It's dawn when we reach the road the car's parked on. We've been trekking through the woods for a while when it comes into view, my old friend Silver, and Glenn's there, Glenn and someone Dad called Michonne. She's the one who went to the prison and told my group where Merle had probably taken us. I didn't pick up much else, except that she doesn't like Merle and Merle seems to think it's funny. I'm tired. I haven't really slept in twenty-four hours, and it hasn't been the easiest twenty-four hours of my life, either. But now we're nearing Silver and soon we'll be back to the prison. To Carl. Food. My cell. My bed.

Rick calls out to Glenn when we're close enough, very quietly, almost like a cough. Through all the trees, I can see Glenn sitting on the road, see his head jerk up, see him jump to his feet and jog our way. I can tell that he doesn't look good, that it hurts him to move, and Merle's right here, and then, that must be Michonne, and you know, I think this little reunion might go kind of badly. I guess Rick does, too, because as Glenn and us come together, with Glenn saying thank God, Rick raises his hand and says, "Now, we've got problem here, I need you to back up –"

He's interrupted by a metallic hissing sound. Michonne's drawn a sword, a real, actual sword, from her back, and now Glenn's gun's up, his broken face is twisted, and he's shouting, "What the hell is he doing here?"

Then there's a short period of mixed together yells and I see a nice-looking tree off to the right. I go to that tree, and I sit at its base, pulling my knees to my chest and watching Rick stand between Michonne and Merle and Dad stand between Glenn and Merle and Maggie point her gun at Michonne while tossing wild, scared looks over at her boyfriend.

"He tried to kill me!" Michonne shrieks once. She's a muscled black woman with dreadlocks and, at the moment, animal eyes that focus over Rick's shoulder and on my uncle. Rick has his revolver pointed at her head, and she's not moving, but she looks pretty bloodthirsty, Michonne.

And Glenn, Glenn's yelling, "Look what he did! If it wasn't for him, Maggie could've –"

I know Glenn's not aiming to shoot my dad, but Dad's in between Glenn and Merle, so it kind of looks that way, and I don't like it. Dad's saying, "No, he helped us get outta there, drop it –"

"Yeah, right after he beat the shit outta you!" Rick barks, giving my dad a look.

"Hey," protests Merle, pressing his back against a tree while Dad and Rick guard him, "We both took our licks, man."

"Jackass," my dad mutters.

"Hey, shut up –"

"Enough!" shouts Rick. We're being louder than we should be. I want my bow. Just then, Michonne presses forward with her sword, Rick shoves his gun in her face, Maggie yells something, Glenn acts pissed and still has his gun up. Dad takes a step closer to him, says, "Get that thing out of my face!"

And Merle's laughing.

"Hey . . . Looks like you've gone native, brother!"

"No more'n you hangin' out with that psycho back there!"

"Oh, yeah, man, he is a charmer, I gotta tell ya that . . ." His eyes drift over to Michonne and her scary, scary blade. "Been puttin' the wood to your girlfriend Andrea big-time, baby . . ."

I turn my head to scan for walkers and end up watching a walking stick stroll across a log. I like walking sticks, they're cool.

"What?" Glenn's saying, all out of breath. "Andrea's in Woodbury?"

"Yeah, right next to the Governor," answers Dad, not yelling anymore, which is nice.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Michonne step forward again, wave her sword again, and then there's Rick: "I told you to drop that! You know Andrea? Hey! Do you know Andrea?"

"Yep, she does," drawls Merle. I wish he'd shut up. "Her 'n Blondie spent all winter cuddlin' up in the forest, mm-mm-mm . . ."

The walking stick crawls out of sight and I keep on staring at its log, hoping it shows back up.

"Yeah . . . My Nubian queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, cut off the jaws, kept 'em in chains."

That's weird.

"Kind of ironic, now that I think about it –"

"Shut up, bro!"

Merle just grins at Dad. "Hey, man, we snagged 'em outta the woods, Andrea was close to dyin' . . ."

"There's no way she's with him," Maggie says.

The walking stick doesn't come back and I'm about ready to give up on it.

"Yeah," Merle insists. "Snug as two little bugs. So whatcha gonna do now, Sheriff, huh? Surrounded by a buncha liars, thugs, 'n cowards –"

"Shut up!" Rick's about had it with my uncle, I can tell.

"Whoa, man, look at this . . . Pathetic! All these guns, 'n no bullets in me . . ."

Dad moves right up to him. "Shut up!"

Because telling him that has worked so well so far.

"Shut up yourself!" For the first time, Merle stands up straight, temper about to blaze, I can tell. "Buncha pussies you run with –"

That's when Rick knocks him on the head with the butt of his pistol and I get the first moment of peace I've had in a full day. "Asshole."

I take back every bad thing I've ever thought or said about him.

. . . . .

"It won't work," Rick's saying later, as him and Dad and me and Maggie and Glenn circle around each other on the road. Discussing.

"It's gotta," says my dad.

"He'll stir things up." Meaning Merle. Merle, over by that tree way in the woods, leaning on it and groaning like he's at death's door.

"Look, the Governor's probably on the way to the prison right now," my dad points out, calmly. I'm in between him and Rick, which might help. "Merle knows how he thinks, and we could use the muscle."

Dad brought my bow and arrows with them. My bow's now on my shoulder and my quiver's now on my back and I'm whole again, which is probably the only reason I have the energy to stand here with these four right now, even if I am only looking at their feet while they argue. And they're certainly arguing. It's pretty much the world against my dad, though. Like, right now, Maggie's saying "We're not having him at the prison" at the same time that Glenn starts in with, "He had a gun to our heads!" And then Glenn, he gestures at me, which I really wish he hadn't done. "Look at her arm! The Governor tossed her across a room and Merle didn't lift a finger to stop him!"

I grimace, running my hands through my hair, and something inside of me makes me say what I say next even though my brain says no. "He didn't know the Governor was gonna have me brought there. And he tried to get him to leave me out of it."

Why am I defending him? Why, why, why? Glenn's looking at me with the same question on his face. "Sydney, the Governor threatened to kill you!"

"He did what?" my dad growls at the same time I snap, "Merle didn't know he was gonna do that!"

"Look, it doesn't even matter, it doesn't." Glenn turns back to my dad, who's lifting my sleeve and looking at my arm again. "Do you really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol? Beth?"

I look up. My collarbone doesn't like it. "Carol's dead."

Silence for a minute, and then my dad makes a sort-of laughing noise, letting go of my sleeve and rubbing his eyes. "Slipped my mind . . . No, babe, she ain't. I found her in a cell on one of the lower levels."

"And – and she's alright? She ain't bit or nothin'?"

"She's just fine."

It takes a second for his words to sink in. When a part of you breaks off, it can't just slip back into the same place easy as anything. But a feeling sort of like happiness but much more leaks into my chest and I stare down the road, a wide smile that feels weird on me but that I can't do anything about taking over my face. I never even bothered to hope for something like this because it was impossible, it was impossible . . . Carol . . .

The conversation doesn't stop for me. Good. Maybe they'll forget I'm here. "And no, I ain't got a problem with Merle bein' near any of 'em. He ain't a rapist."

"Well his buddy is!"

The picture of happy, alive Carol is pushed from my brain by the memory of a shirtless, crying Maggie, and I swallow and the more-than-happiness feeling turns heavier.

"They ain't buddies no more! Not after last night."

"There's no way Merle's gonna live there without puttin' everyone at each other's throats," says Rick.

"So you're gonna cut Merle loose and bring The Last Samurai home with us?" Dad means Michonne, who's slumped over on Silver, just out of earshot.

"She's not comin' back."

Maggie cuts in. "She's not in a state to be on her own."

"She did bring you guys to us," Glenn tiredly reminds Rick.

"And then ditched us."

I don't know about any of that. I rest my head against my bow. A walker would be nice right now. Taking down walkers is simple and easy and there's never any debate over it.

"At least let my dad stitch her up?" asks Maggie.

But Rick gives a little headshake. "She's too unpredictable."

"That's right," Dad agrees. "We don't know who she is . . . Merle, Merle's blood."

"No," says Glenn, whose eye is beyond black, whose chin is smeared with red, all thanks to my uncle. "Merle's your blood. My blood, my family, is standing right here. And waiting for us back at the prison."

"And you and Sydney are part of that family," Rick tells Dad.

I look from Rick, to my dad, to Merle in the woods. Actually, I look at Merle right when Rick points at him. "But he's not. He's not."

"Man, y'all don't know," my dad says. Rick's stepped closer to Maggie and Glenn, so it's sort of like me and my dad are facing off against them. Which I don't like. At all. I want to go home and see Carol. And Carl. Everyone. Hell, I even want to see the baby. So whatever Dad's going to say to get Rick to let us bring Merle back to the prison with us, I wish he'd hurry up and say it so we can get going. But Dad, he takes his time. A few weighted seconds have passed when he finally talks again.

"Fine. We'll fend for ourselves."

I only thought I hurt my collarbone before. As my head snaps up this time, that bone screams, but I don't care. "What?"

"That's not what I was saying," Glenn tells Dad. And of course it wasn't, that's ridiculous, and Dad can't mean what I think he does –

But then: "Me and Merle and Sydney, we're a packaged deal."

The ground seems to drop from my feet but somehow I'm still standing, somehow, and that doesn't make any sense or maybe nothing makes sense and I say "Dad" but then don't know what else to say and Maggie's talking, Maggie.

"Daryl, you don't have to do that."

"It was always Merle and I before this." He has a hand on my shoulder and it feels like too much.

"Don't . . ." Maggie begins, or trails off, or whatever.

"You serious? You're just gonna leave like that?" Glenn doesn't seem to understand. No, that's me. Maybe that's both of us. I can't look away from my dad. Shouldn't I talk? I should talk.

"You'd do the same thing."

"Well, what do you want us to tell Carol?" Glenn challenges, and here is where my voice comes back, comes back fighting.

"And Carl?" I say, and my voice is too high-pitched, I sound too young.

Dad meets my eyes. "They'll understand."

I move away from him. His arm slips from me as I do. "No, they won't!" I won't. I don't.

Dad rubs a hand over his mouth, kneels down to me. I'm breathing too hard, and at some point I've started shaking my head in quick little motions that feel more like I'm trembling. Am I trembling? "Syd, you know I'd never do this if it wasn't the best thing for all of us –"

"It ain't!"

"Babe –"

Then there's Glenn. "So you're just gonna take her out into the woods with just the three of you? You really think that's what's best for her?"

"Between me and Merle, she ain't ever gonna be safer!"

"Dad, no!" I say, using a tone I wouldn't dare use with him under any other circumstances. "No."

We eye each other for a while. Then he says, "This ain't a discussion. C'mon," and stands. "Say goodbye to your pop for me," he tells Maggie as he walks away from us, towards Silver.

And I feel dizzy. I feel like I'm falling and floating and twisting and turning every which way in the air, but I'm still here, on this road, and that makes it worse. I take three small steps after my dad, who Rick is already going after, and then I turn and head back to Maggie and Glenn, and I'm crying but not really, I think I'm doing that thing Maggie was doing when Merle had her at gunpoint, that dry sob sort of thing, and Maggie holds my face and her eyes are wet and she says all sort of soft, fast things that I guess should be comforting and Glenn's got one hand on her back and one hand on mine and my dad calls my name and I shake my head and Maggie tells me I need to go, it'll be okay, I need to go, and I end up over by Silver, and I guess my legs got me here, but I don't remember the trip, and the back of Silver is open, Rick's staring at my dad, his lips are pressed together, and Dad's taking out two bags, and one of them is my backpack from home. Home. Home.

"Dad." That's me, that's my voice being all hoarse, and I'm in front of Rick now. "No," my voice says, "No, we can't, please."

"Sydney –"

"Please!"

"Sydney . . ." Dad leans down to me. And what he says next he doesn't say mean but it still cuts like he did. "Don't make me drag you outta here. 'Cause I will."

I can't move for a very long time. Rick rubs my shoulder, I think, but I don't really feel too in tune with my body. Or anything. I'm aware of it when my dad holds out my backpack to me, and I'm aware of taking it, and I'm aware of adjusting my bow and arrows so I can fit the backpack on my shoulders, but I'm aware of it all in a distant way. I'm aware of looking back at Rick to see him watching me sadly with Carl's eyes. And I'm aware of turning to my dad again, telling him "I hate you" and him sighing. But it's all distant.

No. Rick's eyes that are Carl's eyes weren't distant. I felt those.

Into the woods, me first, my dad a few paces behind me. I reach Merle. I pass him. "Aw, what's the matter, Princess?" he calls after me as I walk towards somewhere. "Life not treatin' ya up to your usual standards?"

I stop, spin, look at him, shout, "Shut up, you stupid asshole!"

The smile drops from his face and he moves towards me with "What you just say to me?" and then Dad steps in front of him and shoves him back and points at me, then in a direction. "Not another word. Go." And so I do. Don't say another word, and not just because he told me not to. Apparently nothing I have to say matters, so why bother?

As I'm walking, I hear my uncle say something about an ass-whoopin', me being disrespectful and needing to be taught a lesson. And my dad tells him to leave me be. Which doesn't make up for anything. It doesn't. Nothing he can do will ever make up for this.