the door shoulder first. A few bullets followed him in, hitting the opposite wall and ricocheting off of metal equipment, but Sam was already out of the line of fire and taking up post at one of the shattered windows. He had a much better vantage point from here. He could see that several of the Woodbury fighters had fallen by now, which was definitely a good thing, but there were two people still missing from the equation.

There was no sign of Merle, and there was no sign of the Governor.

Sam noticed a buff black guy firing relentlessly at the spot where Daryl was hiding, forcing the man to crouch as low as he could to avoid getting hit. Sam immediately took aim at the man and fired, hitting him square in the chest. As the guy fell and was almost instantly set upon by roamers, Daryl looked to see what had happened to him and then turned his eyes to the window Sam was at.

"Move!" Sam ordered.

He laid out cover fire as Daryl began to run, taking down another Woodbury fighter in the process. Just as Daryl made it inside, bullets began to pelt all around the window Sam was positioned at as the remaining Woodbury guys figured out where he was. Sam moved away from the window, running further into the building and weaving his way through various equipment. He found another window on the opposite side of the building, where he took up his next position.

There were more guys over there, two of which he quickly dispatched of. He had another man in his sight when…

Shit.

Sam froze, his eyes widening as he realized it was Allen.

Allen had a gun in hand and was firing at the building next door, his features set with determination. He was the enemy now, that much was abundantly clear, but Sam hesitated to pull the trigger. Killing a random goon from Woodbury was one thing, but Allen? He knew Allen. They might not have been close, they might have only barely even been considered friends, but it was still Allen. They'd fought together. They'd talked and shared meals and watched each other's backs. Yes, Allen had taken a turn for the worst, and yes, the things he had done were unforgiveable.

But Sam just couldn't seem to fire that shot.

Allen moved out of sight before Sam could think about it any longer, heading off with another man toward the other building. Sam had noticed that there wasn't as much gunfire now, which meant that either the bulk of the enemy was dead, or they were switching up positions to get a better advantage. Oddly enough, he had just realized that he could hear very loud music coming from somewhere nearby, though he had no idea what the source of it was.

Sam straightened up at the sound of footsteps behind him, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Daryl.

"Most everyone's dead. Anyone who's left went off that way," he said as he arrived, pausing to look through the window. "Somethin' drew them over there."

Sam had a feeling he knew what might be the cause for that. "Merle?"

"Has to be," Daryl said, fidgeting on the spot anxiously.

Sam nodded, then looked around until he located another door. "Come on."

With their guns at the ready, they went to the door. Daryl grabbed the handle, counted down from three with his fingers, and whipped it open. Sam jumped out, swinging his rifle left and then right, then went forward toward the neighboring building with Daryl right beside him. There was not a door on this side of the structure, but there were a lot of windows, and as they drew closer, Sam heard noises coming from within the building.

They listened intently, hearing a lot of shouting and yelling, and a lot of banging around. It was the sound of a fight going on, he was sure of it. If Merle had been caught, then time was no longer on their side. Sam made a series of motions that indicated they should split up and try to find a way in, knowing they would cover ground more quickly that way. Daryl nodded and slunk off to the right, going around one side of the building – Sam went the other direction, going around the other side.

Sam crept along the wall, staying low, peering through every window as he went. Most of the windows were broken, so the sound of the fight was getting louder, and it sounded intense. A sudden, loud howl of agony made him freeze momentarily, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Sam then quickened his pace, his heart pounding in his chest.

He was passing yet another window when he froze again, this time because he had finally found the source of all the commotion.

His eyes landed on Merle first, bloody and battered and laboring for breath as he leaned heavily against some kind of equipment. A man that Sam could only assume was the Governor stood before him, breathing hard and looking crazed, splattered with blood but mostly uninjured. A few men, Allen included, stood nearby, watching in silence as the fight went down.

It looked like the fight was coming to an end though, and as the two men stared one another down, it wasn't hard to figure out who had lost.

"I ain't gonna beg," Merle spat, stubborn to the end as he accepted his fate. "I ain't beggin' you!"

The Governor grabbed for a pistol and took aim.

Sam did, too. But time seemed to slow down, and he once again hesitated with his finger hovering over the trigger.

He could kill the Governor now, and that would be the end of it – not just the war, but also his fight with Merle. If he took the shot right now, the prison would be safe and Merle would live to see another day.

But why should he save Merle's life? The man had killed his friends, had probably killed dozens more, and he'd proven time and time again that he was nothing but a piece of shit. Yes, he had come to the grain silo to try to take out the enemy and give the prison a fighting chance, and, though Sam would never say it aloud, it had been brave of him. But did one good deed negate a lifetime of bad ones?

Part of Sam wanted to let him die. It was what Merle deserved, and the world sure would be a better place without him in it.

Yet, if he let the Governor kill Merle and didn't stop him from doing it, he'd be partly responsible for the man's death. That made Jenna's voice ring through his head, reminding him that killing Merle would not bring back his friends or change anything that had happened in the past. And then he thought of Daryl, and remembered how much he seemed to really care about his dumbass brother, mistakes and all.

Suddenly, Sam made up his mind.

In a split second, he focused in on the Governor, rifle aimed right for his head, his finger going to the trigger. He was so intent, however, that he didn't notice the roamer coming up behind him until hands were grabbing him. Sam jumped at the unexpected contact, his gun jerking in the process, and his finger squeezed the trigger. There was a cry of pain and surprise from inside, followed by another gunshot and more shouts, but he was too preoccupied fighting off the rotting teeth coming at his neck to see what had happened.

Sam threw the walker off, killed it with a quick shot, then turned to aim his rifle back through the window. He looked just in time to see one of the Woodbury men aiming for him, but Sam fired off several rounds in quick succession, making the man tuck tail and run instead. Not wanting the men to get away, Sam rushed toward the front of the building, hearing more shouts and more gunfire. He spun around the corner, ready to fire again, but was immediately forced to jump back for cover as bullets hit the ground right at his feet. He waited until the gunfire stopped, then leaned back around to fight back.

But by that point the men from Woodbury were already clambering into a truck. The engine started and the truck tore away, fleeing the sight and kicking up a huge cloud of dust. Sam lowered his gun and watched them go, cursing with frustration.

He was pretty sure the Governor had gotten away alive.

With the fight over and the enemy gone, the adrenaline began to fade from Sam's body. A growl made him turn and shoot down a few roamers without even blinking, then he went into the building to see what had happened to Merle.

Daryl was already inside, kneeling down next to his brother, who was sprawled out on the floor. For a second, Sam was certain the man was dead. But then he heard a groan, and then Merle moved, and Sam let out a breath before quickly kneeling down on his other side.

He looked awful. His face was busted, the arm with his knife attachment was broken, and he was missing fingers on the one hand he had left. He also had a gunshot wound in the shoulder of his broken arm, which was bleeding freely.

"Fuck," Merle was groaning, his eyes shut and his face screwed up with pain.

"The fuck were you thinkin'?" Daryl snapped, looking as if he couldn't decide whether to be relieved that his brother was at least still alive, or pissed for nearly getting himself killed in the first place. "What'd you think was gonna happen?"

"This really the time?" Merle shot back weakly, cracking an eye open to glare at his younger brother.

"You're lucky you're alive to hear me bitchin', asshole!"

"Alright," Sam interrupted loudly to bring the argument to an end. "Save it for later."

He then began to maneuver Merle so that he was on his side, wanting to assess the damage of the bullet wound. Merle cried out with pain and opened his eyes to give Sam a nasty look. "What the hell're – "

"I'm looking to see if the bullet is still in your shoulder," Sam spoke over him. He got Merle on his side and yanked his shirt out if the way to look for an exit wound, which he found quickly. "Bullet went straight through," he announced. "You're lucky."

"Can't say anythin' about this feels lucky," Merle responded blandly as they lowered him back to his back. Even though they were gentle, he still hissed and groaned painfully.

Sam smirked humorlessly. "Better than getting shot in the face or the gut, dumbass."

Merle just sent him a look that lacked any real malice. "Guess I got you to thank for that," he said. "That shot you fired through the window got that prick in the arm, kicked him way off aim."

Sam huffed. "I was aiming for his head, but a roamer grabbed me right as I shot and threw me off."

"Damn good shot anyway," Merle said, the look on his face hard to read. "Not sure why ya stopped him from killin' me though."

Sam just pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Still wondering that myself."

Merle didn't say anything, just huffed out a half-hearted chuckle. He then seemed to do his best to muster his strength and began to sit up, wincing and cursing the whole way. "We just knocked out most of his best fighters. We should go after 'em. That fucker will be runnin' back to Woodbury. We can catch him before he gets there."

Daryl immediately stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "The only place we're goin' is to the prison." Merle opened his mouth to argue, but Daryl silenced him with a look. "We're goin' to the prison, now shut the fuck up and let us get you there."

Merle closed his mouth after that and nodded, putting up no further argument.

They got Merle on his feet. Daryl pulled Merle's unbroken arm over his shoulder to help him along, while Sam led the way to the car that Merle had apparently driven to the grain silo. He discovered that this was the source of the loud music, which was still blaring through the speakers. There were some roamers surrounding it, pawing stupidly at the car, but Sam quickly disposed of them. Once the car was clear, they helped Merle into the back seat, where the man laid out and closed his eyes.

The two of them got in the front seat. Daryl looked at Sam for a moment and gave a nod that clearly expressed his gratitude for saving Merle from certain death.

Sam just nodded back, and then they were on their way back to the prison.

---

Jenna stared through one of the windows of the generator room, wearing a bullet proof vest and gripping tightly to the strap of the rifle hanging from her shoulder.

It was a cruel form of torture, having nothing to do but to sit and wait. Wait for the walkie at her hip to crackle to life, either with the news from Woodbury she had been desperate to hear all day, or, more likely, with the warning that the Governor had finally showed up. Wait for any update on Daryl and Sam, so she could finally know if they were at least still alive. Wait for something – anything – to happen, because standing there in the eerie quiet was grating her already frayed nerves. Hell, at this point she'd even be happy to see Merle, just so she'd finally know something about what was going on.

"How's it look out there?"

Jenna blinked at the question and glanced back at Michonne. Rick had wanted everyone to partner up so that nobody was on their own during the fight to come, and she had been quite surprised when Michonne had asked her to be her wingman. Honestly, she had fully expected Michonne to ignore Rick's orders altogether and fly solo for the fight, as she was apt to do. Perhaps their talk the day before had made an impression on Michonne. Or, at the very least, it had made her feel comfortable enough with Jenna to want to fight side by side. After hearing so much about how good of a fighter Michonne apparently was, Jenna would admit that she felt slightly comforted by the woman's quiet, calm presence.

But only slightly.

"From what I can see?" Jenna looked back to the window, which didn't provide a great view of the courtyard or the road into the prison. "Still quiet."

Michonne nodded, and another silence fell between them. Jenna could feel the woman watching her though, and when she chanced a glance at her, she had a feeling that Michonne could tell there was more than one reason for her being so on edge.

"They good fighters?" Michonne asked to break the silence. When Jenna gave her a questioning look, she clarified herself. "Your guy and your brother."

Jenna pursed her lips and nodded. "Daryl's one of the best. And my brother's as tough as they come."

"I'm sure they'll come back then," Michonne said.

Jenna looked at her in surprise, taken aback by the fact that Michonne seemed to be trying to console her. "They damn well better," she said with force, as if that would help somehow will it into existence. "They should've never gone in the first place. Not Daryl. Not Sam. Not even Merle."

She turned her eyes back to the window, but was aware of Michonne's footsteps drawing closer, until they were side by side. When Jenna sent her a sideways glance, she saw that the woman's expression was drawn into a very serious one.

"I've got no kindness in me for Merle," she said slowly. "But goin' after the Governor like he did? That took guts."

She hated to admit it, but it had been very ballsy of him. Stupid and reckless, yes, but brave. If it hadn't directly resulted in Daryl and Sam going after him, she might have commended him for the daring move. Considering the circumstances, though, she was just straight mad at him. Daryl would be crushed if Merle got himself killed – and she would cease to function if both the man she loved and her brother died trying to rescue him.

There was also a part of Jenna, though, that was a little mad at herself. Because she couldn't help but feel that her lecture earlier might have provoked Merle into going after the Governor. Maybe if she had just walked away like she had meant to, maybe if she had just kept her damned mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened.

"Brave or not, his actions have put the prison in a vulnerable position again," Jenna said, brows pinched together with consternation. "Going up against the Governor was an uphill battle to begin with, but now?" She shook her head gravely. "If they don't come back, I don't see how we come out of this in one piece…assuming we come out of it at all."

Michonne seemed to think about that one for a moment. "What's done is done," she said finally. "This is the hand we've been dealt now, so we have to do our best with it. If you give up before the fight even starts, then we definitely don't stand a chance," she said pointedly.

Jenna glanced over at her, realized that Michonne was right, and sighed. She could be pissed all she wanted, she could be pessimistic all she wanted, but what good would it do anybody when it came time to fight? Going into the battle already expecting to lose would only result in her worst fears coming true. She had to pull herself together and meet this challenge head on – if not for herself, then for her friends. For Chloe.

"You're right," Jenna said. "It's just…hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel right now."

Michonne made a sound of understanding. "Bet you wish Rick had turned me over after all," she commented, neither joking nor accusing. "Then maybe you wouldn't be dealin' with this."

Jenna gave her a quick look. "No." Her firm response made Michonne look at her. "The deal was bullshit. The Governor was gonna come after us either way," she said. "Even if the deal had been legit, we still wouldn't have done it."

"But you were considering it," Michonne pointed out. "Why else would you have had that talk with me?" Jenna let out a long sigh, unsure what to say in response. "You had to," Michonne continued, her understanding tone catching Jenna off guard once again. "You would'a been stupid not to."

Jenna hesitated, then nodded slowly. "We considered it," she admitted. "But it felt wrong from the start, and after our talk, there was no way I was gonna let Rick go through with it. It didn't take much to convince him to let you stay – he didn't wanna give you up, either."

Michonne's expression actually softened at that, and was Jenna hallucinating? Or was that actually a smile on her lips. "Thanks for givin' me a shot," she said.

Jenna offered a smile back. "Thanks for helpin' us have a shot," she said, glad Michonne was fighting with them.

Before anything more could be said, the walkie on Jenna's hip suddenly crackled. Her blood went cold and she swore her heart launched up into her throat as she shared a look with Michonne.

"Jenna?" It was Rick, who had taken up a carefully concealed watch position outside to keep an eye on things. "There's a car comin' down the road."

Jenna snatched up the walkie. "Is it the Governor?" she asked, practically pressing her nose to the glass to try to see what was going on, even though she could hardly see the courtyard from where she was, given the poor positioning of the room.

"I'm not sure," Rick said with uncertainty. "It's only one car, an' it certainly isn't military."

There was a long pause, and Jenna swore it felt like the longest seconds of her entire life. Michonne was already moving to the box of flash grenades and smoke bombs that Rick had given them, ready to get to business if the big fight was upon them. Finally, Rick's voice sounded again.

"It's not the Governor," he said, his tone one of enormous relief. "It's Daryl!"

The moment she heard Daryl's name, she turned and practically sprinted out of the room, only vaguely aware of Michonne following her as she went. She raced through the halls of the prison and made it back to the block in record timing, then hurried outside. They'd locked the damn gate that led to their block, which had her cursing and fumbling with the spare keys, hands shaking as she hastily unlocked it. Finally, the door swung open and she raced into the courtyard just as Glenn, decked out in full gear, opened the gate so that an old four door could pull in.

Jenna skidded to a stop, heart pounding in her chest, eyes staring unblinking at the car. Daryl climbed out of the driver's seat, his eyes finding hers instantly, his expression already one of extreme guilt. She looked at him for a long second, before her eyes were drawn to the passenger side as the door opened and someone else got out.

It was Sam.

Jenna could have cried. They both looked a little rough, and they both had some blood on them, but they didn't seem to be hurt. They were okay. They were alive. That alone made Jenna feel so damn relieved that she momentarily forgot that she was still supposed to be angry. She ran to the car, headed straight for Daryl, and he seemed to brace himself, as if expecting her to hit him. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about doing just that at least once since she'd found out they'd left. But knowing what she did about Daryl's history, Jenna knew she would never get physical with Daryl in a moment of anger.

So when she reached him, she merely threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before. Daryl was surprised at first, clearly caught off guard by the greeting he had not been expecting, but soon had his arms around her, his head resting against hers as she let out a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry," he said in her ear, and she knew that he meant it.

"You fucking scared me," Jenna said back fiercely, though she didn't budge an inch. "What if you hadn't come back? You didn't even say goodbye!"

"I know," Daryl simply said. Because he knew he had been in the wrong to leave the way that he had, and he apparently didn't see any point in trying to excuse his way out of it.

Jenna finally pulled back to look at him, her hands moving to fist his leather vest. "I'm still really pissed at you. You could have died. If you ever do anything like this again, I swear to God – "

"I won't," Daryl interrupted gently.

Jenna nodded slowly, then finally released him and turned to look at Sam, who had come around to stand at the front of the car. He was clearly waiting to get an earful, too.

"Go ahead and say it," he prompted.

Jenna just huffed and then went to hug him too, squeezing him around the middle because he was so tall. Sam dropped an arm around her shoulder, embracing her tightly. She only hugged him for a few moments before pulling back to glare at him with confusion.

"What the hell were you even thinking? You don't even like Merle," she said, needing to know what had been going through his mind.

"I don't," he confirmed. "But you love Daryl," he said, making her blink in surprise. Sam and Daryl shared a look, and the two seemed to have a new level of respect for each other now. "Couldn't let him go out there without someone to watch his back."

The unexpected admission made her stare at him in disbelief. Sam didn't care whether Merle lived or died – he had simply gone so that he could protect Daryl. For her.

She huffed and shook her head, wanting to stay mad at him but feeling such a huge swell of affection and gratitude that it was damn near impossible. "Well, damnit," she said with a bitter laugh. "That really throws a wrench into my 'I'm gonna be mad at you forever for scaring me half to death' plan."

Sam smirked, then cocked an eyebrow. "Aren't you curious to know what happened?"

"I sure am," a new voice interjected.

Jenna and Sam both looked at Rick, who had just spoken. Then Jenna realized that everyone except for the people in the getaway car outside the prison had found their way to the courtyard and were waiting anxiously to hear what had happened.

"Merle had already taken out half of the Governor's guys by the time we got there," Sam began to explain, while Daryl went to open the backseat to the car they had arrived in. "We helped pick off a few more, and I damn near got close to taking the Governor out myself," Sam revealed, which caused several people to shoot looks at one another. "Long story short, he got away with a couple guys and high tailed it back to Woodbury."

Before anyone could ask any questions, a moan of pain drew everyone's attention to the car. Jenna's jaw dropped when she saw Daryl helping Merle out of the car. The man was badly beaten and in a terrible state, but he was alive.

"Asshole ran, but that don't mean this is done," Merle managed out, sounding weak. "He'll grab anyone who's able to shoot a gun and come back here. Prob'ly today." He paused to suck in a breath, as if just merely talking was taking too much effort, then continued on. "But they won't have the skill or the experience. He's lost most of his best fighters. The playin' fields evened out now."

Nobody seemed to know what to say as that information sunk in. As stupid as his decision to go after the Governor had been, Merle really had done them a favor. Merle, along with the help of Sam and Daryl, had eliminated a huge part of the threat against them. The Governor would probably still have more people than them, but he wouldn't have soldiers.

Suddenly the hopelessness of the situation didn't feel quite so suffocating.

Rick finally snapped out of it when Merle coughed and hung his head, looking like he might collapse at any moment. "Get him inside," he ordered. "And someone grab Hershel and bring him in so he can give Merle some medical attention."

Daryl started for the block, helping Merle along, while Glenn ran for the getaway car to collect Hershel. As for everyone else, they stood around in stunned silence, looking at each other with similar looks of wonderment.

"Am I crazy, or did that asshole actually just give us a real shot at winnin' this thing?" T-Dog finally spoke up.

Rick glanced at the block, then nodded slowly. "I think he did."

---

Sasha had thought it would be easy to get ahold of a walkie talkie, but, to her complete and utter frustration, that was proving to be incorrect.

They'd had a walkie a few days ago, when Andrea had slipped them one to get in touch with Sam, but they had made sure to return it promptly before anyone noticed it was missing. A nice lady in her sixties had been working the day they returned it, and with a little white lie, a few sheepish smiles, and lots of fake apologies, she had accepted the walkie with zero hassle, never once suspecting they had been up to anything.

Since getting and returning the walkie had been so easy the first time around, they had fully expected to be met with little to no resistance as they left Andrea's wrecked apartment and headed straight for the supply depot.

Unfortunately, the nice lady from before was not the one working. Instead, it was an uptight man who must have been determined to earn himself the title of Employee of the Month. He had instantly been suspicious as to their reasons for needing a walkie talkie, and none of their attempts to butter him up and coerce him into letting them borrow one had succeeded. Anyone taking anything out of the supply depot needed approval from someone out of a very small and select group, the man had insisted, and the only people capable of giving such permission were all unavailable. Without that permission, he would not let them in and would not let them have anything, and that was that.

After going back and forth with the guy, they had finally given up and retreated back outside to regroup.

"Now what?" Sasha asked, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Tyreese's lips pursed as he looked around, trying to figure out what to do. "Way too much time has passed," he finally said. "The Governor's probably at the prison by now. There's no tellin' if any of them are even still alive. And I'd bet that whatever happened to Andrea was done by his orders, if not by him himself. If he found out she turned on him and went after her…" Tyreese swallowed thickly and shook his head. "I doubt that's somethin' he'd let her get away with and still live to tell the tale."

Sasha frowned. "So what are you saying?"

Tyreese hesitated. "Maybe…maybe it's time we start thinkin' about what's best for us."

The meaning behind his words was loud and clear – he was thinking about running while they still had the chance. "So that's it? You just give up?"

Tyreese threw a hand up in frustration. "I don't want to, but what choice do we have?" he asked. "There's a solid chance that all our allies are dead, which means we're on our own now."

"You don't know that for sure," Sasha argued.

"No, I don't," Tyreese conceded. "But if it is just us, I know we can't stay here," he insisted. "Even if he doesn't suspect us, I can't live under him knowing what he's done. And I damn sure don't want you around him either." Tyreese reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. "The Governor and most of his henchmen are gone. If there was ever a chance to make a run for it, it's now. We might not get another chance like this."

Sasha didn't like the idea of running, not even a little bit. It wasn't that Tyreese didn't make a lot of good points, because he did. But what if he was wrong? They didn't know for certain that the prison had fallen already, and they didn't know for certain that Andrea was dead. And until they did know, Sasha couldn't just tuck tail and run.

"I can't do that," she said with a slow shake of her head. "I can't just quit. Not when there could still be people who need us."

Tyreese's shoulders sagged with defeat, even though he didn't seem surprised by her answer. "Thought you might say that." He sucked in a breath, then straightened up expectantly. "What do we do then?"

Sasha looked back to the supply depot. The guy on duty was a stickler, but there was only one of him and two of them. Not to mention the fact that Tyreese was much larger, and would easily be able to overpower him if it came down to a fight. They could knock him out and then just grab whatever they wanted. By the time he would come around again and be able to report what had happened, they would have hopefully found Andrea and already be long gone.

"We're gonna take that guy out," Sasha said with finality. "Knock him out, stuff him somewhere he won't be found, then take what we need."

Tyreese frowned a little, but then nodded. "You distract him, I'll take him down."

With the plan decided upon, they started back to the supply depot with Sasha in the lead. She reached for the door handle, her heart already pounding with anticipation, and started to pull it open.

That was when she heard a honk from the front gate, followed by quick, shouted commands between the people standing on guard there. She and Tyreese both froze, their eyes swinging that way, watching as the gates opened and a truck zoomed in, skidding to a halt just inside. The doors to the vehicle swung open and Martinez jumped out first, pointing to the first person he saw.

"Get to the infirmary! Now! Tell Dr. Stevens that the Governor needs medical attention!"

Sasha and Tyreese shared a quick look, then found themselves following the crowd that was already beginning to move toward the truck, curious to see what was going on.

While a guy ran off toward the infirmary, Martinez moved to open the door to the back seat. Allen had gotten out of the car by now, too, as well as an older guy that Sasha didn't remember the name of. They were cursing and frantic as they hovered behind Martinez, their eyes trained on the man he was helping out of the backseat.

It was the Governor, and he was hurt. In fact, his black jacket had been removed and the sleeve of his shirt was completely soaked through in blood.

"C'mon, we gotta get you to the infirmary," Martinez was telling the Governor as he kept him steady with a hand on his uninjured arm. "Doc Stevens will be waiting for you."

"I don't need your help gettin' there," the Governor growled out. "What I need is for you to assemble every able bodied person in Woodbury an' get them ready 'ta go after the prison."

Martinez's jaw dropped in surprise. "The prison?" he asked, as if taken aback that the Governor was even still thinking about war in his current state. "You're shot, sir. I don't think – "

The Governor suddenly turned on Martinez and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking the man closer so they were nose to nose. "I don't give a shit what you think!" he practically spat in the man's face. "I want everyone who can wield a gun armed an' ready to go within the hour. Is that in any way unclear?"

Martinez gulped, then his expression turned steely. "No, sir."

The Governor shoved him away, then went storming off toward the infirmary. While Martinez began to shout orders at anyone who could hear him, Sasha craned her neck to watch the Governor leave, the look of absolute murder on his face making her blood run cold. It didn't matter that he was hurt, it didn't even matter that he had come back to Woodbury missing the majority of his men. The Governor was out for blood, and he wasn't going to stop until he got it.

Sasha's gut suddenly told her to follow him, so she whispered a few words to Tyreese and then slunk off, pushing her way through the crowd that was rapidly growing in size in the town square. She went to the infirmary but didn't dare go inside, instead finding a place out of sight across from the building to hide and wait for him to come back out.

It took a while, at least thirty minutes, where she waited as patiently as she could. The commotion in town was growing as the people were rounded up and recruited into the fight, with people running here, there, and everywhere as weapons were distributed and vehicles were moved to the gate, just waiting to carry everyone to the prison. Sasha glanced in the direction Tyreese had gone more than once, just barely able to see his head through the crowd every so often – he looked anxious, but looked like he was trying to blend in by helping people get geared up.

Finally, the door to the infirmary opened, and out walked the Governor again. Sasha's eyes cut to him, his arm sporting a fresh, bright white wrap from where his wound had been tended to. His expression was the same, determined and full of rage, and when he began walking away with purpose, Sasha followed him again.

He did not, however, go back to join the others. Instead, he turned down an alley and disappeared from sight, making Sasha frown as she lengthened her strides to catch up with him. By the time she reached the alley, he was already turning down another path.

She continued to follow him, making sure to give him plenty of distance so that he wouldn't notice her, until he eventually led her to a warehouse at the edge of town. He pushed open the door roughly and slammed it behind him. Sasha hesitated, unsure what he was doing, and glanced behind her to see that they weren't too far away from where everyone else had assembled. Nobody was watching her, though, and something told her to keep following the Governor.

With a deep breath, she crept to the door and slowly pushed it open just far enough for her to squeeze through, then went inside.

It was a place she had never been in before, and she was immediately unsure as to where she should go, since she could no longer see the Governor. It was quiet, though, so she listened out until she thought she heard footsteps and started in that direction, walking quickly but quietly.

She had no idea if she was going the right way or not, but she kept going anyway, her eyes wide and alert as she went deeper into the warehouse. The place was like a damned maze, though, and she felt lost already. She stopped when she turned onto a hallway that led to a dead end, frowning before turning back and going the way she had come, only to find herself having to decide between going right or going left, and not knowing which way to choose.

The sound of footsteps suddenly alerted her to the presence of someone else nearby. Sasha cursed and quickly turned down a hall, not caring where she was going now, just wanting to get out of sight. The footsteps seemed to be following her, or maybe she was just paranoid that they were, so she turned again as soon as she could and saw a set of stairs. Sasha hurried up the steps until she was nearly at the top and crouched down, watching the floor down below. A random man came into view, not looking for her, but rather just carrying a box of what looked like ammunition. He went to a door, shouldered it open so that light from outside lit up the entire hallway, then left as the door closed behind him.

Sasha let out the breath she'd been holding and started to go back downstairs, but something stopped her.

What was that noise?

She turned back curiously and saw what looked like a large vent at the top of the stairs. It was open, and she could have sworn she heard a voice coming through it. Sasha quietly went upstairs and looked through the vent, her heart leaping into her throat when she saw the scene below.

The Governor was there, and he wasn't alone. The man named Milton was there, too, looking as though he'd been used as a punching bag, and there was one other. A blonde woman, restrained to a chair.

Andrea.

Sasha watched intently as the Governor hauled Milton up to his feet, the man swaying unsteadily because his hands and feet were bound with duct tape.

"They're dead because of what you two have done!" he growled dangerously. "This is all your fault!"

Sasha winced as the Governor punched Milton hard in the face, making him crumple to the ground. While Milton groaned and writhed with pain, Andrea urgently tried to plead with the Governor through the duct tape over her own mouth. But her pleas were ignored, and the Governor merely stood over Milton, shaking with fury.

"I took both of you in. I gave you everything I could. And this is how I am repaid?" he shouted, kicking Milton in the ribs. The Governor sneered at his whimper of pain and spat on the man. "I'll not let this treachery stand."

With that being said, he grabbed a large knife from a sheath on his belt. As Andrea let out muffled screams for him to stop, he cut the tape at Milton's ankles first, then at his wrists. With his limbs free, they fell to the ground uselessly. The Governor turned Milton onto his back swiftly and yanked the tape off his mouth.

"Please," Milton said as soon as his mouth was free. "This was my fault. Don't kill Andrea. Please."

The Governor sneered once more. "I'm not going to," he said.

Then he stabbed Milton in the stomach, making the man gape like he a fish. Sasha slammed a hand over her own mouth, watching in horror as he stabbed Milton again, and then a third time, twisting the knife viciously. Milton could only stare at him in shock, as if he was unable to register what was truly happening to him.

The Governor grabbed a fistful of Milton's shirt and pulled his face very close to his own. "You're gonna do that for me," he said darkly.

He released Milton and let him fall back to the floor. He stood to look at Andrea one last time, then strode out of the room without another word, leaving Milton gasping for air and Andrea sobbing helplessly.

Sasha closed her eyes and pressed her back to the wall, needing a moment to collect herself. She had seen people die, but she couldn't recall if she'd ever seen anyone do something so horrible and vicious. Her body trembled a little at the images that replayed in her mind and she quickly shook her head, trying to be rid of them. Finally, when she realized that Milton and Andrea needed help as quickly as possible, she pulled herself together and rushed out of the warehouse, slipping out unnoticed through the back door.

She hurried back to the square, her eyes almost frantic as they searched for Tyreese. She finally located him hanging back from the crowd that was now armed and ready, his eyes darting all around as he waited for her to come back. Sasha made a beeline for him, watching as his shoulders visibly relaxed when he spotted her pushing through the crowd.

"I thought somethin' happened to you," Tyreese whispered harshly, his concern making him glare at her angrily. "Don't you ever do that again!"

As bad as she felt for worrying him, there was no time to discuss it. "I found Andrea," Sasha whispered back immediately.

Tyreese's eyes widened. "Is she okay?"

"For now, but not for much longer," she said with a shake of her head. "We need to go. Now."

Tyreese nodded, but before they could leave, Allen suddenly appeared by them. They froze in place, watching as Allen glanced back and forth between them, his brows furrowing as he noticed their lack of weaponry.

"You two are gonna help fight, right?" he asked, giving them a hard look.

Sasha and Tyreese glanced at each other from the corner of their eyes. Things had been extremely tense between them and Allen, so much so that it seemed they had all made some mutual, unspoken agreement to avoid each other. She hadn't expected him to confront them out of the blue.

"We're not sure this fight is really ours," Tyreese answered calmly.

Allen's teeth ground together. "Not your fight? Not your fight?" he echoed incredulously. "They left us for dead when they kicked us out! They waved a gun in our faces! Now they've killed our men! How is this not your fight?!"

"Allen – " Sasha started to say, unable to help noticing that his shouting was drawing attention. The last thing she wanted was for people to start suspecting them, especially when they were so close to getting to Andrea and getting the hell out of there.

"They killed Ben!" Allen hollered, his voice cracking with emotion. "He was all I had left and they killed him!"

Sasha hadn't realized that Ben had been killed. She'd been so intent on following the Governor that she hadn't stuck around long enough to notice that Ben hadn't come back from the silo. Despite everything, knowing he had been killed made her heart break. Ben had been a good kid – perhaps a little misguided by his father, but a good kid nonetheless.

"We're sorry for your loss. We truly are," Sasha said honestly. "We wish it had never come down to this. To any of this."

"Well, it did," Allen interrupted fiercely. "Now it's time to put those assholes where they belong. In the ground." He glared back and forth between them. "If you ever truly cared about Ben, if we ever meant anything to you, you'll put your money where your mouth is and help us put an end to this."

With that being said, Allen turned and stormed off, pushing his way back through the crowd. Sasha and Tyreese watched him go, but made no move to follow him.

The Governor appeared then, looking eerily calm now, and as soon as she saw him, Sasha's blood ran cold. He'd cleaned some of the blood off himself and was shrugging his jacket back on, acting perfectly normal and as if he hadn't just stabbed a man and left him for dead, knowing fully well that he would turn and then kill Andrea. Just the sight of him was nearly enough to make her vomit.

"This everybody?" he asked Martinez.

Martinez nodded, and the Governor looked over his new fighters. There were at least a dozen of them, men and women all of fighting age, ready to do what was being asked of them. The Governor looked at the group approvingly, pleased with the amount of people willing to go to war for him. Though Sasha and Tyreese were still hanging back, the Governor looked at them for a long moment when his gaze found them, undoubtedly noticing their lack of weaponry.

"They killed nine of our men at that silo today, and five others when they invaded our homes! They killed men that protected you. Provided for you. We cannot let their murders go unanswered!" the Governor said loudly. "The people at that prison are no different than the biters! They're not gonna stop until they kill us all, and take everything that we've worked so hard for! We're gonna end this – once and for all!"

There was a slight cheer, then Martinez began to order everyone into the trucks. As the new soldiers mobilized, the Governor began to walk over to where Sasha and Tyreese were standing, his gaze moving back and forth between the two of them. Sasha felt her spine stiffen, still clearly seeing in her mind what he had just done, every instinct in her body telling her to run away from him as fast as she could.

But she held her ground, and she forced herself to not show how truly afraid of him she was.

"Why are you unarmed?" the Governor asked slowly.

Sasha cast a quick glance at Tyreese, who squared his shoulders and raised his chin. "Because we're not joinin' the fight," he said steadily. "You want us to kill biters? We can do that. But we don't fight other people."

"Is that so?" the Governor said, almost mockingly.

Tyreese looked to her, as if expecting her to jump in, but Sasha said nothing, her voice suddenly leaving her. "If us not fighting today means we've lost our place here, then that's fine," Tyreese continued, shifting his gaze back to the Governor. "We'll stay here, protect the children and anyone who stays behind just in case anyone shows up here to start somethin'. After that, if you want us gone, we'll go."

Sasha was glad that Tyreese had been able to think quickly on his feet. They watched the Governor in silence as he stared at them for an uncomfortably long time, processing their offer. Finally, he turned to a man lingering nearby and grabbed a gun. For one terrifying second, Sasha thought he was going to use it on them right then and there. But then he stepped forward and handed it to Tyreese, who slowly took it from him.

"Thank you," he said, apparently giving them their blessing to stay.

Sasha felt like she could breathe again as the Governor walked away and climbed into the lead truck with Martinez. They watched him for a second, before both of them looked at Allen, who was standing by one of the other trucks. He glared at them, shaking his head in betrayal and disbelief. Then he turned his back on them and climbed up into the truck.

The Woodbury fighters left, quickly rolling out of town. As soon as the gates were shut, Tyreese shouldered the gun and looked at Sasha, raising his brows expectantly. Not wanting to waste another minute, she motioned for him to follow her and led the way to the warehouse, no longer concerned about anyone keeping tabs on them since anyone with even an ounce of authority was now gone.

She explained what she had seen as they hurried that way, making Tyreese curse and shake his head. "He's out of his damn mind," he muttered with disgust.

"That's why we're gonna get Andrea and Milton and get the hell out of this place," Sasha told him.

Tyreese nodded quickly in agreement.

Once they were inside, they began making their way through the warehouse, trying to find the room that Andrea and Milton were in. It was confusing at first, until Sasha noticed some blood on the floor. Remembering the blood that had been on the Governor after he had stabbed Milton, and thinking it might have dripped off of him on his way out, she pointed it out to Tyreese and they began to follow the trail. Finally, they came to a steel door somewhere toward the very back, far removed from everything else. There was a large smudge of blood on the handle, and Sasha knew they had found the right place.

Sasha pulled the door open without hesitation, feeling a rush of relief when Andrea and Milton came into view. Andrea seemed jumpy at first, as if expecting someone to come in and finish what the Governor had started, but upon seeing who it was, she slumped with relief.

"Andrea!" Sasha said, rushing forward to her side.

Andrea's eyes seemed to fill with tears of relief now. Sasha removed the tape over her mouth as gently as she could, but the woman still winced. "Thank God you're here!" Andrea cried.

"We tried to get to you sooner, but we had no idea where you were," Sasha said in a hurry. "I only found you now because I tailed the Governor when he came here." She glanced back at Milton, who was still on the floor bleeding profusely. Tyreese was kneeling next to him, looking alarmed as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. "I saw what happened," she admitted. "I wish I had found you sooner."

"You're here now," Andrea said. "That's all that matters."

Sasha nodded, then moved away to hover at Tyreese's shoulder. Milton was in terrible shape. The wounds to his belly were severe, and it looked as though he had lost a lot of blood. "Jesus," she whispered, horrified all over again. "That sick bastard."

Andrea glanced around frantically, as if expecting the Governor to turn up at any second. "Where is he now?"

"He just left for the prison," Sasha answered.

Andrea cursed at that, shaking her head.

"We have to get him outta here," Tyreese said, looking up at Sasha. "He needs help, or he ain't gonna make it."

Sasha nodded, and then moved back to Andrea's side. "Is there a key for these cuffs?"

Andrea shrugged. "Check the table."

Sasha did as she was told, shoving things around in her search for a key. There didn't appear to be one, though, which made her curse with frustration. "I don't see one!"

"Come and take over here!" Tyreese commanded.

Sasha went to take his place, pressing her hands into Milton's wounds to try to stop the flow of blood, making him cry out at the contact. She gave him a look of apology, then watched as Tyreese went to the table and picked up a hammer. After wiping his hands clean so he could have a better grip, he went to Andrea's chair and pounded the hammer against the chains of the cuffs keeping her restrained. With a few hard whacks, the chain of the first cuff broke in half, freeing her hand even though the cuff was still locked around her wrist. Once he had done the same to the other cuff chain, Andrea was finally free.

"What happened to your hand?" Tyreese asked, which made Sasha look that way and realize that Andrea was injured, too.

"No time to explain," Andrea said, already hurrying to Milton's side. "Jesus, I'm so sorry, Milton," she said emotionally, her eyes locked on the grave injuries he'd sustained. "Help me get him up!" she said urgently.

The three of them worked together to try to get him up, but they froze immediately when he let out a loud cry of pain. Evidently, his wounds were so bad that moving even a little bit was too excruciating for him.

"Andrea, I'm not sure he can move," Sasha said with a worried frown.

"We have to try," Andrea insisted.

The three of them started to make another attempt to get him up, but Milton began to protest, making them hesitate. He took a deep breath and looked at Andrea, his eyes filled with resignation. "I'm done," he said. "I won't survive this."

"Milton – " Andrea started to say.

"You have to go after him," he interrupted with as much authority as he could muster. "You can't let him kill them." He grabbed Andrea's arm, giving it a squeeze that seemed to take all of his strength. "You have to finish this."

"I don't wanna leave you here to die," Andrea argued.

Milton managed a weak smile. "It's my choice."

Andrea started to argue some more, but Tyreese placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Go," he instructed. "Take down the Governor. I'll stay with Milton, make sure he gets the medical attention he needs."

Sasha gaped at her brother in shock, completely caught off guard. "Ty – "

He just looked at her and gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm not much of a soldier anyway," he said with a shrug. "And you're the better shot." He took off his gun and offered it to Sasha. "You two go end this."

Andrea and Sasha looked at Tyreese, then at each other. As much as Sasha didn't want to be separated from her brother, she also knew that Milton needed help, or else he was going to die. There was nobody better suited to look after Milton than Tyreese, and there was nobody better suited to go after the Governor than her and Andrea.

Sasha could tell the moment Andrea made up her mind, because her concern and fear melted into steely resolve. "Don't leave his side for a second," she commanded Tyreese.

Tyreese nodded. "I'll be with him the whole time."

Andrea reached out to squeeze his muscular shoulder with gratitude, looked at Milton one last time, then stood to her feet and turned to Sasha, her eyes glinting fiercely.

"Let's go kill this son of a bitch."

---

Jenna stood by the Tucson, arms crossed tightly over her chest and eyes glued to the road. Carl and Chloe were on either side of her, armed with the pistols they always carried in emergency situations and eyes just as alert. Hershel leaned against the back bumper, looking calm, but his eyes showing hints of anxiety. She could hear Judith making little fussy noises in the Tucson, where she was being tended to by Carol and Beth. Lastly, in the front passenger seat of the car, sat Merle.

Jenna sighed and glanced toward the eerily quiet prison. Though they still didn't know when the Governor was coming, they were certain that he was still coming. So they had all given each other hugs, she had squeezed the life out of her brother, and she had shared one last lingering kiss with Daryl when nobody had been looking. Nobody had said any actual goodbye's – they all refused to say that word. Instead, they had said good luck, or see you later, or I love you, and then they had gone their separate ways.

Jenna looked away from the prison, her eyes turning to Merle. After what he had been through, she was surprised he was even still conscious. Then again, he had been very quiet – maybe he had finally passed out after all.

She squeezed Chloe's shoulder and went over to the passenger seat, where the door was flung wide open. Though Merle had been cleaned up and all his wounds bandaged, he didn't look much better than when he'd arrived with Daryl and Sam. Between his broken arm, gunshot wound, missing fingers, and the fact that he'd sustained one hell of a beating at the hand of the Governor, it was astounding that he'd managed to keep all his faculties about him. He'd even wanted to stay in the prison and fight, because he wanted to kill the Governor that badly.

He'd only come with them to the getaway car because Daryl had forced him to.

When she stopped next to him, Merle cracked an eye to look at her, then closed it again. "What?" he asked, his tone lacking any bite.

"Just making sure you're still alive," she commented.

Merle managed a whisper of a smirk. "Far as I can tell."

Jenna looked at him for a long moment, thinking of everything that he had done that day and what it had meant for their group. An hour ago she had been furious with him for leaving. But now? Now all she felt was respect and gratitude, which was very weird considering it was being directed toward Merle of all people.

"That was very brave, going after the Governor the way you did," Jenna said.

Merle looked at her again, his brows raising. "High praise comin' from you, ginger."

"Why'd you do it?" she asked curiously. "Why were you ready to sacrifice yourself for us?"

Merle let out a long sigh, his gaze turning forward as he contemplated his answer. "Someone told me there was still a chance for me 'ta turn my life around. For me 'ta do the right thing." He looked at her again. "Guess I wanted to see what it felt like 'ta do somethin' right for once."

Jenna smiled and nodded. "Well, you did good," she said. "And I'm glad you didn't die."

Merle almost smiled at that. "Got your brother 'ta thank for that."

It still shocked her that Sam had saved Merle's life. Her brother would have had all the reason in the world to let Merle die, but he hadn't. She didn't know if things would ever be completely right between them, but she now had hope that maybe they could co-exist with one another. Maybe Merle would have a place amongst them after all, and she was glad for that, simply because she knew how much it would mean to Daryl to have his brother around for good.

It was then that a sound reached Jenna's ears, making her frown and look to the road. There was a dull roar in the distance, like that of a large car engine. Jenna turned wide eyes to Merle, who had also heard the sound, and when he gave her a serious look, she knew exactly what was going on.

It was finally happening.

The Governor had finally come.

Jenna left Merle in the front seat and hurried back around to the back, where the others were. The walkie-talkie that had been clipped to her belt was already in hand. "Rick, come in," she called.

"What's going on?"

"They're coming."

"Copy that," Rick said, his tone all business.

She clipped the walkie back to her hip and grabbed for the rifle she'd brought with her, holding it tight in her hands. "Hershel, get in the car with Beth and Judith. Carol, kids – stay with me," she instructed.

Hershel did as instructed, and Jenna quickly ushered Carol and the kids along with her to the other side of the Tucson, each of them armed enough to defend themselves if they had to. As the unmistakable sound of multiple approaching vehicles grew louder, she crouched down behind a bush and motioned for the others to do the same.

"Get down. Stay out of sight!" she ordered.

They all crouched together in the foliage, eyes trained intently on the road, waiting for the Governor's caravan to come into sight.

When it finally did, her blood ran cold. There was a small truck, two jeeps, and a big supply truck carrying easily at least a dozen people. Jenna watched from their hidden positions as they rolled right through the front gate and immediately launched their attack – Martinez, the guy that had been at the meeting the other day, blew up one of the guard towers with something that looked like a rocket launcher. Another guy who looked suspiciously like Sam's former friend Allen was behind some high caliber gun, blazing rounds into the other nearest guard tower. Though both guard towers fell, Jenna was not concerned – Merle had warned them not to station anyone in any of the towers, insisting the Governor would take those out first.

He had been right, of course.

With the two nearest guard towers rendered useless, the Woodbury fighters parked right in the middle of the field and opened fire on the walkers roaming there. It was incredibly loud, the sound of hundreds of bullets being unloaded on the flesh-eaters, punctuated by another loud BOOM as Martinez fired his launcher at another tower, making the watch post up top explode. It went on for several minutes, then finally died off as the last of the walkers in the field fell dead to the ground.

The fighters began to pile out of the supply truck and make their way into the courtyard, using one of the jeeps for cover as they went. Seeing them invading the prison – their home – made Jenna sick to her stomach. Knowing that so many people she loved so very much were still in that prison only made her feel worse.

"Binoculars," she said quietly to Carol, who went to retrieve them and passed them to Jenna. Jenna raised them to her eyes and watched as the enemy went through the courtyard, pausing momentarily to look around, as if waiting for an attack to come at any moment. When nothing happened, they headed straight for C-Block.

They tore through the gate that enclosed the stairwell, then began to file up to the door, where they barely hesitated to go inside.

"They're inside," Jenna said through the walkie.

"Copy," Rick said back.

She watched as the last of the fighters went in, then lowered her binoculars again.

There was nothing to do now but wait – wait to see how the fight played out, wait to see how bad things got, wait to see if they would need to run or not.

No longer needing to hide, Jenna began to pace back and forth for the next several minutes, watching the prison like a hawk. The Woodbury fighters would start in C-Block, which they would find abandoned, and then they would likely venture further into the prison, where the rest of the group would be waiting to surprise them. The fear and uncertainty that she had seen on a few of the faces of the fighters left Jenna hoping that they'd be too scared to fight back – or, at least, too scared to fight back well. The best outcome they could hope for would be killing the Governor and scaring everyone else so badly that they never came back – but if they had to kill them all, then…so be it.

Jenna stopped to stare at the prison, then glanced to her left when she saw movement from the corner of her eye. She did a double take, then frowned and went stomping over to Merle, who had gotten out of the passenger seat and come to see what was going on.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "You need to get back in the car."

"What I need is to see that asshole dead," Merle corrected with a fierce glint in his eye. The arrival of his enemy, the man who had nearly killed him not so long ago, seemed to have sparked life back into him.

"Merle – "

"Jenna, we have a slight problem!" Carol suddenly said loudly.

As soon as those words reached her ears, Jenna heard a sound that made her hair stand on end – growls of hunger and snapping twigs, a clear signal of something very dangerous coming their way.

Jenna turned her back on Merle and rounded the Tucson so she could see what Carol and the kids were now looking at. There were walkers in the forest, not enough to be counted as a herd, but definitely enough to cause concern. They were emerging from around trees and tumbling through bushes, eyes set on the prison first, clearly drawn to the area by all the racket the Woodbury fighters had made when they'd arrived. It didn't take long for them to realize Jenna and the others were there, though, which quickly made them change direction and come for them.

Jenna's stomach flipped uneasily as she glanced at the car, where Hershel, Beth, and Judith were. She did not want to risk the chompers reaching the Tucson, not with how many times she'd seen cars get swarmed in the past. Lips pressing together with determination, she slung her rifle over her shoulder and took her knife in hand. "Save your bullets if you can!" she ordered. "Use your knives!"

She walked away from the Tucson and went further into the trees, beginning to take down walkers as she came upon them. A glance to her left told her that Carl and Chloe had followed, the two of them sticking side by side as they took down walkers with impressive efficiency. When she looked to her right, she saw Carol there, only a few feet away, looking stronger than ever as she too fought off the wave of zombies.

Even though it was only the four of them, they were handling their own fine. It helped that they weren't completely overwhelmed – if that had been the case, she would have gotten everyone in the Tucson and just made a run for it. The stream of walkers was steady though, and Jenna lost track of time, too focused on the task at hand to pay attention to much of anything, save for the safety of her companions.

After Carl stabbed one last walker, the trees went quiet again and the forest floor was littered with bodies. They all were breathing hard, and they were all splattered with foul, dark blood, but nobody was injured. Jenna looked to the other three, nodded in approval, then they hurried back to the Tucson to make sure nothing had happened while they'd been busy. The vehicle was untouched, and Jenna breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Everyone good?" Jenna asked.

"Not exactly," Hershel said, his face grim. The response made Jenna frown with worry, but Hershel spoke again before she could ask any question. "Merle's gone."

At first, she thought he meant Merle had died. Jenna, wide-eyed, ran to the spot where he had last been, expecting to find him dead on the ground. But the spot was empty, and there was no sign of Merle, which had her looking around in confusion.

That was when she looked to the prison, where she only just now realized she could hear rapid gunfire and the blaring alarms they had planned to use in order to scare and distract the enemy. The fight was well under way, but that wasn't what sent a jolt of fear through her.

No, it was the sight of Merle, hobbling his way through the field, moving surprisingly fast for someone so injured.

Jenna knew in an instant what he was doing, and she cursed loudly.

"Merle!" she yelled to make him come back, knowing he must have decided to go after the Governor again, even though he was in no condition to do so. "Merle, you idiot! Come back!"

Either he didn't hear her, or he ignored her. Whichever it was, there was no time for her to go after him. More twigs snapping in the forest alerted told her that more walkers were coming. She couldn't leave. Not now.

Merle was on his own.

---

Merle wouldn't necessarily say that he had a death wish, but he would say that he was one determined son of a bitch when he put his mind to something. The Governor needed to die today – that was the cold hard truth of it. If this war was going to be over, if the feud between the prison and Woodbury was truly going to be settled, then Philip had to die.

And Goddamnit, it didn't matter that the prick had nearly killed him barely an hour ago. So long as he still had air in his lungs, he was going to make sure that fucker went down. No matter what it took.

Merle stumbled his way up the path that went through the field, breathing hard and feeling like he could collapse at any second, but somehow finding the willpower to keep his feet moving forward. He glanced back once to make sure Daryl's girl and the others weren't dead and was just able to catch a glimpse of them, still taking down a few walkers in the forest. It looked like they were holding their own pretty well, and he didn't see very many roamers anymore, which meant they didn't need him.

Merle continued on, reaching for the pistol he had been armed with, the adrenaline pumping through his veins making the pain in his mutilated fingers hardly even noticeable anymore, his eyes locked forward as gunshots continued to echo from the prison. He would find that asshole and put a bullet right between his eyes. He'd kill Philip if it was the last damn thing he ever did.

Merle had just made it to the truck the Governor had arrived in when there was suddenly a lot of shouting and gunfire in the courtyard. The fight had made its way outside and Merle froze, crouching by the truck for cover and craning his neck to see what was going on. When he realized that the Woodbury fighters were retreating, he knew he had to make a decision quick. He couldn't take them all on, and he didn't want to – he only wanted Philip.

Merle glanced at the bed of the truck he stood by, then was struck with an idea. If his fighters fled, then Philip would too. He talked a big talk, but that pussy didn't have the balls to fight alone.

No fuckin' way that asshole's gettin' outta here, Merle thought to himself with a growl.

Without thinking about it twice, Merle climbed up into the bed of the truck and laid down, grabbing for a dirty, folded up tarp to conceal himself from sight.

And then he waited.

His heart was pounding in his ears as he heard the Woodbury fighters finally drawing closer barely a few minutes later. There was a lot of frantic shouting as people clambered back into the vehicles – he held his breath, hoping none of them would think to get in the bed of the truck he was in. It'd be a damned shame to get caught because some scared asshole trampled all over him.

Luckily, that didn't happen.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rose above all the rest, making his blood boil with fiery hatred.

"Where the hell are y'all goin'?!" Philip demanded as he ran after his retreating soldiers. "Get back there and fight!"

But nobody seemed to be listening to him.

"Sir, get in the truck before you get hit!" Martinez yelled.

They were close, because he could hear bullets nipping at the truck he was hiding in. Merle shrunk into himself as much as he could, hoping a stray bullet wouldn't find him. The truck jostled as Philip and Martinez finally got in, then the engine roared to life and the truck lurched, speeding away with Merle in the bed.

He didn't dare try to do anything yet as they left the prison behind, not while the truck was moving so erratically. His aim would be shotty in his condition already, and he didn't want to risk taking a shot that wouldn't hit the intended target – that would only alert Philip of his presence and give him the chance to fight back. So he bided his time as the truck sped along, gaining speed as Philip shouted to Martinez to catch up to the others.

After a while, the sound of another car engine reached Merle's ears, and then Martinez started laying on the horn, honking over and over again. Merle moved the tarp just enough to peer out from under his cover to see what was going on – they had caught up to the other vehicles.

"Pull over!" Philip shouted through the window. "I said pull over!'

But the vehicles didn't stop, and it seemed like the Governor's fighters had decided not to listen, so Martinez sped up even more, swerved, and then slammed on brakes in the middle of the road. Merle lurched in the bed, wincing as his wounded arm hit something hard, while the other vehicles screeched to a halt, forced to stop now that the truck was in the way.

"What the hell are you doin'?!" Philip demanded as he got out of the truck and went to confront his fighters. "We need to dig in!"

"It's not worth it!" another guy argued back.

"That was a slaughter!" a female voice joined in protest.

"You're a bunch of pussies!" Martinez yelled, and Merle couldn't help but scowl – he'd never cared much for Martinez, that damned brown noser. "They're not cut out for this. I told you we should've done this shit ourselves!" he then said to the Governor.

"Look, we're done fightin' for a hole with a half-dozen psychopaths living in it," another fighter proclaimed. "They can keep it, for all I care!"

Several people began to argue at once. A few wanted to go back and finished the job, but most everyone sounded like they wanted to give up the fight altogether – after all, they weren't soldiers, they had never done anything like this. Merle wasn't surprise they wanted to tuck tail and run.

Their arguing was good, though. It provided a distraction, which meant nobody even noticed as Merle pushed off the tarp he was under and maneuvered around so that he was on his belly, facing the truck bed door. He held his gun tighter, heart pounding with anticipation, and leaned up just enough to take a quick look around and see where everyone was. Martinez and another guy were close, only a few feet away. The Governor was further, about ten to fifteen feet, and the rest of the fighters were on the other side of him.

Nobody had any clue he was even there.

He knew he didn't have much time – if even one person noticed him, his cover would be blown and the element of surprise would be gone. He knew he had to act, fast and now, while Philip was still distracted. He sucked in one last breath, already mapping out in his head what he would do, and started to lift his gun to put his plan into motion.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Philip lifted his rifle and started firing at his people, making them scream and scatter, and making Merle freeze momentarily purely out of shock. He'd known Philip was ruthless, he'd known him to do a lot of cruel things, but taking out his own people in cold blood?

Hatred like he'd never known before surged through him, and then Merle went into action.

He jumped up, finger already on the trigger, and took down Martinez first. A bullet through the back of his head made him drop to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The guy that had been next to Martinez jumped when he saw the man crumple and looked at Merle, then raised his gun like he was going to fire back. Merle took him down too.

He then turned his sights on the Governor, who was so distracted killing his own people that he still didn't realize Merle was there, or that he'd just killed two of his men. Merle zeroed in on his target, aiming right for his head, and squeezed the trigger.

The Governor moved at the last second. He missed.

The Governor knew he was there now – the bullet whizzing past his ear made him jerk and whirl around, his gaze turning murderous as it landed on Merle. With a scowl, he began to fire toward Merle, who had to drop down for cover, listening as the bullets hit the door he hid behind. When the gunfire stopped, Merle slowly lifted his head to look around, but the Governor was no longer in sight.

Merle winced as he climbed out of the truck, his boots hitting the pavement, still holding his gun at the ready as he started to look for the Governor.

"Come out on out, asshole!" he called. "Why you hidin'?!"

He slowly walked forward, keeping his head on a swivel, stepping over the many dead bodies that now littered the road. Jesus, had he killed everyone? Merle frowned, but there was no time to check and see if anyone was still alive – he kept pressing forward, knowing the Governor was still close and could jump out at him at any moment. He stopped by the other jeep, glancing through the windows to see if the Governor was on the other side and listening out for any movement, but there was nothing. So he continued on, glancing around rapidly, breathing hard and ignoring the pain in his body.

"What, can't face me like a man? Only get off on takin' me out when you got an audience?" Merle taunted. He stepped over another body, reached the huge truck that had carried the bulk of the soldiers, and kicked the side loudly. "Get out here, pussy! And let's end this!"

There was a yell from behind him all of a sudden, and Merle turned just in time for Philip to tackle him to the ground. A wrestling match ensued, where Merle fought as best as he could, and where Philip seemed determined to take him out with his bare hands. Merle tried to get his gun up to fire off a shot, but Philip grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully, making him drop the gun against his will. The asshole then threw all his weight into a hard punch that felt like it cracked Merle's jaw clean off. Merle recovered though, then growled and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down to headbutt him in the face.

The way blood immediately started pouring out of the Governor's nose was the most satisfying thing he ever did see.

The Governor yelled, incensed, and punched him again. "You son of a bitch! Today you die!"

His hands went around Merle's neck, cutting off his air supply. He squeezed hard, face contorted and turning red with murderous rage. Merle struggled against him, trying to break his hold, but his broken arm was useless and he couldn't get good enough leverage with his other one. He struggled to suck in a breath that couldn't come, tried anything to throw the man off and make him slacken his grip, but it was useless. He was too injured, too weak, and the Governor was too driven by rage.

Merle could feel what little strength he had left slipping away. He swatted one last time, the hit making no difference, his vision beginning to turn black and his ears beginning to ring. Philip practically cackled over him. "Enjoy hell, asshole," he growled out, delighting in watching Merle's life leave him.

Suddenly, a loud sound broke through the ringing in Merle's ears, and Philip's head jerked to the side. Something warm splattered all across Merle's face and front, and the grip around his neck slackened.

Merle gasped harshly for air, coughing violently and rolling to his side as he tried to make his lungs work again. It took a few moments, but once his vision was clear and his brain was actually functioning again, he looked to the Governor, who lay on the ground next to him. There was a bullet hole in his temple, oozing red blood, and he wasn't moving, his face frozen in a lifeless expression.

Philip was dead.

Merle began to look around, trying to figure out who had been the one to do it, when he spotted a truck that hadn't been there before. Andrea was standing by the open door of the passenger seat, with a rifle in her hand and the look of someone who had finally finished what they had set out to accomplish.

Merle looked at her for a long moment, realizing it was her who had ended the Governor, then turned onto his back and slumped with relief.

Then he began to laugh.

---

Jenna did not wait for Rick to call to give them the green light to come back into the prison. As soon as the Woodbury fighters fled, they finished off a few last undead scragglers and piled back into the Tucson so they could return to the prison. Yes, they had survived the Governor's attack, but knowing where Merle was now, and knowing what he had planned, made her urgent to get to Daryl to tell him what had happened.

By the time she parked in the courtyard, everyone who had been fighting had already accumulated there, looking as though they were in the middle of a heated debate.

"We can't take the chance," Jenna heard Glenn announce as she jumped out of the driver's seat. "He's not gonna stop!"

"Glenn's right," T-Dog chimed in. "We can't keep livin' like this, constantly watchin' our backs, never knowin' when he might come here 'ta take us out."

"And what happens if we take the fight to Woodbury?" Maggie asked, looking unconvinced. "We barely made it out last time."

"There will be more of us now," Sam interjected. "We can end it."

Finally, Jenna joined them, and all eyes turned to her. When they saw her expression, everyone immediately looked anxious and concerned. "Merle's gone again," she said bluntly, eyes on Daryl.

"What?" Daryl asked, stepping closer. "What do you mean?"

"The fight drew walkers. We were so busy taking them down that I didn't even see him go until it was too late." She gulped and gave him an apologetic look. "I'm positive he stowed away in the Governor's truck before they fled. I think he's on his way to Woodbury with them."

Daryl cursed loudly, then swung his eyes to Rick. "We have to go," he said determinedly.

Rick actually nodded in agreement. "Let's end this."

There was no time to rest as everyone began scrambling around to carry out their next course of action. Hershel, Beth, and the kids returned to the block, while Daryl and Sam went to go and fetch both the motorcycle and the silver truck that they had stashed out of sight. The rest of them began quickly packing up guns and ammunitions into bags and grabbing spare medical supplies, just in case they might need them.

The vehicles were back in the courtyard and ready to go in under thirty minutes. They had just started to debate who would go and who would stay to protect the others, however, when Sam's voice suddenly called through the courtyard.

"Truck coming!"

Jenna's eyes darted to the road, her heart lurching when she saw that there was indeed a truck coming up the path. Everyone immediately went into fight mode, moving to take defensive positions around the courtyard as they prepared for another fight. Jenna found herself crouched behind an overturned table with Daryl, both of them sharing a meaningful look as they prepared for what was to come.

But she did not hear bullets, like she expected to, and when she chanced a glance over the top of the table she noticed something that made her brows pinch together.

The truck had paused in the field, and something white was being waved out of one of the windows.

"It's not the Governor!" T-Dog shouted, abandoning his defensive position. "It's Andrea!"

Jenna closed her eyes, letting out a massive breath of relief. Daryl's hand on her shoulder made her look at him, and she offered a shaky smile, still waiting for her heart to stop pounding so hard. He squeezed her shoulder and stood, offering a hand. Jenna took it, then they went to rejoin the others as Andrea drove up to the courtyard.

Once the truck was parked, it was easy to see that Andrea wasn't alone. Sasha was with her, and there were three people in the bed that Jenna didn't recognize. One person, however, stuck out like a sore thumb.

Merle.

"Holy shit," Daryl breathed, before hurrying over to the truck to check on his brother.

Andrea and Sasha got out of the truck, and Sam was there in a heartbeat, scooping Sasha up in an enormous hug that she seemed more than happy to return.

"Tyreese?" Sam asked as he set her back on her feet. "He okay?"

Sasha nodded. "He's back at Woodbury, helping Milton," she answered.

Sam frowned with confusion. "Who's Milton?"

Sasha just shook her head. "I'll explain later." Then she gave him a big smile, a certain fondness entering her gaze. "It's good to see you, Sasquatch."

Sam gave the woman a beaming smile, then hugged her again.

Jenna turned her eyes away from the reunion to peer at the others in the truck unsurely. They must have been from Woodbury, but had they been part of the fight? It was hard to say for sure – it had all happened to fast and she had been so far away that she hadn't gotten a good look at anyone, save for the more memorable faces.

Knowing she'd find out who they were soon enough, she turned to Andrea and went to envelop the woman in a hug, beyond relieved to know that she was alright after all. Andrea embraced her just as tightly, offering a small smile when they parted.

"You had us really worried," Jenna said. "We thought something had happened to you."

"Something did happen " Andrea admitted, which made Jenna frown as she noticed the bruises and dried blood on her face. "But that's a story for later."

"Who are those people?" Rick asked, stepping forward, his eyes also on the people in the truck.

Andrea frowned as she glanced back at the people. "They were Philip's fighters," she said, which made everyone stiffen and look to the people again. The Woodbury fighters kept their eyes downcast, looking very uncomfortable. "What's left of them anyway."

"What happened to the rest?" Glenn asked unsurely. After all, every fighter that had entered the prison had also left the prison. Why were there so few now?

Andrea's expression went grim. "Philip killed them," she said, much to their shock. "They wouldn't come back to fight, so he punished them."

"Where is he?" Rick demanded, looking ready to track down the man and kill him himself. "Where did he go?"

Andrea lifted her chin into the air. "He's dead."

The words rendered everyone speechless. For a long few moments, nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody even breathed. It seemed almost too good to be true. The man that had been a dark cloud hanging over them, the man that had been the biggest threat to their survival, the man that they had all feared would put them in the ground, was gone. Finally, ad that realization sunk in, everyone began to look at each other with varying expression of relief and happiness.

They had won the war after all, and they hadn't lost a single person on their side.

It was better than any of them could have ever hoped for.

"How did he die?" Rick asked eagerly.

"I'll be happy to tell you everything. But some of these people are hurt and could use some medical attention," Andrea said, motioning to the people still in the truck. "Think we can get them inside and taken care of?"

Everyone looked at Rick, waiting to hear what he would say. Jenna would not fault him for turning away the very people that had just attacked their home – hell, she had seen him turn people away for far, far less. But after he took a moment to think it over, he gave a single nod.

"Bring them in."

Andrea smiled gratefully, and with that everyone began to head inside. The injured Woodbury fighters were helped along by Andrea and T-Dog, Daryl, of course, made sure Merle got inside, and then the rest of the group trailed after them. Several people were smiling and patting each other on the backs, some were even hugging, looking as though the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders.

One by one, everyone disappeared into the block, until it was only Jenna left in the courtyard. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, thinking the air had never smelled sweeter. When she opened her eyes again, they turned to the road that led to the prison. There were some chompers wandering around there, but there was no Governor, and there never would be again.

The war was over. They were finally free. Now they had a future, and all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted with it.

At that thought, Jenna finally smiled.

---

Holy shishkabobs, my dudes. The war is DONE. Hallelujah!

Next chapter is the epilogue, and it will be a very welcome change from all the doom and gloom. There will be fun, there will be fluff, there will be some spice! The epilogue will be posted the same day as the Walking Dead series finale, so mark your calendars!

See you all at the end!