Exit Strategy

As soon as I'd told him, Merle didn't waste time. He quickly opened and flattened the map on the table once again. All but throwing his beer bottles out of the way. I lifted my bubble can from the table, holding it for safekeeping.

"The one near Nunez?" He asked as he adjusted the map, not looking at me.

"I dunno what that means," I answered honestly. I watched quietly as Merle muttered under his breath, planning and plotting while drawing on the map with a black marker.

I rubbed my eyes and stayed quiet, knowing he needed to concentrate on whatever he was doing. I kept having to blink and rub my face, fatigue consuming me. I wondered what time it was when I could go to bed . . . if I could go to bed. I'd been through a lot with the group, but I couldn't remember a day ever feeling so long. Had I really only talked to Daryl that morning? Only seen Merle again for the first time mere hours before?

Suddenly, Merle stopped. He sat in his seat, placing the marker down to stare at the map. No muttering, no pacing, no marking, just quietly staring.

"What?" I finally asked, letting myself yawn.

"It might take too long on foot, but I don't think we can risk grabbin' a car. Usually, I have to clear that ahead of time."

"Clear?"

"Get permission," he clarified. "I can't get one without gettin' noticed. I could probably get away with it, snuff out questions, not for long, though. Might give us less time, but walkin' will take longer . . ."

"So, we're leavin'? You know how to get there?"

Merle's eyes finally left mine, "gettin' there was never the problem. I didn't know where to go. Gov's with yer friends now. Don't know how much longer we got. If they haven't spilled already." He paused, thinking it over. "We'll walk. Might lose time, but it's more discreet."

"We're gonna walk all the way there?"

"Your group, do they have vehicles?"

I nodded.

"Okay. We get there, get Daryl, get a car, get the fuck outta dodge."

I shook my head, "wait, wait. I don't get it."

His eyebrows furrowed, "what is there to get? I just told you the damn plan."

"You just said we're gonna get there and leave."

"Yeah. And?"

"Why are we goin' there to leave?"

"What do you think this is? I told you I'm goin' to Daryl. That's all that matters. Chinaman and his girl are gonna blab, we need to be gone before that happens. Soon as it does, Gov's gonna know where we went, then he's gonna come after us. Sooner we're gone, the better. He's gonna be lookin' for you to after this, find out we crossed him. You wanna stay with those pricks, whatever. I don't give a shit. Not your keeper. But Daryl and I are gone."

I knew I was just parroting him, but I still couldn't wrap my mind around it. "You're gonna run away from the prison? With Daryl? And go where?"

"Don't matter, make a plan once I get to him. I don't care if ya tag along or not, just know you take care of yourself, not yer babysitter, not yer keeper, sure as hell ain't yer daddy,"

I scoffed, "or my uncle?" I wasn't sure he heard me because his eyes were again on the map. "Why do you want me to come?"

"Again, I don't give a shit. Either way, you're yer own problem." I saw his lips twitch in a smile, "last I remember, you and Daryl weren't the best of buddies, so if yer taggin' 'long, ya may wanna make a case for yourself."

It took me a moment to remember. Daryl barely spoke to me when we all lived in the Atlanta camp and wouldn't even look at me half the time. In fact, he always seemed pissed off that I was around. It had been so long I hadn't thought about it, but Daryl was definitely different. When exactly had this changed, and why?

I decided not to bring it up because it doesn't matter. "What about everyone else?"

"We'll warn 'em what's comin'. They can do what they want."

After contemplating it, I got almost excited. The last time I went hunting with Daryl, we talked about Carol, but aside from that, I had fun. I loved being outside of the fences. Over the winter, even when I was angry, sad, or just wanted to be alone, he was the only one I really wanted around. Even when he was angry. I didn't hate the group as much as I used to, but that didn't mean I wanted to stay. I had an out; I didn't have to live with Rick or behind bars and fences. I wouldn't have to constantly worry about a dozen people or watch them die; I could just leave.

Then the bad thoughts started. I remembered how bad it was to be on the road, being hungry and scared, going from house to house. Then I got sick, just a damn cold that turned into so much more. Could I handle that again? But . . . Merle and Daryl were going to leave anyway, with or without me. Like me, Daryl was different toward the group; they didn't really fight anymore; he followed directions and helped all the time. He wouldn't even let me say bad things about Rick; he always defended him, even though Rick handcuffed Merle. Would Daryl really leave?

I pushed that from my mind because, at that moment, it wasn't that important. I was thinking about Glenn and Maggie, escaping, and what the Governor would do. Those thoughts made something click in my mind, recalling what Merle had said.

"When do we leave?"

Merle clearly hadn't decided that part because he hesitated, "soon. Maybe within the hour, maybe a few hours from now. I gotta see who's on guard duty."

"Governor is with Maggie and Glenn? Right now?"

"Most likely."

"How do we get them out?" I pressed. I could feel a heavy feeling in my stomach, weighing me down. Some part of me knew the answer.

'Chinaman and his girl are gonna blab, we need to be gone before that happens.'

Once again, Merle's eyes settled on me, steady and concentrated, "we don't."

My lungs stopped working at his words, just for a moment, "B-but you said we could try! That we could-"

"-I said maybe. It's not gonna work out."

"How do you know? We haven't tried! Maybe we can get him away from them, distract him with somethin' and get them out."

"Then what? You know how hard it's gonna be getting over that wall unnoticed? Even if we get caught, I could prob'ly convince 'em of somethin' or try to buy us time. Me and a kid already bring us 'nough red flags, four people? Two that they prob'ly never seen before, and if they do, they know their prisoners!"

Knowing I looked panicked, I stood quickly from the stool, "I'm not leavin' them there! You said he kills! He's gonna kill them!"

Merle surprisingly didn't stand to meet my challenge, only sitting in place, looking angry but controlled.

"You haven't been listenin', girlie." His voice is a low, steady growl, "We go after them, we're dead, and so are they, then your group is next. If we get out, we live, and yer group might too."

"But Glenn and Maggie won't?! They just have to die?!"

Like an idiot, I waited for Merle to answer. He didn't even open his mouth; all I got were his unblinking, ice-blue eyes, staring daggers into me.

I felt myself shiver at his gaze, "N-no. I'm not doin' it. I'm not leavin' them!"

Merle did not react to my outburst, which was a surprise. After all the bickering and arguing we'd been doing, I did not expect silence. His eyes never left mine, causing me to shrink into my seat slightly. I did my best to stand firm, confident and sure, but I knew that wasn't what I was projecting.

Merle stood; the sound of the stool scraping the floor under him made me cringe. I swallowed nervously as he walked around the table, staring me down. Pressing my lips together, I did everything to hold my ground. Something in his calmness, his quiet, was much more frightening than anything he'd said or threatened all day. His slow pace as he walked around the table to me, his demeanour, reminded me of dark clouds rolling in, a storm not far behind.

Or maybe a hurricane.

My blood ran cold once he stopped in front of me, expression wavering, but I kept still as he leaned down, his left arm holding his weight on the table to lower his eyes to meet mine.

"I'm gonna be straight with you. Got it? You ready?" Merle finally said.

I swallowed, my head just barely nodding.

"If you do anything if you come between me and my brother. . ." Merle's voice was a low, harsh whisper. "There is no coming between . . . I won't hesitate. If it's you or Daryl, I'm choosin' him. Every. Time."

My body shook with anxiety, mind screaming that I'd gone too far, said too much. Bad. Bad. Don't be bad. You're in trouble. I waited patiently for the impact.

"Don't kid yourself into thinkin' 'cause yer up here, and not down there with them that I give a shit about you. You are here 'cause I allowed it." Merle's face inched closer, our noses almost touching. I could smell the beer on his breath. "I'm not your friend, and I sure as hell ain't yer daddy. After all the shit I've done to get this far—gettin' a kid outta my way is no skin off my back. You are not gonna fuck this up for me. I won't let you."

I bit the inside of my cheek, attempting to gather my emotions back inside myself, afraid of having them let free for so long. I knew he could see everything I was feeling, and I hated it. I'd once followed this man around like a puppy, waiting on his instructions, grateful for the escape he'd provided me from the group. Was this what he was like? Did I lose all that time in the beginning with Shane for this asshole?

I could feel that deep part of me, the part of me I'd always lived with and complied with. I could feel it tugging, begging me to sit down and be quiet. Stop being bad.

But why?

What was he really going to do about it? Merle wasn't laying a hand on me; no one ever would. This reminder sent an odd feeling of frustration and pride to my chest. I was untouchable.

I wanted to get back to Daryl, to get out of this place and out of whatever danger it posed. But leaving Glenn and Maggie? My dad? Would they all die as soon as we left those gates?

I could remember Dale's strangled sounds of pain as he was dying. The crying and heavy misery everyone secreted when someone died or got close to it. The wailing and fear as they waited on Hershel to die. The scream that ripped from Carol as her arm was severed. The way Shane had looked at me during his last breaths, so whole and living until they just went still, staring into nothing. Into me.

I didn't care for Jimmy, I barely knew him, and it still hurt.

No. I wasn't doing it again. Fuck Merle.

Clutching the can of bubble soda in my hand tightly, making a crunch sound as I bent the metal with my fingers. The sound distracted Merle for just a second, his eyes leaving mine. Without thinking, I took the chance, attempting to throw but mostly pushing the can at him due to his close proximity.

Merle stumbled back just a step and yelled out something. I quickly took my other hand balled up into a fist, swinging it as best I could at his face.

Even distracted and one-handed, he was too quick. He caught my wrist and slammed my arm down into the table, the corner of it roughly digging into my ribcage. I let out an uncontrolled whine that turned into a groan, my head leaning on my shoulder.

Merle's teeth were clenched, heavy breaths rocking his frame. His new mood made it look like we'd been frolicking through flower meadows all day.

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?! After everythin' I been doin'? You coulda been locked up, beggin' to die and gettin' everyone killed with ya! I stopped that. I brought ya here! Yer still breathin' cause I said so, show some appreciation! How 'bout a damn thank you?!"

I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my throat, the table's edge bruising my side, and my arm bent awkwardly. It was difficult to talk in my position, which might've been for the best. I no longer trusted myself or my actions; I was out of control. I should've known better.

At my sounds, Merle's eyes flickered to his hand on my arm. He took it off and stood up straight. Even with the relief of freedom, I kept still, using the position to hide the cowering I would most definitely be doing if I moved.

"I don't beat kids, but Goddamn if you ain't makin' a case for it!" He angrily pointed his finger at my face before speaking again. He wasn't calmer, just quieter. He knew he'd won. There was no need to do anything to me. "Don't push me. You won't win."

I shifted a little, just to ease the pain in my side.

Merle's eyes shut, taking several deep breaths before looking at me again. "Last chance. I'm not toyin' 'round. You want to leave alive? You do what I say. You try anythin' like that again, open yer mouth to any more stupid shit like that, I'm leavin' ya here. I'll lock you up in here and leave. They'd think I was with you. It'd buy me time to get to yer damn prison and get my brother."

I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. I wanted to yell at Merle, to challenge him. But I couldn't. There was not a single fibre in my being that doubted his words.

"Enough about them. There's no daddy or Glenn or Maggie. There's you. If you want to get out of this shit alive, you have a choice to make. You better make it now."

Someone knocked on the door; I gasped softly as our heads snapped toward it.

"Jesus Christ," he strode over to it, "never had so many people knock on my door in one damn day. Who is it?!"

"Martinez."

I stepped away from the table, out of sight from the door as Merle opened it. "What now?"

"You got mail."

"What?"

"Clothes from Helen, probably. She told me she would bring stuff over for your girl."

Merle sighed and bent over, lifting something and dropping in on the floor inside the apartment. When it was on the floor, he used his hand to lift the flap of the cardboard box, "Yeah. You didn't bring this over?"

"No. It was outside your door."

"So what you doin' here then?"

"Boss wants you."

"Now? Why? Mister high an' mighty's the one that told me to get lost."

"He just finished with the girl. He's pissed and tired of waiting, wants results, so he's getting them."

I saw Merle's shoulders sag from behind. "Fine, okay. Yeah. I'm comin'."

Merle turned to look at me, shifting out of the way slightly for Martinez to do the same. He didn't seem to care that the man would no longer think I was sleeping.

"Stay here," he commanded. "I mean it, I'll be back-"

"-Boss wants her too." Martinez interrupted.

Merle looked back at him so fast I thought he'd have whiplash, "What the hell for?"

"I told you, Dixon." Martinez spoke slowly and softly, looking regretful as his eyes landed on me. "he wants results."

"Come on, man . . ." Merle pleaded.

"My hands are tied. You know how this works."

Merle sighed, rubbing his face before looking back at me. I waited while he stood quiet for a few moments, then waved me forward. Reluctantly, I moved forward, following him into the hallway and, soon, out of the building.

I was sitting in the place I was before, at the table that I'd sat and cried to the Governor. Merle told me to stay there while he and Martinez went into the basement. My hand grazed my ear every so often as if it would somehow ease the throbbing. All the yelling and crying hadn't had a good effect on it.

I sat very still and quiet, trying to hear anything below me. I thought I heard talking, but the sound was so low I wasn't sure and couldn't make anything out.

When the basement door opened, I looked to see Martinez standing with a gun in both hands. My gaze flickered toward it with confusion. Neither Merle nor the Governor was with him.

"You have to come with me now, honey."

Martinez's face was blank, I tried to replicate it, but something in his voice made it difficult. I stood and did what he said without question, eyeing the sub-machine gun he held firmly with two hands. I passed him and descended down the stairs, hearing his footsteps follow behind me.

I slowed when I reached the bottom of the stairs, nervous and confused where to go and what to do. Merle stepped out of a room down the hall, his hand over a handgun holstered on his hip.

Merle looked solemn as his eyes met mine, then he nudged his head to the room. I entered the room with the two men behind me.

My jaw nearly dropped as my muscles tensed. The Governor was standing at a wall, holding a handgun and aiming it across the room.

I only saw Maggie's naked back first. She was holding on to Glenn tightly and sobbing. Glenn looked at me with a panicked expression and clenched his teeth. There were tears streaks down his face, showing that he'd been crying too. There was a mess of blood around his mouth and nose, a round purple bruise around his eye.

"Looks like our guest of honour is here." The Governor said. I looked at him and saw he was no longer the nice man I met; he wore a fierce yet tortured expression.

"Glenn?" My voice squeaked with fear as Maggie turned around quickly, one of her arms staying on Glenn while the other attempted and failed to cover her bare chest.

"Toby!" she exclaimed, pushing away from Glenn to get to me.

Martinez was beside me quickly, aiming his SMG at her, "Uh uh. Back."

Maggie's lip quivered, and she sobbed again, hugging herself with both arms as she shook.

"You wanted to see her," the Governor said, suddenly smiling. "Here she is, unharmed. Now that you see I'm a man of my word, tell me, where are your people?"

Maggie's face scrunched up to sob again while Glenn frantically looked around at everyone. I glanced at Merle, noticing how he was very subtly shaking his head at Glenn.

The Governor pointed his handgun at Glenn. I hadn't even noticed it until then. I heard a whimper escape Maggie as Glenn pushed her back, stepping in front to block the gun's aim.

After a long moment of silence, the Governor turned to look at me, and I all but shrank into myself.

The Governor leaned toward me menacingly before grabbing ahold of my arm and yanking me toward him. Maggie called out, but I didn't fight back at first or bother doing anything out of surprise.

Clutching my bicep tightly, he held me to his side. I tried to pull away but froze, my lungs paralyzed when the gun aimed at me.

My mind briefly flashed to that morning with Merle, sitting in the back seat when he pointed his own gun at me for a short time.

I tried to turn my head to Merle, but the Governor yanked my arm roughly whenever I moved, forcing me to focus. I almost expected Merle or even Martinez to say or do something, but nothing happened.

Glenn looked furious; even a low outburst of anger came out from behind his teeth. Maggie shook her head at the Governor, crying hard, "don't. Stop this, please."

"Tell me where your people are," he tapped my cheek with the barrel. A shaky breath escaped me, but I sucked it back in, trying not to freak out or do anything.

I could see the conflict in Maggie's face and knew what she would say when she opened her mouth.

"No!" I blurted. The Governor's hand quickly left my arm and wrapped itself around the back of my neck before I could do anything. A whimper of pain escaped, but I continued anyway, "he ain't gonna shoot me. I'm a kid." He squeezed hard, then I raised my head as much as I could and could just barely see his face above mine. "You ain't gonna do shit."

I heard a low whistle from Martinez before whispering to Merle, "if I didn't already know you were related, I'd have some questions."

The Governor sighed behind me, "well?"

I was relieved to see Maggie and Glenn hesitate, battling what to do. That was until the loud bang of the gun sounded only inches from my ear, and I screamed.

For a long time, all I could process was the loud ringing in my ear, then the noisy, fast pounding of my heart against my chest.

I blinked several times, feeling lightheaded. Glenn held on tightly to Maggie, who was only looking at me. I could hear yelling around me but couldn't focus on the words or differentiate the voices.

"Next one goes in her head," His voice sounded odd and far away at first. I shook my head, trying to regain a sense of my surroundings. As things became clearer, I flinched when the sound of the hammer of the gun being pulled back, loading another bullet into the chamber. Weakly, I tried to tear away but barely budged.

"The prison," Maggie sobbed. I would've cried right with her if I could calm my breathing.

"That place is overrun."

"We took it," she said.

"How many are you?"

"Fourteen. We have fourteen now."

"Fourteen people cleared that whole prison of biters?" The Governor questioned in disbelief. He dragged me a few steps away before shoving me forward into somebody.

A hand was gently placed on my shoulder. Looking up at Merle, I could see his expression was seemingly passive.

"Did she tell you they were in a prison?" The Governor asked behind me.

Merle's eyes didn't leave mine. His passive expression turned to anger, "no."

Behind me, I could hear the Governor stomping toward us before passing out the door. At that moment, I had shrunk into Merle a bit.

"Toby?" I heard Maggie say. "Oh, God."

I turned my head, checking that the Governor wasn't around. Only Merle and Martinez had stayed. I looked at Maggie, who again tried to approach me, but Martinez stopped her.

Then I noticed both Maggie and Glenn staring down at my legs.

I saw the splotch of dark red soaking into my pants and could feel the warm, wet stickiness against my right calf.

"I . . ." I looked up at Merle, my heart speeding up again. "I got shot?"

Merle's angered or passive expression was gone. He looked regretful, maybe even sad. "Come on," he tapped my shoulder.

I shook my head, trying to back away to Glenn and Maggie, but Martinez was behind me.

I pulled from Merle, but he only reached and pulled on me again. "Stop!"

"It's time to go."

I wanted to keep yelling, to hit him and scream. But my eyes went to my leg, the spot of red only getting bigger.

Merle leaned forward, the arm with the metal casing going under my legs as he lifted me into his arms, carrying me out the door. His opposite arm supported my upper back, and his hand squeezed my shoulder as he carried me out the door.

"Merle, wait." I heard Glenn say. "Please, don't."

"Sorry, kid," Merle muttered under his breath.

I didn't know what to say to him, so I didn't say anything. My mind felt like a thick, heavy fog had settled in, making it incapable of absorbing new information. I'd barely noticed the walk up the stairs and out of the building, not until Martinez called out and I realized we were outside.

"Dixon! Where are you going?"

"The fuckin' doc, where ya think I'm goin'?"

Doc. Doctor. That was good.

Martinez only shook his head, eyes wide-set as he stared into Merle's.

"You've gotta be shittin' me." Merle finally growled out, understanding the man's silence.

"Too many questions. The boss doesn't want that."

"So what am I s'posed to do, beaner? Huh?"

"His place, he's gonna have questions for her," Martinez answered. It wasn't the first time I realized the quiet steadiness in his voice, the way he refused to look at me.

"And when a civilian sees me carryin' my bleedin' niece down the road?"

"It's curfew." Came the answer, as if it solved all the problems.

Merle's head turned, glancing around as if noticing his surroundings for the first time.

"Fine," Merle grunted, lifting me slightly and shifting my position. His arms were getting tired, but he made no move to release me. I thought about wiggling out of his arm, walking myself, but something about his tight grip and warmth made me stop. My mind felt sluggish, my body still shivering in fear with no desire to stand on my own without that warmth. With my knees bent, dangling over his arm, I couldn't see my wound; standing meant I would. I didn't want to see it, possibly even scared to. Maybe I could pretend it didn't happen; perhaps it didn't really happen.

"How bad?" Merle asked as we followed after Martinez. I didn't realize Merle was talking to me until he tapped my shoulder.

"Huh?"

"How bad's it hurt?"

"I-I-I don't. . . I do-don't know." That was the truth. My pant leg was wet and warm; that was all I could register.

Before I knew it, we were inside. It took me just a moment to register it was the Governor's place, where we'd eaten dinner with him not so long before.

"Where the hell is he?" Merle demanded, walking across the room before bending down and releasing me into an oversized cushioned chair.

"Maybe grabbing Milton? He's going to want to plan a raid now. Move, I'll take a look."

Merle stepped back from me without hesitation, just staring with an expression of shock and anger. "Hurry the fuck up with it then."

The room we were in was large, with lots of lamps, books, and lounge chairs. But I couldn't focus on much else.

"You good?" Martinez tapped my forehead. I blinked several times, a fog lifting from my mind. I leaned over, looking down at my crimson-soaked pant leg.

"Don't look," Martinez pushed my head up just a second too late, then proceeded to roll up his sleeves.

"I'm shot," more blinking, I felt more awake and aware, as if I'd been sleeping.

"I know," Merle said gruffly, standing far behind Martinez.

"He shot me!" The outburst ripped out from me without warning. He tugged on my pant leg, but I jerked away from him.

"Sit still," he instructed, grabbing onto my leg and beginning to pull up the material.

"Merle, I got fuckin' shot!" My voice was shrill, cracking with my exclaims. "Did you see him shoot me? He fuckin' shot me!"

"Yes, I saw," Merle said, concentrating on Martinez, who pulled my pant leg higher. I could feel the stickiness of the blood that had begun to dry the material against my leg.

I could feel my eyes wanting to pop out of my skull, "why did you let him shoot me?!"

Merle's head turned toward the door, then looked back at me with a warning glance. "Shush. I hear him comin'."

"No, I won't shush!" My voice squeaked, so high in hysterics, I wasn't sure he could understand me. "I was shot!"

I could feel Martinez roll up my pant leg to my knee. I winced as soon as the air hit it. It burned, feeling like someone was holding scalding hot metal against the side of my calf.

"It's a graze," Martinez informed.

"A graze?" I echoed.

"Yeah, you're fine. It's fine." In the last part, he turned and said to Merle.

"The blood . . .?"

"A graze will bleed too," he assured me.

I felt my entire body sink into the cushioned chair as the Governor just casually swaggered in. My eyes stayed glued to the man, not willing to let him out of my sight.

I sucked in a quick breath of pain as Martinez's hand pressed against my wound. I looked at him quickly, trying to figure out why, but realized I should be watching the Governor.

As I watched the man that shot me, Martinez spoke to me quietly. "This will hurt, but we want to stop the bleeding." I understood but was still going to be mad about it. I could feel the thump-thump of my pulse against his hand.

The Governor stood across the room, his arms crossed and eyes steady on Merle, "Do you want to explain this to me?"

"Boss," Martinez cleared his throat. I could tell he was careful with his words, but he kept calm when turning his head toward the Governor. "I know you're angry, and there's a lot to talk about, but she's bleeding quite a bit here."

"I'm angry and disappointed. Merle, you assured me you could handle this." The Governor's eyes went to me. I almost looked away out of fear but froze. "Milton is on his way. I instructed him to bring a first aid kit. How bad is it?"

"It grazed her leg."

The Governor nodded, the information enough for him to look at Merle and move on, "You said she couldn't pinpoint the location."

"That's what she told me," Merle waved a hand at me. "said they don't stay in one place for too long, said they were in some house."

"So who's lying then?"

All eyes in the room darted to me. My leg burned, and my stomach knotted. I wanted to throw up. "Me," I admitted, not knowing what else to do and aware that the Governor could still have the gun.

The Governor was confused. "Why did you lie?"

I pressed my lips together, unsettled by how calm and casual his mood was. As if he didn't fire a gun at me, "I-I got scared, confused." My eyes stayed on Merle, looking for some kind of hint. I didn't want to blow our cover, but I didn't know what to do. He didn't have the chance to coach or guide me. I was on my own.

"What were you scared of?"

My head spun back at him so fast. I was almost at a loss for words. "You just shot me!"

He actually looked regretful, gaze unwavering, "and for that, I apologize. I sincerely didn't mean for it to hit you. I only wanted to scare your friends."

My jaw just went slack. I lost my words then.

"You're going to be fine. My friend Milton will patch you up." he gestured a hand at me softly. I knew he didn't care because he redirected the subject quickly. "Now, why not tell your uncle where your group is? Don't you want him and your daddy together again?"

I whimpered slightly at the pain in my leg, trying not to cringe at the constant closeness and physical contact Martinez was providing.

I had to take a long time to decide what to say, which was easy to do when I exaggerated my sniffling and whimpering. My wound had bought me time to think it over. I didn't have a ton of options. I had the truth. Looking at Merle, I could tell simply by his passive expression that he didn't know either. As far as the Governor was concerned, Merle didn't know anything. Maybe we could fix it all if I kept playing that.

"Uncle Merle found us . . ." I started, looking down at Martinez, who was focused on my wound. I couldn't risk being too frightened by the Governor. Avoiding the man's eyes was best for concentration. "Glenn and Maggie were really scared. I wanted to say something, but Glenn didn't say anything, and he kept lookin' at me. I thought maybe there was a reason they were keepin' their mouths shut."

"Smart kid," the Governor commented, turning to Merle.

"Must be the Dixon blood," Merle remarked, almost jokingly, but his tone didn't match as he stared at my leg.

"Are you lying about anything else?"

The question startled me so much I looked right at him. Swallowing nervously, I had to think it over. What else had I said besides claiming Merle as my family? I shook my head slowly. I couldn't tell if he believed me, but it seemed enough.

The door opened, and the Milton guy walked in, looking lost with a white container in his hands. "What's going on? Why did you need a first aid kit?"

Milton looked the Governor up and down, not bothering to look in my direction.

"We had a little accident," the Governor waved at me.

Milton finally turned, stepping to the side to see around the mess of blood on my leg Martinez was blocking. "Uh, sh-shouldn't we get Dr. Stevens then?"

"Yes," I growled out. Even though the woman had seemed annoying to Merle earlier, I preferred her to anyone else in the room.

"Can't afford her asking questions, accident or not."

Accident, accident. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

Milton slowly walked over, eyes never leaving my leg. "what happened?"

I could tell by his shocked yet resigned tone of voice that he was asking me. As if I had somehow done it to myself. "mister high an' mighty over there shot me!" I pointed and let myself yell.

Milton spun around, "You . . . you shot her? Why?"

I was almost grateful that he looked both shocked and appalled. It seemed like a much more appropriate reaction than the others I'd witnessed.

"I shot at her."

"Oh, fuck-ah!" I yelped as Martinez squeezed my leg tighter to stop me, giving me a warning look while subtly shaking his head. I complied, gritting my teeth with a glare to communicate I was not happy.

"I was trying to get answers out of the people downstairs," he ignored my outburst and continued. "Accidentally nicked her leg, Martinez assured it's only a graze."

"Hell lotta blood for a graze." Merle muttered offhandedly.

"Is she okay?" Milton asked Martinez.

"It's a graze, but deep. I think she needs stitches."

"Stitches?" My voice cracked.

"Then do it." The Governor instructed, and everyone ignored me.

Martinez kept a hold of my leg but scooted over for Milton. It was bad enough with Martinez's hands on me, but my stomach felt full of dread at the thought of Milton doing the same.

"Well . . ." Milton swallowed nervously. He looked a bit pale when I thought about it.

"Well, what?"

"I'm not the best person for this job," I couldn't see him sweating, but he wiped his forehead. Then fiddled with the kit in his hands. "I don't have a lot of experience with sutures. Not the best around blood, my hands are not all too steady for it."

The pain in my leg was gone for a moment, Milton's words bouncing around in my brain. I was so surprised I lost control, "You . . . have a problem . . . with blood."

Milton swallowed again, staring at my leg as if I'd been bitten.

"Yer shittin' me right now." I blurted Merle's earlier statement, turning to look at my' uncle'. "Is he serious?"

Merle rolled his eyes, and the Governor ran a hand over his face in frustration.

"I'll do it, stitched myself up a couple times before," Martinez said.

I didn't want anyone to do it. I could feel my pulse quicken in fear at the thought of it.

"Just clean the wound and stop the bleeding. Martinez can stitch it up when we're done."

Milton stood there in silence. The dumb look on his face made me wonder if he would throw up.

Martinez swore and stood quickly, grabbing the kit from his hands, "Vamanos, puto, do it myself."

Martinez pushed my pant leg up higher, I tried to look, but he leaned forward to work on it, his head blocking my vision. "Just going to clean it up and stop the bleeding for now, okay?"

I nodded even though he couldn't hear me. My nails dug into the palms of my hands, hoping to distract from the burning pain. I flinched and groaned when he touched it, whipping the area with antiseptic wipes.

"Wh-what was it you wanted to discuss?" Milton asked the Governor, still seemingly having to recover from the sight of my blood. You'd think he's the one that got shot. What a dick.

"We were able to get answers out of them. The girl said they took the prison near Nunez."

"How many of them are there?

"There's fourteen of them altogether."

"That's deep in the red zone. There's no way only fourte-"

"-So she's lying?" The Governor cut Milton off. "Cause if she's lying, that means a pretty sizable force has moved into our backyard. But if she's not . . ." he turned to Merle, closing in on him. "this group with your brother at its core has done something you told me couldn't be done. They did it. Your brother might be out there right now, searching for them. Blood is blood, right? Makes me wonder where your loyalties lie."

I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. I kept waiting, terrified everything was ruined, that he would just pull a gun out and shoot Merle too.

Merle's eyes met mine, and for the first time, I read every emotion on his face. I had no question about what he was feeling, which scared me the most. He was just as scared and unsure as I was.

Merle's eyes darted to the Governor, "Here."

The Governor gave him an approving nod and slapped him on the shoulder. "You two have the girl stitched up, then get a small group and scout this prison. I want to know exactly what we're dealing with."

"Yeah, you got it," Martinez said without hesitation.

"Finish up at your place, get her out. Then keep her there until we figure this out. We want to keep this quiet." The Governor told Merle.

The Governor sat down, rubbing his hands anxiously while staring at a wall straight ahead.

I whined as Martinez tightened a bandage around my leg.

I tried not to show it with the Governor only a few feet away, but the pain was too much. Martinez noticed.

"Here," Martinez wrapped his arm around me and helped me walk. "You want me to just carry you?"

"No," I said. There was only a trace of a lie, I had no desire to be carried, but with how much my leg hurt, I didn't want to walk either.

"You good?" Merled asked. I only glared at him.

I stared at the stairs in dismay when we got to the building. Once again, Martinez noticed, and that time I let him carry me up. He continued to carry me until we got to Merle's door.

Martinez opened the door for me and gestured for the leather recliner, "go sit."

I limped over carefully then sat down in the recliner as instructed, trying my best to think of anything other than my leg's pain.

"Are stitches really necessary?" Merle asked.

Martinez nodded, "It doesn't look great. There's a small bridge where the bullet passed under her skin."

My eyes widened, and I went to look, briefly forgetting about the bandage hiding it. I did see that I'd already bled through the bandage.

"That sounds a bit worse than a graze, brownie."

"Fuck you. You wanted me to say it was worse in front of him? Have you acting like even more of an idiot?"

"Whatever. Can you just do it and get lost?"

"Did you know?" Martinez demanded.

"Of course, I didn't know. The hell you take me for?" Merle said quickly, not looking at him.

"Oh, pinche mentiroso. You knew! Who is this kid?"

I cringed at the wording, looking at Merle at what to do. We'd been caught. Was he going to tell?

Merle had the audacity to try, "She's-"

"-I'm serious, Dixon. Who the hell is this kid?"

"Just-" Merle sighed, the act disappearing from his face "-some kid. Can you drop it?"

"No! You really screwed up."

"I had to find out where Daryl was," Merle shrugged but didn't seem as casual as he wanted to show.

"Does this have anything to do with him? Does this kid even know him?"

"Of course! You think I'm starting a daycare or somethin'? Why else would she be here?"

"I don't know, man. I really don't know."

"I'll figure it out."

"No, you won't. There's nothing to figure out. You screwed those people and this kid. This kid got shot at! And she's lucky!" Martinez glanced at me. "Sorry, honey, it's true. And I don't even know or want to know what he did to that chick downstairs-"

"-that's not on me." Merle cut him off.

"Damn right it's on you! You could've kept going and left those people be." Martinez clicked his tongue and went to sit on the floor in front of me.

"Get off yer high horse. You ain't done any better than me, so don't act like it!" Merle kicked something on the ground with his outburst; it was my soda can from before. "It was your fault the black bitch got out, I couldn't come back with nothin', and you know it!"

"You could have. It would have been fine," Martinez lifted my leg into his lap, even I could tell his tone was not convinced. Black bitch?

"Yeah, you keep tellin' yourself that. Don't think for a fuckin' second I don't know what you did. It's your fault she got out! I don't know if you just fucked up or let her go or . . ." Merle trailed off as he stared at Martinez, who just focused on unravelling my bandage. "you did. You let her go."

"He was torturing her." Martinez took some swabs and wipes from the kit and cleaned the blood again. "Worse. I couldn't let that go on."

"So, I just get fucked over, goin' on a wild goose chase then? Bitch killed our men, coulda killed me! How do you think shit woulda went if I came back with all of 'em dead and nothing to show for it."

"I . . . I don't know, all right, asshole? I don't know."

"Hmph." Merle huffed, studying into the kitchen and opening a cupboard. "You want a beer?"

"Yes." Martinez ground out.

I watched him go through the kit and pull out the curved needle wrapped in plastic. Biting my lip at the sight of the metal, a flash of anxiety made me feel hot.

Martinez took his time tying a knot in the thread before and nodding to Merle, who left a beer on the floor beside him.

"This might hurt a little," he said, glancing up at me. "Don't look."

I hated it, but I had to tear my eyes away from what he was doing. He didn't say anything before pushing the needle through my skin, and I hissed at the pain. I felt my skin tug as the knot reached my leg.

"Ow," I muttered, keeping my head facing away.

"I know," was all he said.

"What if you're doin' it wrong?" I worried.

"I'm not doing it wrong."

It didn't feel any better the second time, and my leg would have jerked backwards if he wasn't holding it down with his hand. My leg flinched harder the next time, and instead of using his hand, Martinez rested his whole arm on my ankle, pressing it down against his leg.

"Sit still," he ordered.

"It hurts!"

"Well, we couldn't get anything to numb it," he stated, pressing down harder on my leg when he pushed the needle through again. "Just a few more, then you can get some rest."

"Maybe I should give her a beer?" Merle said, but there was an odd questioning tone like he wasn't sure.

I nodded. "Yes."

"No," Martinez scoffed, and then he turned his head and looked over at Merle, "I don't know how I believed you had a niece."

"Would you have believed I was a dad?"

"Hell no."

I had been so focused on listening to them argue that I hadn't realized Martinez had done any more stitches until he patted the side of my leg. "One more."

Why'd he have to tell me?

"Ow!" I yelled, finally looking down at my leg. Most of the blood was cleaned. I grimaced at the stitches, forming a crooked like across my calf. The end of the stitches stuck out with frayed edges, it looked so unnatural, black thread fused into my skin.

"It looks . . ."

"Good?" Martinez grinned at me, "I know what I'm doing."

"I was gonna say weird. I hate it. Is it going to look like that forever?" I asked the question when it dawned on me.

"No. No. You leave it like that so it heals for a few weeks, then take it out."

"Take . . . it out?" I turned to Merle, concerned.

"Don't worry 'bout that now," Merle took a few gulps of his beer. Martinez leaned back, sitting in a more comfortable position on the floor, before doing the same. He looked calmer, relieved.

"Okay, I'm out." Martinez stood after several minutes, placing the bottle on the kitchen table. I could tell by the clink of the glass that the bottle was empty.

"Wait!" Suddenly I did not want him to go. I wasn't sure if it was because I was worried he would tell on us or something else. "Why?"

"You're fine," he tried to assure me. I didn't know if he meant the wound or trouble with the Governor. Then turned to Merle, "I'm going to see Milton. Whatever you're planning . . ."

"It won't involve you."

I thought Merle had said the wrong thing. I was worried and a little disappointed. I really liked having Martinez around. Being mean to him cutting him out seemed like the wrong thing to do.

Contrary to my thoughts, it was the right thing to say. Because Martinez nodded and held his hand out, Merle put his bottle on the table and took it. Then men shook firmly, and Martinez left.

I blinked after him in surprise, unsure what to make of the exchange.

"Feel any better?"

I shook my head. "It fuckin' hurts. Is he gonna tell?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. He might if he has to, but s'long as the Gov don't suspect we're good."

"And does he?"

"No. We're fine." He said, clearly unconvinced.

"So what do we do? Do we leave?"

"Not now, no. They might call me down to plan the raid, and if I'm gone, they'll know. We won't have time to get there."

I tried to think of what we could do, but I was lost. "Who were you talkin' 'bout? Who was gettin' tortured?"

"No." Merle waved a hand to dismiss my questions. "Just go to sleep. For now, you can sleep in my bed. Go through Helen's box, get out of that bloody shit."

"No, I want to help."

Merle shook his head at me. "You can't help with this. You bein' outta my hair and quiet will help me. Just rest. It's late. We might leave in a few hours before the sun's up. We might leave in the mornin'. I don't know yet. It's all fucked up."

Merle didn't look at me again; instead, the map was laid out again as he stared it down. I swallowed thickly, trying not to cry again. I was terrified for Glenn and Maggie, myself, and even Merle. There was nothing I could do but sit back and let whatever was gonna happen . . . happen.

I knew I'd done something wrong when I snuck into that car, but I never thought it could turn out like this.

Deciding not to argue or push him further, I limped over to Helen's box, eyeing the bold writing on the top. Something looked familiar somehow. "Merle?"

"Hmm?" He hummed, not looking at me.

"What's it say?"

Merle turned his head, confused for a moment before his eyes shifted to the box. "Toby Dixon." Then he was back to the map. "You need help to the bed?"

"No," I mumbled. My leg hurt worse when I walked after the stitches. Each step made me want to cry out. I didn't want him to know, though. I wasn't going to be a baby.

I opened the flaps to the box and went through it. The contents provided a slight distraction from the pain. I found socks, some shirts and two pairs of jeans. I couldn't tell if they would fit, but they didn't seem far off. Everything looked like it would be a better fit than what was given to me earlier in the day. I froze when I found a plastic package of underwear never opened, then quickly glanced at Merle. Relieved he hadn't seen. I hid the package under the rest of the clothes. I almost put jeans on right before I found the pyjamas.

It was two pieces attached by some kind of plastic stick. I pulled them apart with a snap! And looked at each part better. The pants were pale pink, littered with little black stars. I tilted my head on examination, fascinated and pleased. The other piece was a tank top, which I was less pleased with, having the same pale pink, but there was an image on the front.

My fingers traced the outline of the white unicorn, with curly flowing hair surrounded by more little black stars.

I didn't want to like them, but I really did. Though they were the only pair of pyjamas in the box, it would be easy to defend myself, so I wouldn't look like a baby.

The idea of showing more skin on my arms than I already was bothered me, but I dismissed it. I needed to change and wanted to sleep. No one had noticed or said anything about the marks on my arms all day. Maybe they weren't actually that noticeable.

Assuring myself that I didn't really want to wear them and that wearing them would just make Helen happy, I took the pyjamas to the bedroom. I went slowly, limping but trying not to. Each step was excruciating.

I finally made it, closing the door behind me and beginning to change in the darkness.

I first took off the orange t-shirt, tossing it on the floor and putting the tank top on. It was a little long, baggy around my arms, but soft and comfortable. I reached for the pants and paused, blinking, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me.

Then I grabbed them, and on closer inspection, I realized. The tiny stars had a very dim subtle glow. I turned the pants over in my hands, looking at every inch of the fabric. It wasn't bright, but they actually glow in the dark! I was so surprised and awed by this I almost shouted out to Merle but stopped myself.

I struggled to get my pants off, whimpering and whining while moving my leg, the fabric brushing against it every so often. Finally, they were off. Putting the pyjama pants on was much more manageable. They were just a little big, making them baggy, and the material was thin and soft, so a little contact to the stitches didn't hurt as much.

Afterward, I crawled into bed carefully, willing myself not to cry. I hoped the pain would stop soon; it was terrible. And every time I felt it throb, I wondered if it would happen again. I had no desire to leave the apartment unless we were leaving Woodbury.

I laid on top of the blanket, my body curled slightly to gaze at the tiny glowing stars.

I listened to Merle pace around the apartment, hearing his voice say something unintelligible every so often. For a long time, I waited, thinking it would have a grand idea and burst through the door to tell me.

He didn't.

I wondered if I could've done something better if I could have helped better. Should I have told him about the prison sooner? Would it have mattered? If I did, would I already be back with Daryl?

Daryl. I missed him. I needed him to tell me what to do. I would listen this time, I would. I should've listened to him before. Rubbing my eyes, I tried to imagine how happy he would be to see Merle and how this could work out in the end.

Before I could make sense of anything, I was screaming. That was all I knew and all I wanted to do. My body quaked and shook with fear, reaching out around me to push whatever it was away from me. But there was nothing. I felt so scared with no explanation.

Then I felt it on my shoulder and yelled again, tears streaming from my eyes. A sharp feeling of pain in my leg surprised me when I moved it.

"Hey, stop, look, look!"

Merle was holding the back of my head with his hand, forcing me to look at him.

"Shut up and look."

I looked, seeing his eyes just barely in the darkness. I had to work hard to convince myself I wasn't on the road, not surrounded by Walkers, not being shot at, and not locked in a room with a dying Jimmy.

"See?" Merle patted my head before glancing around. "Just look around. Four walls and a roof. Nothin' here."

I nodded but didn't feel convinced. He was right, I jumped a little when I saw the curtain twitch at the window, but it was just the wind.

"Fuck, this still goin' on?"

I looked at him, surprised before remembering that night, a long time ago, when he found me by the dying campfire in Atlanta.

"Sometimes," I mumbled shakily.

"Can't blame you. Was a fuckin' shitty day. Now move."

My eyes widened, scared of his tone for a moment. Was he mad? Had I woken him up? Was I being kicked out of the room?

"Kid, I don't give a shit what happened. You ain't in trouble, but if ya don't move yer scrawny ass, you're gonna be." He waved his hand in a gesture.

Then I understood and scooted to the other side of the bed, then he hopped on and laid down, manoeuvring his stump under his pillow.

"Are we goin'?" I asked.

"Not now. I don't care if yer gonna sleep there just be quiet. Need rest."

I swallowed and looked at him, feeling sad and disappointed he didn't have an answer.

"What?"

"I . . ." I didn't know how to say what I was thinking or if I should even bother.

"Spit it out so I can sleep. What?"

"I just . . . it's weird. I can't believe you're alive, that you're here. Any of this today it's just . . . weird."

I heard him scoff in the darkness, just barely able to make out his crystal blue eyes, "I ain't so easy to kill. Could say the same 'bout you."

Slowly, I laid back down because what else was I supposed to do? Merle was meant to have a plan, and he didn't.

"Hey, Merle?" I said after several minutes, staring into the darkness.

"Mhm?"

"What happened in Atlanta?"

I could hear my own heart beating and his soft breaths in the silence that followed. The question held a lot of anxiety for me to ask, and it only built with each passing moment he didn't answer.

"Merle?" I finally coaxed.

"Shuddup," he mumbled. "Sleepin'."

I jolted awake sometime later, heart racing and the stitches burning in my leg. This time, I had no idea what woke me. I hadn't remembered the nightmare that woke me before, but I still knew it was a nightmare. This was different.

I looked at Merle, who had lifted his head off this pillow. Something had woke him too. Was it me? I didn't think so.

"Merle?"

"Shh." He said.

There it was. My whole body flinched then tensed. The loud yet distant sound of cracking and snapping. The sharp sounds of gunfire.

"DOWN! ON THE FLOOR!" Merle shouted at me, shoving me roughly. I half fell, half climbed down to the floor.

"Stay down!" I heard him order. He was on the other side of the bed. I did what he said, my palms flat and cheek hovering just an inch above the floor.

After a moment, I saw him, crouching low, making his way to the window. He stood up beside it, back flat against the wall when he made it. Merle reached out his hand, moving the curtain slightly to peek out the window.

"What is it?" I said quietly.

In the dark, I could see him frown. "No Biters. Not a breach. We're being attacked."

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