"Sarah! Jesse!" Rachel screamed, whirling around as the two men finally granted them entrance into prison. Willing her legs to function, she moved shakily around the car to help her companions. There would be time to think about Daryl later. A level head was needed if they were all going to make it through the gate alive. She yelled again for them to retreat.

Sarah complied almost immediately and was at Rachel's side, breathing heavily from the exertion. Jesse hung back, shouting for them to get inside. This distraction cost him and a dead one grabbed hold of his arm and bit down. Jesse cried out in anguish. Sarah shrieked and lunged forward, but Rachel caught her around the waist. A few gun shots rang out and bodies fell. It took every bit of strength she could muster to pull the hysterical teenager through the narrow opening in the fence.

Now on the side of safety, Sarah threw herself against the fence and watched as Jesse was swarmed. She screamed for him, beating her fists into the chain link. Rachel turned away, suppressing the intense urge to vomit, unable to watch their friend be torn to pieces. It was gut wrenching enough to have to hear his screams slowly fade into silence. The sound of the dead feasting turned her stomach on a normal day, but this was unbearable. Still, she knew she had to keep her wits about her. Letting Sarah's emotion run their course, Rachel turned and looked at the two men that stood only a few feet away watching their grief.

"Throw your weapons over here," the young man with the gun said at eye contact. He motioned to the ground near him.

Rachel stared at him for a moment with a defiant look in her eye, but then she remembered why the men had helped them. It terrified her to be unarmed, but it was a step closer to discovering if her husband was still alive. She surrendered the knife, praying that it wasn't a foolish decision. Sarah did not readily comply, still in shock over Jesse's death. Rachel pulled the girl's knife from its holder and threw it at the man's feet. She looked between the two men, waiting for the next instruction.

"That's it?" he asked, looking skeptical as his companion bent over to collect the knives.

"We've got guns in the car with a selection of knives and other blunt objects," Rachel admitting, motioning to the abandoned vehicle. "Everything we've got is in that car. It's like Jesse said, we're just looking for a safe place to stay."

"You said you know Daryl," the gunman reminded her, looking slightly confused.

Her throat suddenly felt dry. She swallowed hard and croaked, "I told you, I'm his wife."

"Daryl's never mentioned being married," he replied, studying them from behind the barrel of his gun. He had yet to put it down.

His response stung a little, but she quickly brushed it aside and shrugged. "Why are you helping us then? You could have left us all out there to die."

"We're careful, not cruel," he explained, and then frowned. "Look, I am sorry about your friend. He shouldn't have died like that."

Rachel nodded solemnly, picking up on the genuine sentiment in his voice, but not quite ready to forgive them. She then asked firmly, "Will I get to see my husband?"

After a private exchange between the two men, the gun was handed over to the inmate.

"Yes, if you're telling the truth." After a brief, private exchange between the two men, the gun was handed to the inmate. "Oscar will stay here with you. If you try anything stupid, he will shoot you."

It had been a little over a year since she last saw her husband. She would not jeopardize any possibility to be reunited with him, but the necessity for precaution was understandable. As she watched the young man sprint up the path toward the prison, the reality of what was about to occur walloped her to the core. Suddenly feeling very shaky, Rachel took hold of Sarah and guided her away from the scene beyond the fence. The girl crumpled into a heap on the ground. Rachel sat with Sarah as they waited – her mind racing.

She had imagined this moment countless times over the past year. Reality was, of course, not meeting her expectations. Rachel was surprised by the nervousness she felt as they waited. A year is a long time to be away from someone, especially in a time of great turmoil, not knowing where they are or who they are with, and having to wonder if they are dead or alive. There was also a constant fear of encountering a love one, already passed on but still roaming the earth. At the start of all this, when she and Daryl were first separated, Rachel felt certain that either Daryl was dead or that he thought she was dead. He never would have abandoned her so easily. But, as the months went by, doubt started to wear on her certainty. Her imagination went wild, creating hundreds of scenarios about what happened on the day their town was overrun – and about where Daryl might have ended up.

The anticipation was overwhelming. Rachel suppressed an urge to vomit the bundle of nerves that had settled in her stomach. She pulled Sarah closer, more for her own comfort than for the girl's. Sarah's tears had ebbed away, but Rachel could feel the rise and fall of each grief-laden breath the young girl took. Trying to keep herself calm, Rachel scanned the surrounding area. It was mostly fence and trees with some walkers in between. As she worked her mind to consider an escape plan, there was a commotion across the yard from the building.

A door slammed and the fence rattled. A lone figure was running toward them. He was about halfway to them when more people streamed through the prison door. Rachel's grip on Sarah tightened as her eyes followed the single runner down the path until he came to a stop just in front of them. She felt her breath catch in her throat as the light caught his face. It was him – her husband.

Daryl Dixon looked down at the pair with a wild disbelief, taking a tentative step forward. His voice cracked slightly when he spoke, "Rachel?"

Blinking back tears, Rachel nodded slowly. Words failed her.

"No…no, no…" Daryl growled, shaking his head. His chest heaved with all the emotion that suddenly overtook him. He kicked furiously at the ground. "You're supposed to be dead. He said you were dead – that bastard told me you were dead! Shit…"

Hardly hearing a word Daryl said, Rachel released Sarah and threw herself at him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as they clung to each other. Her shaking legs barely kept her upright. Daryl buried his face against her neck, wanting to keep the others from seeing him breakdown. He had been letting his guard down around these people at a snail's pace, but something like this was far beyond his ability to control. All this time his wife had been alive and somehow, against all odds, she had found him. He wanted to be happy, to feel truly joyful in moment, and he was, but at the same time, those feelings were clouded by guilt. How had she been mistaken for dead?

"Daryl?" a voice said, interrupting them after a while. It seemed the others' curiosity had peaked.

Daryl pulled away and quickly wiped his face with both hands. He took a deep breath and sniffed a few times, looking around at the onlookers. He was at a complete loss for words, never imaging that this was a possibility. He had held his wife's death close to his heart over the last year. It had been difficult to deal with, but tragedy and hardship were not unfamiliar to him. How would he even begin to explain this to them? He did not even have all the answers. Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl noticed that Carl had a firm grip on his pistol. He turned toward the boy.

"You gonna shoot my wife?"

Carl frowned and replied with some skepticism, "You're married?"

"Yeah," Daryl eyeballed him for a moment and then looked around at the others who looked equally surprised, "is that so hard to believe?"

The boy shrugged uncertainly, holstering his gun. "It's just...you never mentioned it before."

"Nobody ever asked. Besides," Daryl huffed, turning back to Rachel, "she ain't even supposed to be alive."

"Who's that?" Carl interjected, pointing at Sarah who was watching quietly from her spot on the ground. "Is she your daughter?"

"No," Rachel said, cutting in quickly. "She's not our daughter. That's Sarah and I'm Rachel. We've been traveling together since near the beginning of all this – us and Jesse…"

The rest of her explanation was lost in silence, remembering that Jesse was no longer with them. It was in that silence that Sarah spoke for the first time since leaving the car. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she climbed to her feet.

"It's your fault Jesse died!" she shouted, directing her anger at the two men she felt were responsible.

Rachel moved to put an arm around Sarah. She didn't completely disagree with her companion, but they did not want to start off on the wrong foot with these people. "He fell outside gate – just over there." She pointed to the cluster of walkers that had gathered just passed the car; heads turned to look. "We had to fight them off while we tried to negotiate with your guys here. It was Jesse's choice to stay behind when they finally agreed to let us in. I think he wanted to make sure that Sarah and I were safe."

There were solemn nods around the group as they turned back to the two newcomers.

"You can bury him tomorrow, if you want," the gunman offered, looking at Daryl for his agreement. Daryl's head dipped. "We lost some of our own earlier today. We can put him near the others."

Rachel nodded, noticing the sudden change in most of their expressions. It startled her a little, to hear that this group had suffered its own losses today. This happy reunion was a rare glimmer of hope in reality that they faced in each death experienced. Rachel appreciated the suggestion to bury Jesse; something like that had not even crossed her mind. "That would be nice. Thank you."

"How'd ya'll find us?" a young woman asked, getting to the question that was on most of their minds.

"Let's go back inside," Daryl cut in, making a motion to where Jesse had fallen. "Ain't no sense standing here listening to all that. We'll deal with it in the morning."