Rachel was angry – hurt, angry, and a little scared. Things were beginning to unravel all around them. Rick was talking with Tyreese and his people when he finally snapped. He started to shout, first at no one and then at Tyreese, ordering them to get out of the prison. He was just deranged enough to scare them off. It was a shame too, Rachel thought, because they were willing to defend the prison against outsiders.

There was a lot of conversation about whether to make a move on Woodbury, defend the prison, or take their chances on the road again. A few, like Glenn, thought sneaking back into Woodbury to kill The Governor was their best bet. None of them were skilled enough or healthy enough to carry it out. Leaving the prison was not much of an option; they had a baby to care for, a one legged old man, and people unfit for travel. The only viable option left was to make a stand at the prison. They could fortify and defend their home. They had some weapons, but certainly not enough to see them through any sort of battle.

A single shot fired; it sounded close. Rachel's eyes popped open and her heart pounded in her chest. It might not be anything to worry about, maybe a walker got too close. But would someone really risk the noise for a single walker? The pause was just long enough to fool her into thinking that was all it had been, but soon her ears were riddled with the sound of gunfire. She scrambled from the bunk and out of the cell. Maggie emerged from her cell seconds after she did.

"Get the guns," Maggie ordered, blowing by her. Rachel followed her to where they kept the semi-automatic weapons that had been found in the prison armory.

Grabbing a couple of the bigger guns and some extra ammunition, the two women ran for the exit. It was chaos in the prison yard. Maggie ran toward Beth and Carl who were pressed up against the backside of the guard tower. Carol was on the ground, cowering behind what looked like Axel. Bullets ricocheted everywhere.

Rachel didn't see Hershel or Sarah anywhere in the yard, so she ran toward the cars, hoping to spot them. She ducked behind the car just as another wave of bullets cascaded in their direction. Peering around the bumper, Rachel could see the vehicle that was parked outside the gate where some of the shots originated. Another round rang out, this time dangerously close to her location. Taking another peek, she aimed and returned the favor.

Not turning back quick enough, something hot burned her arm. Crying out, Rachel pressed her back against the car and inspected the damaged flesh. Her forearm glistened red. She was trying hard to ignore the pain when the gunfire ceased and another sound filled the sudden void. It was loud and moving fast in their direction.

Rachel moved to get a better look, but nothing could have prepared her for what came next. A bread truck hurtled down the road and straight through the outer gates, leaving a wide gap in the fence. The truck stopped in the middle of the yard. The hatch opened in the back and walkers began to stumble out. There wasn't much else to do but stare in horror and disgust until more shots were fired from both sides. Rachel gritted her teeth and shot back, fighting against the pain that rippled up her arm while squeezing the trigger.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hershel stand up across the yard. Repositioning, she took aim at the walkers in the yard, putting down as many as she could without hitting the old man or Michonne, who was knocking off walkers as fast as she could twirl that sword of hers.

The war came to end when the intruders' vehicles suddenly pulled away. Glenn drove into the yard and scooped up Hershel and Michonne from the walker infestation. He brought them back through the only secure gate they had remaining. Rachel shouldered her gun and stood, putting pressure on her throbbing arm. Breathing heavily from the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she paused to catch her breath and scanned the area to ensure their safety. The others gathered around the truck, checking one another for injury. Rachel was just about to join them when she heard a cry of agony. Turning toward the sound, she noticed what she hadn't before – Sarah.

The teenager was lying on the ground behind one of the cars, the top of her head just visible behind the back the tire. Rachel sprinted over and fell to her knees beside the girl. Blood was pooled where Sarah had been hit, on her stomach and shoulder. Wide, tearful eyes, filled with pain and fear look up at Rachel. Ripping off her own t-shirt, Rachel applied pressure on the stomach wound and screamed for Hershel. Sarah cried out again, writhing with discomfort.

"You're gonna be okay," Rachel told her as blood began to bubble from Sarah's mouth. "Shit..."

Instantly Rachel knew that she had just lied to the girl. They were not equipped with the medical supplies needed to save her life. Tears filled her own eyes as she realized the inevitable and she cursed again, looking up to make sure Hershel was on his way. When he neared, Hershel lowered himself to the ground to have a proper look at Sarah. His expression was grim as his eyes scanned her body.

"What do you need?" Beth offered. "I'll go get it."

"It won't do any good," Hershel replied, shaking his head slowly. "I can't treat this kind of wound. I'm sorry."

Rachel nodded, wiping at the tears that dripped down her cheeks and smearing blood on her face. Hearing the words from Hershel struck harder than thinking them herself. She locked eyes with her young companion; the look that met her was unbearable. Rachel suppressed the urge to vomit and took the girl's hand. Even through all her pain and obvious terror, Sarah managed a small smile at the comforting gesture, but then started coughing. Blood oozed from her mouth and she groaned.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Rachel spluttered. No other words came to her as she looked down at her young friend, wishing that there was more she could do for the girl. "God, I am so sorry."

A gun cocked near her ear. Carl stood next to her, ready to take the shot. He looked down at Rachel, waiting to see if he was needed. Her heart pounded against her chest because she knew the decision that had to be made. She looked Sarah in the eye one last time, apologized for this necessary evil, and then gave Carl the go-ahead. The shot rang out and Rachel felt Sarah's hand go limp. Rachel sat back and buried her face in her hands, her whole body shaking with grief.

When the others tried to console her, she pushed them away. Hershel directed the others to leave, but stayed to have a look at her injury. She insisted that it was fine even though it throbbed something awful. Hershel agreed that it wasn't life threatening. The bullet had torn through the muscle just below her elbow. She would need a few stitches to ensure that it healed properly. The stitches could wait. Rachel asked him to leave her; she wanted to sit with Sarah for a while.

After Hershel left, Rachel pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, burying her face in her blood stained arms. Two deaths in three days; after surviving together for a year, Sarah and Jesse were gone in the blink of an eye – casualties of this new way of life. Walkers weren't the only threat anymore. Sarah's death was unnecessary; this entire mess between the prison and Woodbury was unnecessary. Life was a precious thing in such a world, easily taken by the mostly unlikely creatures. Why did the living have to turn against one another? Rachel was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it. How could anyone expect to survive like this?

Suddenly there was shouting and a few gunshots rang out. Rachel's blood turned icy as she feared those people had returned to finish the job. Sniffing and wiping her damp face against her good arm, she reached for her gun. Slowly standing, she peered over the car's trunk and scanned the fence line. Three people moved along the outer fence, taking down walkers in their path. Raising her gun, Rachel looked through the scope and sighed with some relief. It was Rick. He was accompanied by Daryl and Merle. There were more rounds being shot off and walkers up ahead of them fell.

Conflicting emotions swelled inside her as she moved toward the fence to watch their progress. The relief was short lived as she wrestled with each emotion that had pulled at her during Daryl's absence. Resentment eventually rose above the others. Rachel tried desperately to keep these feelings at bay, to understand that despite all his shortcomings, Merle was Daryl's brother, but her heart still felt broken, abandoned. She did not look away as the three men entered the prison yard. Walkers closed in on them, sensing the presence of fresh meat. Gunfire filled the air and walkers fell, creating an opening for the men to run. The gate slid open to let them inside and was then quickly pulled shut.

While Rachel observed the warm welcomes exchanged with Daryl, Rick, and the others, a walker crept up to the fence where she stood and growl in her ear. Wielding her knife without missing a beat, Rachel stuck the blade between the chain link and straight through the bridge of its nose. The walker crumpled to the ground when she wrenched the knife from its skull. Stepping backward a few paces, she gripped the handle tightly at her side and waited for other walkers to come close enough to stab. She winced as her other arm throbbed with pain. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement on her side of the fence.

Daryl ran around the car and slowed down at the sight that met him. He cast a long somber look at Sarah's body, lying in a pool of blood and brain matter, before turning that steely gaze on his wife, who stood with the knife in hand and smattered with blood. Her eyes fixed him with a doleful intensity that he knew had little to do with the dead girl. He took a few steps closer and slowly reached for her weapon. He eased the knife from her grip and tossed it on the ground, noticing the seeping gash on her forearm. A fury flared up inside him.

Daryl took a hold of her arm to get a better look at the wound. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she grumbled and pulled out of his grip.

"It don't look fine."

Rachel's eyes shifted to where Sarah laid. Her voice cracked as the words tumbled out. "I'll live."

Daryl's expression turned dark as his eyes followed hers. "I'm sorry, Rachel. This shouldn't have happened."

Closing her eyes, more tears rolled down her cheeks. Daryl slid his arms around her shoulders and embraced her tightly. Rachel wanted to resist, but instead leaned into him with her face buried in his shirt. She was still angry with him, but not so much that she would push away his comfort.

"You shouldn't have left," she said quietly after letting him hold her for a moment.

"What was I supposed to do?" Daryl asked, shaking his head. "I couldn't just leave him. He's my brother, Rachel."

"And I'm your wife," Rachel shouted, pulling away from him. His expression fell slightly. Frustrations that had built up over the course of their relationship revealed themselves, fueled by her anger over the last twenty-four hours. "I think you forget that when your brother is around. He shows up and you do whatever he asks."

Daryl's expression hardened. He geared up to protest, but she continued,

"It's always been this way, but I learned to accept it because I love you. You always came back to me in the end – usually because Merle pissed you off or left again, but you'd come back. That was all I needed back then. It can't be like that now."

"Rick didn't want Merle here – probably still don't," he replied with a scowl. "I was gonna come for you after I dealt with Merle. I thought you'd understand."

"I do understand, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. What if you'd died out there, Daryl? I do not want to be left to wonder if you're dead or not." Rachel shook her head, exasperated. "I can't do it again. I won't."

"You won't have to," Daryl explained, "because we're all together now."

Rachel smiled sadly because she knew that with his particular skill set and his role in the group, it would only be a matter of time before something took him away again.