AN: So I've totally been going against everything I stand for considering I usually get annoyed when there's ANs at the beginning of a chapter, but I did want to say that this chapter, along with the next one, were one of my favorite chapters to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 14: All Along the Watchtower

~Clary~

I spot Daryl sitting on the tailgate of the truck parked by Barrington, cleaning his crossbow bolts. He looks up as I approach, offering me a small smile. I climb up into the bed of the truck behind him, wrapping myself around my brother. I bury my face in his shoulder, legs around his waist and arms snaked around his torso. "Christ, the bearded wonder wasn't kidding," Daryl says. "You are a koala."

"Darry," I say.

"Oh, is that something you only let him call you?" Daryl asks. "Shit, sorry, I—"

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you, too, Clars," Daryl responds. He looks at me over his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Just… missing everyone we lost, you know? I'd give anything right now to just… to just talk to Sam. He always knew what to say. And Sophia… she could bring a smile to anyone's face. It's like… she always knew when someone needed cheering up. And—"

"Hey, don't you start that again. Sophia wasn't on you."

"I wasn't even thinkin' 'bout that," I tell him.

"Shit, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, no, it's okay. Really." I shake my head, sighing. "I keep thinkin' about how Merle, when he finally tried to do something good, it killed him. I keep thinkin' about how Sebastian was at Alexandria for God knows how long, only for him to die barely two weeks before we got there. I keep thinkin' about how we get so damn close, only for the rug to get ripped right out from under us."

"You think we're gonna lose," Daryl guesses.

"No," I answer. "No, Daryl. I'm scared I'm gonna lose you. I'm scared I'm gonna lose Aaron or Paul, 'cause whenever it looks like we're winning, something else always happens. We always lose someone. I wouldn't be able to go on if that someone is you."

"Hey, we'll make it out. We're Dixons. It's what we do, remember? We survive. We've always been survivors."

I don't respond for a long time, just sitting there, enjoying the time I have with Daryl. I don't get a lot of this anymore—moments when nothing's happening and I can just sit and breathe with my big brother. After a while, I whisper, "I'm sorry."

"The hell you have to be sorry for?" Daryl questions.

"For how I keep pushing you away since… since the office outpost, and then with Carl."

"Hey, don't you dare apologize. You were working through things that no one should have to work through."

"I pushed you away and I knew it was hurting you."

"Clary, you know I would do anything for you. I would never hurt you. I don't give a shit if you hurt me, as long as it's what you need. I'll suffer for you in a heartbeat."

"Not even then should you be in any more pain," I say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "After all they've done to you, I can't let them hurt you again."

Daryl closes his eyes, leaning his head back against mine. "The Dixon Duo," Tara says as she approaches, but I don't look up, instead keeping my face in Daryl's shoulder. "Don't see you two like this much anymore."

"It used to be a trio," I mutter into Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl turns, kissing the top of my head, before turning back to Tara. Tara sighs softly before she says, "It's been over a day. Still not sick. Doc says I'm cool."

Daryl's hair tickles my forehead as he shakes his head, letting out a soft chuckle before he says, "You're a tough son of a bitch."

"Daryl, it just means that Dwight shot me with a clean arrow."

"Or it means that you got lucky. Could be anything. It's not like a bite. Sometimes nothing happens." I stiffen, my arms tightening around Daryl. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Tara starts, "Daryl…"

"Look, if Dwight knew," Daryl objects, "he could've warned us. He could've sent us a message."

"Well, maybe he couldn't."

"He let a whole day go by while our people lay around dyin'."

"Everybody else in the battle who got injured got sick. That can't be an accident."

"So he just gets a pass?" Daryl demands. "Is that it?"

"Maybe," Tara answers. "Look, you said that we might need him, and we might need him now more than ever. And what I'm saying is if I had killed him, maybe I would be dead right now. And Clary, you were right." I lift my head from Daryl's shoulder at my name. "You told me to leave Dwight alone, and I didn't listen. I should've listened. I'm sorry."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, Tara, you don't need to apologize for anything. I'm the one that needs to. What I said, I'm so sorry, Tara. I don't know what that was or where it came from. It's not who I am and it's not who I'm trying to be. Yeah, I will still vouch for Dwight, but I'm not gonna stop you—either of you—if you go after him."

"Do what you gotta do," Tara says, looking down at Daryl. "But know it's just for you. I'm out."

As Tara walks away, Daryl looks over at me. He questions, "You think she's right? You've always trusted Dwight."

"I don't know," I admit. "I don't know what's right anymore. I don't even know who I can trust aside from you, Aaron, and Jesus. I trust Maggie and Rosita. Maybe Dwight, I don't know." I bow my head. "I don't trust Rick anymore. I should've seen it before, but I didn't."

"This isn't the place to talk about this," Daryl whispers. "We don't know who's listening. Come with me."

I follow Daryl inside Barrington, into Maggie's office, where Rosita is giving Maggie and Dianne an update on the relay cars. Daryl looks down at me, whispering, "What about Dianne?"

I give a small nod. Dianne's been at Maggie's side since this started, and she's smart. I think I can trust her.

"Rose," I say. "How much time will we have?"

"Ten, maybe fifteen, minutes heads up if the Saviors come back," Rosita answers.

"And our ammo?" Maggie questions.

"'Bout what we thought," Dianne informs us. "Not enough to fend off another attack of that size."

"Well, maybe we don't gotta worry about that no more," Daryl says, pulling me further into Maggie's office. "At least for now. Maybe goin' hand-to-hand's our only option."

"You think they're low on ammo?" Rosita questions.

"Well, they must've gone through a whole bunch of it gettin' through them walkers at the Sanctuary."

"And there's not a lot of places left to find more," Dianne adds.

"Mierda," Rosita sighs, then glances at me. "Pueden hacer balas."

"Mierda," I echo.

Maggie questions, "What is it?"

"They have Eugene," I say.

"They have our bullet maker," Rosita continues, looking around at the others. "They can make bullets."

"You think the Saviors have what he'd need to make 'em?" Maggie questions.

"Shit," I say. "That day we lost Denise… he took Abe somewhere. Eugene wanted to make bullets before. He knows where they could find some."

"I know where it is," Rosita says. "Eugene had been talking about making some place into a factory."

"They could have that place up and running by now."

"So we go see for ourselves," Daryl decides. "I'll go. Rosita, Clary, come with?"

"Sure," Rosita says, and I nod in agreement.

"Be careful," Maggie requests. "Come back soon."

"Yes ma'am," Daryl says. The three of us exit, quickly gathering supplies and loading them into Daryl's truck. I turn as someone approaches from behind me, putting my crossbow down in the bed. "Rick," I say, slightly surprised that I'm seeing him. "What's going on?"

"I need your help," he says. "Outside the walls."

"Rick, I—"

"I'm going after the Saviors. The, er, the prisoners that escaped. I need you there."

"Rick, I-I-I-I—" I stutter, struggling to find the right words. I don't want to be out there if I don't have to, and not with Rick. I find myself weighing which is the greater threat: Saviors or Rick. A group, or one grieving man. It takes me a long moment to answer, but I finally say, "Okay. Let me grab a—" Rick presses a gun into my hands. "—gun… Okay, then."

"Clary, you sure?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah, it's okay," I lie. "I'll catch up."

"Come with me," Rick says. I steal one last glance at a worried Daryl as I follow Rick, looking from him to Alden in confusion as we approach the former Savior. He questions, "Where'd they go?"

Alden answers, "We already told Maggie every—"

"So tell me," Rick interrupts.

Alden's eyes dart to me, and I give him a small nod. He looks back to Rick, telling him, "Sanctuary's our best guess. It's pretty much our only guess. There'd been some talk about tryin' to get out, but it was just talk, nothin' specific. Thinkin' they had a plan's giving 'em too much credit. They saw an opening, and they took it."

"What if it was you?" Rick questions. "How would you get back there? You're on foot, there's probably someone injured. Maybe you need a place to hole up and figure things out."

"There's an old dive bar three miles off Edgehill Parkway. Some of 'em, uh, took me there once. I was going to college for architecture when this thing started. They wanted my expert opinion on what it'd take to turn the place into an outpost. It's between here and there, but the chances they'd actually g—"

Rick cuts Alden off by turning and walking away. As he turns, he grabs my arm, roughly pulling me with him. Alden drops the bucket he's holding upon seeing the fear cross my face, taking my other arm and stopping Rick from pulling me away. Alden's hand is gentler, not gripping my bicep nearly as tightly as Rick's. "Hey, let her go, man!"

Rick releases me, but he reaches for his gun as he orders, "Take your hands off her. Now."

"Rick, he's fine," I say, but Alden has already dropped his hand from my arm. I glance over my shoulder at him, mouthing my thanks.

"Clary, I don't know if this is any kind of a lead," he admits. "But if you're going out there… if it's not for nothing, can you do me a favor? If you happen to find 'em, don't kill any more of 'em than you have to."

"They deserve to die, Alden," I reply after a moment.

"You're probably right. The Saviors are bad people. The ones that ran last night made a choice. They made the wrong choice, and some of 'em, it probably hasn't hit 'em yet. You two could show 'em by bringing 'em back, that there's more than just that choice. They shouldn't have to die over one mistake."

"People die over mistakes all the time," I say.

"Killing them won't bring your friends back."

"No, it won't. I know that. I killed the Governor, and it didn't bring back Merle or Jesse. I killed Aiden, and it didn't bring back Sebastian or Alex. I kill walkers all the time, and it doesn't bring back Sam or Sophia or Carl. If I kill Negan and the Saviors, it won't bring back Glenn or Eric. I know that. But it'll be one less threat to the ones that are still here." I step closer to Alden, looking up at him. "They'll be one less threat to our people."

My heart skips a beat as Rick slaps his hand over my mouth, muffling my cry of surprise. He pulls me against him, back against a tree. My heart thuds in my chest so loudly I'm sure the walkers can hear it. Rick holds me in front of him, one hand over my mouth as if I haven't been stuck waiting for walkers to pass before. I pull myself out of Rick's grasp as I hear footsteps approaching us from the right—the herd of walkers are off to our left and that's a living person tramping through the woods on our right. I draw my gun, but before I get a chance to defend myself, there's the bloodstained, sharpened end of Morgan's staff at my throat. "Morgan, Morgan, it's me," I rush, my voice shaking with fear due to the imminent threat of death. "Morgan!"

I try to talk him down, but Morgan doesn't listen. It's like he doesn't even hear me. He lets out a feral growl, as if he's no longer human, and presses the stick closer to my throat. I swallow as I feel the tip of it jabbing my jugular. It's like when I first met him, I realize. He's gone off the deep end again. He's going to kill us.

I try to back away, then trip over a root and fall to the ground. Morgan follows me, pressing his stick into my throat. I let out a whimper as I feel just how sharp it is. "Morgan," Rick hisses, hands raised to show he means no harm. "Morgan, you know me. You know us."

I never really trusted Morgan, especially after Jesus told me how Morgan nearly killed him the same way he threatens me now. I know I'm not safe out here. If not for the walkers, if not for the Saviors, then I'm not safe out here with the two men around me. Rick doesn't care about anything anymore except revenge, and it doesn't matter to Morgan whether he kills me or not.

Morgan blinks, pulling his staff away from my throat and taking a step back. I turn on my side, pushing myself up onto my knees with one hand while the other goes to my throat. I crawl behind Rick, knowing Morgan, as crazy as he is, doesn't stand a chance against Rick. And if he does make it past Rick, he'll be slowed down enough for me to maybe stand a chance at getting away. This is the second time Morgan's tried—really, truly tried—to kill me, I realize. Oh, God, what if he succeeds the next time? What if no one's there to stop him? What if he kills me and Rick in the next few minutes and just leaves our bodies out here? No one would know what happened to us. And I told Daryl I'd catch up, that it'd be okay.

"Clary," Rick hisses, his voice snapping me out of my internal panic. However, some of it must've shown on the outside as he questions, "Hey, you with me?"

I manage a nod, my eyes never leaving Morgan.

"I'm not right," Morgan says. "I'm not right."

"Maybe you shouldn't be out here," Rick says, turning back to Morgan.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere."

"You're out here for them. Us, too."

I'm not.

"Then we finish it," Rick continues. "The three of us."

I can't.

"One of 'em told me about a place they might hole up," Rick says, leading the way through the forest.

"His name's Alden," I interrupt. "And he ain't one of them."

"Yeah, you say that about Dwight, too."

"Hey," I say, stepping in front of him and making him stop. "You got something you wanna say to me, Rick Grimes?"

"No," Rick says with a shake of his head. "Let's keep moving." Rick pushes around me, and Morgan follows behind him. "It's taking the road there, the herd."

"Yeah, I know."

"Get out of here!" a shout comes from off to our right. We turn to see a woman aiming a machine gun at us, her back pressed against her jeep.

Of course, I'm the one that ends up in front. So, I put my hands up, calling, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! Hey! We don't mean no trouble!"

"Turn around slow and just walk away."

I can see Morgan aim his gun at her out of my peripheral vision. Figures. "Hey, hey," Rick hisses to him. "She's not one of them."

"We're all one of them," Morgan replies, not lowering his weapon.

"Morgan, we need to go."

"We're going, miss!" I call, hands still raised. "Watch yourself, alright? There's a herd of the dead close by."

"We don't know who she is," Morgan growls.

"Just go!" the woman shouts.

"We don't know who she is!" Morgan pushes around me, knocking me to the ground, as he steps closer. "You are not here. You're not here! Not now! Not now! Not here!"

Rick grabs Morgan, pulling him with him as they turn to run. I scramble to my feet after him as the woman raises her gun and fires a warning shot into the air. "Save your bullets, lady!" I shout. "They're comin'!"

I follow Rick and Morgan as they hightail it away, slowing to a walk as we near the road. Rick leads the way out, staring down at the puddle of blood on the road. There's an amputated arm and foot just lying there, bite marks on both of them. "Well," I say, "the pretty boy was right. They definitely came this way."

Something strikes Rick, and he falls forward.

"Rick!" I exclaim. I turn when a branch snaps behind me, and I catch a glimpse of long hair and a flannel before I'm hit in the head.

I let out a soft groan as I come around, lifting my head. I try to move, but my hands are tied. "Well, well, well," a voice says a with a humorless laugh. The Savior with the long hair kneels in front of me. "The Orphan's awake. Have a nice nap, Sleeping Beauty?"

"It was wonderful, actually," I shoot back.

Whatever smartass reply he has is cut off by one of the Saviors coughing, another one saying, "We had to get off the road, out of the forest, and still… maybe we didn't do it in time."

"Yeah, maybe we did," another Savior returns. "Maybe they don't look so hot 'cause we hacked off part of them. We're not just gonna leave 'em here."

The Savior in front of me stands, walking over and pointing down at the two Saviors on the floor. "Look at them," he says. "They're dead already, Evan."

"He's right," a third Savior says. "They knew the rules. You pooch it, nobody carries you."

"After everything we've been through?" Evan questions. "Things are shaky, man. Let's not—"

"Look, we got the rules so somebody goin' down don't take the rest of us with 'em."

"Case in point, we could've been halfway home by now," the Savior with the long hair says.

"Say we make it, what then?" Evan questions.

"He's right, Jared," another Saviors agrees. "What do we got waiting for us back there?"

I look down as the realization hits; Jared has been right here all along. I glance over at Rick as he whispers, "How long have I been out?"

"Just long enough to get here," Morgan replies.

"Maybe we go our own way, be done with the Saviors," one of the Saviors from before proposes. "We pooched it. Simon wasn't gonna carry us."

"That's right," Jared says. "Because we lost. But things—" Jared walks over to us, gesturing down to me. "—have changed. Delivering Rick the Prick and the Orphan to Negan is a win. We wiped our own asses on this one, and the big man is gonna recognize."

"Hey," Evan says, looking towards Rick. "He's awake."

Jared chuckles, stepping towards Rick. "Rise and shine, curly. You ready to do some walking? Yeah, of course you are. Pack it up, boys! We're ditching the dead weight and moving on. This is a loose-end sort of thing, and that's it. It's gonna be better for you, better for us."

Jared turns, walking over and picking up a microphone stand from beside the old karaoke machine. He raises it to swing, but Rick objects, "Wait! My truck's not far. We can get 'em to Hilltop's doctor. They could come back with us. You all could. You didn't want this. You made a split-second choice, and you chose wrong. But it's not too late. You cut us loose, you cooperate… we'll give you a fresh start. A chance to become part of our community, to become one of us. I'm giving you my word. There's not a lot that's worth much these days, but a man's word has still gotta mean something."

The Saviors all look around at each other, and Jared breaks the silence as he drops the microphone stand onto the ground, drawing attention to himself at the thud. "You asshats aren't dumb enough to believe that, are you?" he questions.

"We can hear him out," Evan says. "We could talk it over."

"We don't got time for that," I say. "There's a herd close by that's closin' in with every second that passes. Y'all need to make a choice, right—"

"Wake up, everybody!" Jared shouts. "There isn't any herd! There isn't any deal waiting back at Hilltop. You think these fuckers came here to save us? They came here for blood." Jared points to Morgan. "Hell, this one strangled one of his own guys to death with his own hands."

"You killed the kid," I snap, then shake my head. "Look, that shit happened and is in the past. If there's one thing I believe it, it's second chances. I've been given many. I will give you one. All you have to do us denounce your loyalty to Negan and follow us. We get back to Hilltop, and you all will be under my protection. No harm will come to you. I swear it."

"Some of you actually believe her," Jared says, looking around. "All they're preaching is a steaming pile of bullshit."

"You know, you're right," Morgan says. "I came here to do what I was supposed to do. To kill every last one of you."

Jared scoffs, taking a stolen machine gun off his back as he makes his way over to us. I flinch back as he raises it, but it's not me he's aiming it at. He points it directly at Morgan's face, who doesn't even flinch. Instead, he smiles.

"You should save your bullets, Jared. You're gonna need 'em. That herd, it is coming. Maybe they'll hear the coughs or the moans, you know? Maybe they'll just stumble in through open walls, but they are coming. And then after, when you're just torn skin and loose teeth and blood… when you're nothin' but the stuff that they didn't eat… well, that'll be a damn shame. Because there won't be a single one of you left for me to kill."

"We're done," Jared says, standing. "Let's dump 'em and bounce. I want a sandwich. You know what? We'll bring the Orphan, I think. Negan's always liked her. I think he'll reward us for bringing her. Maybe get a wife for a night." Jared's eyes flick over me. "Or the Orphan."

"Oh, fuck you, you creep," I snap.

"You might." Jared chuckles to himself. "It's a damn shame, though, Juliet, that Alden won't get you."

I glance over at the captive beside me. "Morgan, can you kill this asshole already?"

"It doesn't change," Morgan says. "It never changes." Morgan raises his voice, and I'm sure the walkers outside can hear him. "And I don't die! I don't! Nobody dies! 'Cause everybody turns!"

Jared turns, aiming his gun at Morgan, but Evan moves to block him. "What're you doing?" Evan demands. "You'll ruin our chances of gettin' back to Hilltop."

Jared backs off, the dive bar falling silent. It's so silent that I can hear the walkers growling outside as they approach.

"Walkers!" one of the Saviors warns as they start coming in through the open walls, just as Morgan said. "We're surrounded."

"Thing is, we've already killed you," Rick says.

"Morgan, what the hell have you done?!" I exclaim. "We're dead, too!"

Some of the Saviors back up, opening fire on the walkers that have crowded around the two on the floor, beginning to devour them. "You're too weak to take on the herd alone," Rick says. "Cut us loose. Give us our weapons. We can help you!"

"No!" Jared shouts. "Nobody's cutting anybody loose! I'm killing these pricks right now!"

Jared spins to aim at us, but a Savior hits him with the microphone stand, saving our lives. Jared falls, the gun sliding across the floor to where Evan picks it up. The Savior that spared us is surrounded by walkers, and they take him down. "If you're gonna cut us loose, do it now!" I bark, helpless as walkers near.

I see Rick scramble to his feet out of the corner of my eye, free. He turns and gets out of the path of the walkers, and Morgan follows him a moment later. I can feel someone tugging at the ropes binding me to the leg of the table, but they're not working fast enough. A walker reaches towards me, and I kick at it, trying to knock it back.

The hands working on untying me disappear, and I find myself wondering if they've abandoned me here. Instead, the Savior comes to my rescue, shoving the walker away and shooting it. He finishes cutting me loose, pulling me to my feet and passing my gun back to me. In that time, the walkers catch up to us. They grab him, tearing into him as they pull him down. I run, jumping up onto a pool table in an attempt to get above the walkers as I fire down at them. I stand in the middle, just out of their reach as they surround me, drawn by the sound of my gun firing.

My gun clicks, empty of bullets. I holster it, grabbing a pool cue. I spin it in my hands, swinging it and pushing aside enough walkers for me to jump over the bodies of the ones I killed. I roll as I land, coming up on one knee and driving the cue into the head of a walker above me. I pull it out as I stand. I get through three walkers before it snaps in half in the head of the third. I drive the rest of the stick into the head of the next walker, dropping back behind the others. I draw my knife, starting to get real scared now. I'm surrounded by a herd of walkers, Saviors, and people I don't know if I can trust—with no ammo, at that.

Rick looks down at his gun after taking down a walker, then to one of the Saviors. "We're almost out," Rick tells him. "Go on ahead. We'll be right behind."

The Savior nods, taking Rick's place on the front line. I watch Rick grab his hatchet, thinking nothing of it. We're surrounded by walkers and he's almost out of ammo, right? Wrong. So very wrong, I think as I can only watch as Rick turns on the Saviors he just promised sanctuary and safety to.

Morgan, however, must have known this was coming. It's the only explanation I can think of when he immediately turns and stabs another Savior with his staff. Unless he was planning it on his own. Would he have killed Rick? Is he going to kill me? One Savior, who's out of ammo as well, turns to me. He charges at me, and I duck, swiping my knife up in the hope to defend myself.

I don't want to kill these people. People are a resource. And Alden, well, I think Alden may have been right. They don't deserve to die. They made a mistake. I've made mistakes, and people have given me second chances. They've given me third and fourth chances, too. These Saviors deserve a second chance, except for Jared. He's the only one that needs to die.

I don't want to kill the Savior. I just need to get him away from me long enough for me to take cover. I don't want to be part of this. I can't be part of this. After that night at the Hilltop, when I stood above everyone and killed without hesitation, when I played God, when I stopped counting. I can't be part of this anymore. If I am, Aaron won't have anything to come back to. Killing any more people will kill me.

I duck under the Savior's arms, slicing upwards. I hear him cry out, finding a long cut over his entire torso. He drops to the ground as it begins bleeding, but he isn't bleeding fast enough that he will bleed out. The walkers aren't near him, either. Rick's taking care of them as he slaughters the rest of the Saviors. After we kill the walkers, maybe I can save him, I wish.

Instead of fighting, I vault over the bar, dropping to the ground behind it. I hide underneath the bar, covering my head when a stray bullet causes the mirror to shatter and rain glass on me. I cover my ears and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to drown out the sound of the massacre and block the memories. Another shootout in a bar, one so long ago.

Rick killed Dave. I killed Tony. It wasn't the first that I had killed—the girl in Room 9 was bitten and I ended it for her—but it was the first that I killed for someone else, for defense.

This shootout isn't that. This isn't any self-defense. This isn't saving family or our group. This is Rick, losing his shit because the last thing he had from before the world ended is gone. This is Rick, going to a place that's too far to come back from. This is Rick, the real Rick, the Rick that's been hiding for the sake of his son.

I slap a hand over my mouth before I can let out a sob, giving away my location. I'm terrified; I never should have agreed to come out here. Aaron doesn't want me out here—he can't stand to lose what little he has left. I didn't want to come out here—I can't, not after all that I've lost because of what's outside the gates and the walls. Daryl didn't want me to come—that much was clear, even if he didn't say it. He doesn't trust Rick with my safety anymore.

Please, make it stop, I silently beg as I hear screaming from another part of the bar. Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop!

Then, all at once, it goes quiet, like the brief moment of serenity in the eye of a hurricane. There's no sound, and I hold my breath, not knowing who made it to the end of the shootout, if anyone. I jump at a gunshot, sounding like it was just on the other side of the bar. I hear footsteps, and I push myself further under the bar as the footsteps near.

"Clary?" I hear Rick question from above me. "Clary, are you back here? Are you hurt?"

I don't answer, shaking too much to speak. Rick climbs over the bar, glass crunching underneath his boots. He crouches in front of me, pulling my hands away from my ears. I jerk my hands from his grasp, rushing, "Don't hurt me."

Rick pulls his hands back, holding them up. "Hey, it's alright," he says. "It's alright, Clary. It's me. It's Rick. I'm not going to hurt you." He offers me a hand. "C'mon. We need to go."

I don't take it, instead using the bar to pull myself up with trembling arms. We climb over, and I hear a groan on the floor below. "I thought I got them all," Rick mutters to himself.

He steps towards the Savior, and I find that it's the same one that I injured during the fight. I open my mouth to protest his murder, to stop Rick with the hope of helping him. Rick doesn't give me the chance, instead plunging his knife into the Savior's head. I look away, watching Morgan approach. He doesn't look at me as he walks past, then pauses. He turns just enough to look back at me, then tells me, "Jared's dead."

I don't reply, the only thought on my mind that of Henry. Who's going to tell him that the man that murdered his brother is finally dead? Then, I remember what I found out earlier this morning: Henry's missing. He disappeared the night before, most likely having gone after the Saviors. God, when will this end? When will it all be over?

We need to end this, end the bloodshed. It needs to happen soon, too. It needs to happen before we lose everyone. There has to be a way to end it, a way out of this war. There must be some kind of way out of here. Some way, any way, before everyone's dead. Before more kids die, before more widows and orphans are made.

Alden's eyes bore into me as I follow Rick and Morgan inside the gate, disappointed that we're the only ones returning. Morgan ventures off to tell Henry—who has, thankfully, returned unharmed in the time we were gone— about Jared. Rick continues up to Barrington, where Michonne waits for him. With Aaron missing, Jesus on the relay team, and Daryl on the stakeout with Rosita, no one waits for me to return.

No, she was waiting, I realize as I'm suddenly crushed in a hug by Carol. She cradles my head against her shoulder with one hand, the other wrapped tightly around me and not letting me go anywhere. I don't complain. Her armor digs into my skin, but I ignore it, instead clinging to her. "I can't do it anymore," I whimper against her, choking on tears. "I can't do it, Carol. I know why you left. I get it now."

"It's alright," Carol croons, gently stroking my hair. "It's alright. You don't have to do any more fighting. It's almost over. We can finish it."

"Rick's a monster," I whisper. I break away from her embrace, looking in her eyes to ensure she hears me. "He killed them all. Morgan did, too. Carol, they're too far gone. They're not human anymore."

"Hey, hey, hey, breathe," Carol says. "Breathe, Clary. Take a breath, and tell me what happened."

I take a breath, just as she says. "The Saviors, the ones that escaped the pen last night. Rick dragged me after 'em to hunt 'em down, only I didn't know we were hunting them. We found them, and I couldn't do it. So I hid as Rick and Morgan slaughtered them."

I close my eyes, bowing my head as I press my forehead into her shoulder. "Your brother does this same exact thing," Carol tells me.

"I told him I'd be okay going with Rick. I wasn't." I lift my head, glancing over her shoulder at Alden. "And he was right."

I give Carol one last hug before leaving her. She returns to Ezekiel and Henry, while I make my way over to where Alden sits by a fire with Dianne, sitting in the empty space beside him. I glance towards Alden, choosing not to bring up what Jared said about the two of us. I put my empty gun on the ground between us, staring into the fire. Alden looks at the gun, then at me. Dianne starts, "Clary—"

"It's empty," I say. "I got surrounded by walkers."

Alden asks, "Is that why… why it's just you three?"

For a long time, I don't answer, instead staring into the flames. Finally, I whisper, "We killed them. I… you were right. They didn't have to die, only Jared did. I promised them no harm would come to them if they untied us and came with us back to the Hilltop. Rick gave them his word, an offer of safety. I meant it, but he lied. His word used to mean something. It doesn't, not anymore. He promised them sanctuary, and then he killed them all."

"How many did you kill?" Alden asks after a moment.

"Two," I answer. "One cut me loose, gave me my gun, and then the walkers got him before I could take out the walkers. Rick turned on 'em, and one came at me. I tried not to. I just tried to injure him so he wouldn't kill me, so I could bring him back and Siddiq could fix him up. Rick killed him after."

"You didn't kill those two," Dianne assures me.

"I did," I argue. "Not directly, no. But those are two more people that are dead because of my actions or lack thereof." A minute passes, and I look up when I realize Alden's watching me. I ask, "What?"

"The way Negan talked about you," Alden starts, then pauses, shaking his head. "That's not who you are. You may have been that person once, but not anymore."

"I lost everything because of the Saviors. I used to be the person Negan thought I was or I'd become. Not anymore." A realization suddenly hits me. "But Negan doesn't know that. Alden, you're a genius!" I grab his face, squishing his cheeks and looking into his eyes. "You goddamn genius, you! Thank you! I gotta go!"

I release Alden, getting to my feet. I leave my gun on the ground, as it's empty and an empty gun would just make things worse where I'm going. Alden questions, "Wait, where are you going?"

I pause, looking down at him. "I got something I gotta do on my own."

I exit the woods, looking over my shoulder to make sure the walkers that I heard aren't nearby. I keep my knife gripped tightly in my hand, the only weapon I brought with me when I left the Hilltop. I walk right up to the gate, and the guard immediately pulls a gun on me. I raise my hands in surrender, rushing, "Whoa, hey, I come in peace."

The guard demands, "Why the hell are you here?"

"I know he's here," I say. "Here, this knife is all that I have." I pass the guard my knife through the gate. "Please, I just need to talk to him. It's important. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think that I could end this war." I glance over my shoulder as I hear snarling, then back to the guard, eyes widening. "Please. I just gave you all I have. Don't leave me out here."

The guard hesitates for a moment, then pulls open the gate. I step inside, past the snapping walkers chained to the fences. I step inside, the guard closing and locking the gate behind me. I step inside, voluntarily locking myself, completely unarmed, within the confines of the Sanctuary.