Anna shot up, pawing at her eyes to tear the cloth away, only to find nothing there. Her chest heaved as she opened her eyes and stared around the car. She knew she was going to react this way when she woke up, but she still wanted to puke.

She shifted in the back seat so that she sat normally and focused on her breathing. Her fingers twitched and her skin tingled.

Anna hadn't wanted to sleep in the car, but it was her safest option after the sun went down and she was too tired to keep on her feet. She needed sleep and safety; she couldn't get hung up on the panic.

After what felt like hours, the sun finally began to rise over the horizon and filter through the trees. She pulled her jacket closer around her as a cool breeze came through the crack in the window, stirring the air within the cab of the car. It was probably Fall—maybe early in the season with the afternoons still being so warm.

Pulling her satchel into her lap, Anna dug around for the other granola bar she had packed and her book. She ripped open the wrapper and started in on her breakfast as she flipped through the pages of The Art of War.

Before long, Anna finished off her granola bar and shut her book, tucking both it and the wrapper into her satchel. She climbed out of the car, turning back only to get her stick. She pushed the door shut and walked away, wanting to leave the memories behind as quickly as possible.

A rustle caught her attention and she paused, readying her stick before darting behind a tree. She peered around it, expecting to see a walker when she spotted a familiar brown hat.

"The hell?" She muttered to herself, stepping out from behind the tree. "Carl, what the hell are you doing out here?"

Carl jumped and pulled his gun at her sudden appearance, only to relax when he saw that it was her. She noted how he was wearing the jacket she had scavenged for him.

"I'm—uh…," he trailed off.

"Don't lie to me," Anna warned, and a guilty look flashed across his face.

"I'm looking for someone," he said.

"Who?" Anna asked, furrowing her brow.

"I don't know who he is," Carl admitted. "But he isn't a Savior," he insisted. "I ran into him at a gas station. Dad scared him off."

"How do you know he's not a Savior?" Anna asked skeptically.

"Because, I know," Carl said firmly. "He didn't know anything about what's been going on. He's just some guy."

"And why are you so interested in finding some guy?" She pushed.

Carl pressed his lips together and exhaled heavily through his nose, before reaching into the pocket and pulling out a Ziploc bag with a can of sardines and a small water bottle.

"I wanted to give him some rations and…, maybe bring him back," he said, holding the items out. "After I ask him the questions," he added quickly.

"Carl—"

"I have to do this, Anna," he said, cutting her off. "He deserves a chance—like you said. And because there has to be something after this is all over."

She watched him for a moment, considering the determination on his face. Finally, she nodded.

"All right," she said, starting in the direction Carl had been walking. "But if I think he's trouble, we're not bringing him back with us."

"What if he follows us?" Carl asked.

Anna stopped and turned to him.

"We'll do what we have to do," she said, echoing Morgan.

Carl clenched his jaw, but ultimately nodded.

Isaac settled in his chair, sipping on a glass of water and drumming his fingers on the arm rest. He stared at the picture of Anna resting on the coffee table in front of him. She seemed so calm and focused.

He took another sip and leaned forward, setting the glass on the table before he picked up the photo. It was odd to see how much she had changed from when he had first met her. She had been weak, soft, easily subdued. But now? Something happened between then and now and he was curious as to what. He wondered if Gabriel or Eugene knew, if they could give him some more answers as to the person she'd become.

He realized, however, that her focus seemed to be on Negan. Isaac, it seemed, had been put on the back-burner for the time being, and he was perfectly fine with that. If she somehow managed to take out Negan, there would be a power vacuum—one that would need to be filled. Unfortunately, Simon was lined up to take over. That just wouldn't do.

Isaac leaned back in his chair. He had work to do with Simon.

"You think it's him?" Anna asked.

"It's gotta be," Carl said.

They peered through the trees, watching a walker reaching for a plastic bag hanging from a tree. It was impaled by a sharpened branch and stuck in place. A lanky, scruffy man carefully approached the walker, stabbing it through the back of its head.

Carl stepped forward.

"Hey," he called, and the man froze, staring at them like a frightened deer. "It was my dad," Carl said, his hands raised with the bag of rations in one. "They—they were warning shots above your head. He wasn't shooting at you," he continued, walking forward slowly and cautiously.

Anna followed behind him, keeping one hand ready to grab for her gun.

"I'm Carl. This is Anna," he introduced.

The man stepped around the walker hesitantly, gripping his knife as he looked around for any more people that they may have brought with them.

"Siddiq," he said.

"Food and water," Carl said, holding out the bag.

"Why?" Siddiq asked.

"I guess you—you were talking about something your mom said… about helping people," Carl began. "My mom told me that you got to do what's right. It's hard to know what that is sometimes, but sometimes it's not."

Anna blinked in surprise. Carl never talked about his mom.

Carl tossed the bag toward Siddiq, the rations landing with a thud a few feet away from the man. Siddiq stepped toward the bag, his feet dragging and eyes darting between Carl and Anna before falling to the ground.

He ripped the bag open and went for the water first, drinking greedily. Like he hadn't had water in days. When he brought the bottle away from his lips, he panted for air and looked around as if he'd just woken up from a dream.

"Thanks," he said, bowing his head.

"Glad I found you," Carl said.

"You were looking for me?" Siddiq asked, getting to his feet as he tucked the sardines into his pocket.

"Yeah, I—I scavenged the sardines, other stuff," Carl explained. "Me and Anna, we're in a community."

Siddiq's eyes widened, and Anna thought she saw a spark of hope.

"I'm gonna ask you a few questions," Carl said. "I need you to answer honestly, okay?"

"Okay," Siddiq agreed.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Carl started. "I know it's hard to keep track—"

"Two hundred and thirty-seven," Siddiq said, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Really?" Carl asked.

"Give or take a couple," Siddiq clarified, looking back at the walker stuck in his trap.

"How many people have you killed?" Carl went on.

Siddiq swallowed hard.

"One," he said, a sort of tired sadness washing over him.

"Why?"

"The dead tried to kill him, but…" he shook his head, "they didn't."

Anna nodded silently, pressing her lips together.

"You're making walker traps," Carl said, changing the subject. "Is that how you killed so many?"

"It's—it's only part of it," Siddiq said. "My mom thought—or hoped—that killing them would… free their souls."

Anna glanced at the walker behind him. Milton had thought something similar. He'd gone on at length in his journals that there was still something of who they were left behind. But she also remembered Jenner; according to him, nothing was left.

She wished it were otherwise, but she agreed with Jenner.

"You know? Maybe—maybe she was right," Siddiq said.

"Doesn't that just make it harder to survive?" Anna asked.

"I—I don't know," he said, looking away for a moment before looking back at them. "I… But you gotta—you gotta honor your parents, right?"

"If I was honoring my dad, we wouldn't be talking right now," Carl laughed.

"And we definitely wouldn't bring him back with us," Anna added.

Carl looked back at her questioningly and Anna nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. Carl smiled at her before turning back to Siddiq, who stared between them with relief.

Emma walked down the line, eyeing the prisoners in her peripheral as she approached Jesus, her hand on the gun strapped to her hip. She was dead on her feet, having stayed up all night with the others, guarding the Saviors. It felt better than just leaving them.

On the other side of the wall, she could hear construction. It had been going throughout the night. Though she wondered what they were building, she couldn't bring herself to check; she was afraid that it would be gallows like Gregory had suggested.

"Jesus," Emma called, and he turned to face her.

Before she could say more, there was a loud bang, and she flinched.

"Still not worried?" One of the Saviors asked, looking up at them.

Emma was struck by how relaxed he seemed, as if he was prepared to accept whatever waited for him on the other side of the wall.

Jesus shifted, leading Emma a few feet away from the others.

"Anna's plan was for the Saviors to surrender. What are we going to do if Maggie…?" She trailed off, unable to even finish the thought.

"I don't think Anna intended for them to be executed after all of this," Jesus agreed. "As for what we'll do…" He shook his head helplessly.

Emma didn't just think Anna wasn't intending for them to be killed—she knew it for a fact. She hadn't known the other woman very long, but she knew her well enough to be certain that she wanted to give these people the opportunity to change. Anna was a good person, despite what she sometimes seemed to think.

The gate creaked open, calling their attention, and Enid came out.

"Maggie says to bring them in," the teen said after a moment's hesitation.

Emma and Jesus looked to each other with mirrored concern. Jesus nodded for the other guards to get the Saviors on their feet and herd them inside. Emma walked beside Jesus through the gates. Her eyes landed on what seemed to be a cage hastily built with enough room to house all of the prisoners comfortably. No gallows in sight.

She looked to Maggie, who held a rifle on her shoulder.

"Get them in," Maggie instructed.

Jesus nodded and stood beside the cage door, gesturing for the Saviors to usher themselves in.

"Come on. Two at a time," Jesus said, relief on his face.

"Starting now, we'll keep the prisoners here," Maggie announced. "We'll feed 'em, we won't mistreat them. But we won't stand for anything less than total cooperation," she said, the last part more of a warning to the Saviors.

"Uh… uh, Margaret, all—all due respect," Gregory began. "Uh, I'm just straight-shooting here."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"You can't let people we don't trust run around inside our walls," Gregory said, eyes wide.

"You're right, Gregory," Maggie said calmly. "In fact, I couldn't stop thinking about what you told me yesterday. You see, I grew up on a farm. I know all about sheep and wolves."

At that, Kal and Eduardo stepped forward and took Gregory by either arm.

"What are you doing?" Gregory asked. "What are you doing?"

"Come on, Gregory," Kal said.

"Let go of me," Gregory ordered. "No. Kal, are you serious? Eduardo? Wait!" He begged, struggling against the men as they led him toward the cage. "This—this can't—wait—"

"Calm down," Eduardo said.

"No, don't tell me to calm down," Gregory snapped. "I am not gonna go in there. You can't. Maggie! Look, just—no, wait, stop! Just for a minute."

"Calm down," Eduardo repeated.

"No, please, no!" Gregory cried, finally ripping himself away from the two.

He immediately started toward Emma, reaching out to her.

"Help me," he pleaded as she took a step back. "No," he said when Kal and Eduardo got hold of him again.

Gregory yanked his arms free again and stumbled forward, his head colliding with the wood frame of the cage before he collapsed to the ground, holding his forehead.

"Oh, God," Gregory muttered. "I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything," he whined.

Kal and Eduardo took him by the arms again and dragged him into the cage as he sobbed.

Emma couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the man as he curled up on the ground, his shoulders shaking—after all, he had given her a place to live. But his cowardice made him a bad leader and a threat to the community.

Sudden movement caught her eye and she reached for her pistol, but Maggie stepped forward and rammed the butt of her rifle into a long-haired Savior's forehead, knocking him to the ground before he could grab Dianne's gun.

He grunted, checking his face for damage.

"Oh, honey," he said, brushing his hair out of his face. "You're gonna get these people killed."

He laughed, ignoring the rifle Maggie had aimed in his face.

"Well, you already got some people killed, didn't you," he chuckled.

Maggie sneered at him and whipped the gun around, slamming the butt of it into his head again so that he fell to the side. She then took a step back.

"Hey," one of the Saviors said softly. "Thank you."

Emma recognized him as the man who had spoken to Jesus earlier, outside the wall.

"Don't make me regret it. Or you will," Maggie said coldly before walking away.

Kal and Eduardo stepped out of the cage and Dianne closed it up, locking the Saviors and Gregory within.

Emma turned her back on the cage and suppressed a shiver. She told herself that at least they weren't being hanged. Yet, she thought morbidly.

It was warmer now, and Carl had stuffed his jacket into his backpack while Anna tied hers around her satchel. Siddiq continued to walk sluggishly beside them.

"Hey, Siddiq, what did you do before?" Anna asked.

"I—"

Growling cut him off and the three turned to face the sound. They ducked, weapons ready as they approached cautiously and hid behind a fallen tree. They spotted three walkers tearing apart a buck.

"Well, that would have been nice to have gotten to first," Anna huffed.

"Okay," Carl said to Siddiq, "For your mom," and he stepped over the tree.

Siddiq looked confused at Anna before the two quickly followed the teen. Carl and Anna dropped their packs and Anna pulled her stick. She picked out the biggest walker, deciding it would be better to leave the smaller ones to the youngest and the weakest of them.

The walkers quickly took notice of their approach and stood from their meal in favor of the fresher meat. Siddiq managed to take out the first walker by stabbing it upward through the chin, while Carl shoved his own walker to the side and stabbed it through the back of the head.

"Just go," Siddiq pleaded. "You don't have to do this."

Anna waited for her walker to come closer before she whipped her stick around, knocking it against the side of the head. It fell to the ground and she rammed the end of her stick into its decaying skull.

More growls came from her left and she looked up to see five more walkers stumbling through the woods, attracted by the struggle. Siddiq grabbed one, holding it back as it snapped at his face. Anna focused on the other three, one of which had a sharpened branch through its torso.

She knocked one to the ground before taking hold of the branch in the other and yanking it to the side, forcing the walker off balance.

She heard grunting behind her and realized she'd lost track of the third and fourth walkers, but the first was already getting to its feet. Anna dropped the branch and used both hands on her stick to take down the first walker and the walker with the branch.

Anna jumped at the two gunshots that echoed through the woods and whirled around to see Carl laying against the dead buck, two walkers motionless around him and his gun in hand. Siddiq was on the ground and was panting over two others.

"Is everyone all right?" Anna asked as Carl slowly got to his feet, his entire back soaked in blood.

Siddiq stood unsteadily.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah," Carl breathed.

"You could've left," Siddiq said.

Carl looked around at the scattered corpses, seeming to be in his own world.

"Carl?" Anna called.

Carl shook his head and turned to Siddiq.

"I'm responsible for you now," he declared. "That's how it works."

"I don't want to make any trouble," Siddiq insisted. "Your dad didn't want anything to do with me."

"He didn't, but…," he paused, "sometimes kids have to find their own way to show their parents the way," Carl explained before starting for the bags.

Siddiq looked to Anna.

"He's made up his mind," Anna shrugged, before following after Carl. "Might as well go with it."

Emma leaned against the wall, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes. Just a little bit longer and she could go upstairs and pass out in her bed. She could hear the low murmur of Aaron's voice, muffled through the wood so that she couldn't make out the words. The soft sound could have lured her into sleep.

The front door opened and Jesus stepped inside, shutting the door behind him as he looked at her.

"Everything all right?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, Gregory is… doing what he does," Jesus sighed, walking to the office doors and pushing one open.

Emma followed him into the office to see Aaron and Enid sitting in front of Maggie at the desk while Maggie held Gracie, the newest addition to the colony.

"How is he?" Maggie asked.

"Gregory's fine," Jesus assured, shutting the door. "He's trying to suck up to the Saviors now. I just wanted to say, I think you did the right thing. And I wanted to thank you."

"Don't," Maggie said.

Gracie began to cry and Maggie hushed her, getting up from the ornate chair to walk to the window.

"The Saviors in that pen might be bargaining chips," Maggie explained when Gracie quieted. "Maybe we'll have to trade them for some of our own people. They're alive 'cause we might need them."

Emma's heart sank.

"Jesus, if we don't…," Maggie continued, turning toward them, "we can't let them live."

Aaron pushed himself up and quietly left, Enid following after him.

"You two were up all night, you should get some sleep," Maggie said, looking out the window, indicating that she had no intention to continue the conversation.

Emma pressed her lips together and left the room, Jesus behind her. Out in the foyer, she turned to him.

"Not exactly what I was hoping for," Jesus said, brushing some hair out of his face.

"Took the words out of my mouth," Emma said.

"I'll talk to her again," he assured. "Maybe I can change her mind."

Emma looked at him doubtfully.

"I'm not so sure you can," Emma admitted. "But you can try. We both will. And I hope for the Saviors' sake that they try, too."

Jesus nodded his agreement before smiling down at her.

"You look exhausted. Go get some sleep," he ordered gently, patting her on the arm.

Emma gave him a tired smile before heading up the stairs and to her room. She made quick work of cleaning up and changing and then she fell into bed, asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

Daryl peered through the scope, watching the walkers writhing together around the Sanctuary.

"Our people are going to be at the Sanctuary soon, asking for their surrender," Rosita said from where she leaned against the truck. "We're almost there."

"That's why we do it," Daryl said, lowering the scope and turning to the others. "We make it happen."

"So, we cover you with crossfire from the upper windows, you crash the truck into the walkers and through to the building," Michonne clarified.

"Yep," Tara said. "Crack it open, Savior buffet."

"You know the workers will make it away, up the stairs?" Rosita asked.

"They're on the other side of the building. They should make it," Daryl assured.

"You sure?" Rosita asked, unconvinced.

"After we do this, their only choice is to give up," Daryl insisted.

"It's risky," Michonne said, hands on her hips. "They could see the truck comin'."

"There weren't any more weapons at the Saviors' warehouse, right?" Tara asked. "No more rockets for the RPGs. We work with what we got."

"You got me," came Morgan's voice as he approached the group. "Other snipers, too. Saviors see you comin', we got you covered, whatever it takes. I want it done. I want them done."

"Good," Daryl said, nodding to the man. "So, we doin' this or what?"

"Why don't we just wait it out like we planned? This is your girlfriend's plan," Rosita said looking to Daryl. "Michonne's right. What you're talking about is risky. Things could go bad."

"The truck with the speakers almost took all those walkers away," Tara pointed out. "It almost did go bad. Something else could."

"Even if it don't, we don't got the Kingdom fighters no more. If the Saviors want to put up a fight, we don't got the numbers to make 'em surrender," Daryl huffed.

"That's why Rick's talking to the Scavengers," Rosita challenged.

"You got shot. They lied to us," Tara snapped. "You—you believe them now?"

"I believe in Rick Grimes, and Anna's plan is the smartest play—even if you don't think so," Rosita sneered, looking between them.

Daryl clicked his teeth.

"I could've done something," Tara started, walking toward Rosita, "sooner, to end this. I knew about those weapons at Oceanside, and I waited. I didn't do shit about it. With or without you, I'm not letting that happen again."

"Then it's without me," Rosita said simply. "I'm out," she said, pushing off the truck and walking away.

"We got some cars parked near the east-side lookout," Morgan informed. "You can take one and go home."

Rosita nodded and turned back to Michonne.

"You staying?" She asked. "You good with all this?"

"I helped get this started," Michonne said. "Got to see it through."

"You think it's easier to come out here and risk than to stay back there and wait," Rosita began. "And I get it—I used to believe that, too. Thing is, sometimes, you just have to wait. Sometimes you don't get to know. I just wish it didn't take seeing Sasha walk out of that coffin to realize it."

Rosita started off to the east-side lookout. Daryl shook his head.

"Come on," he called. "Let's go."