Michonne disappeared into the forest, coming back out a few minutes later, herding a disgruntled Joe in front of her. She seemed respectful of the slow progress he made with his cane, but she was unapologetic. She shot a glare at Methos, who hovered nearby. "I know he is a watcher."

"As if that matters now," Methos snorted. He ignored her muttered 'more than you know,' after making a mental note to look into it later. He checked Joe carefully, hiding a smile at the expected grumbling over his 'fussing'. His smile disappeared, though, when he found fresh bruises on Joe's arms. He gritted his teeth, fighting down the urge to challenge Michonne for daring to injure his friend. He lowered his voice as he asked Joe, "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah. She got the drop on me just after you and the kid left," Joe said, rubbing his wrists with a scowl in Michonne's direction. "Said she'd seen the two of you head out."

"She must have been keeping watch, staying just out of my range. I didn't sense her, only the walkers that have been passing through." It wasn't a precisely an apology for leaving Joe undefended.

"I wondered about that. Usually you're better at picking up when there's another immortal nearby."

He was just about to respond when Daryl spoke, drawing their attention.

"Hey!" Daryl stalked over to Michonne, grabbing at the battered bag slung over her shoulder. "That's Glenn's!"

She returned his attention coolly, dancing back a step to keep him from pulling the bag away from her. "Yes. It's full of the baby supplies he and the girl had managed to collect before the Governor's men captured them. This was left behind."

Daryl let his hand fall away from the strap. "Asskicker needs that stuff." His eyes never left the bag as he gnawed at his lip, as if considering something.

"Who is the Governor? You mentioned him before." Despite how angry as he was with her, attacking a potential ally was counterproductive. No matter what, he and Joe needed local information, and the young one wouldn't keep still for long.

"He is known only as the Governor. He rules a town called Woodbury, about ten miles away."

"Rules." It wasn't quite a question, but he waited for Michonne to nod. He caught Joe's eyes. Should they get involved? Helping a brand new immortal was a duty, but they had other business in the area. "That's… interesting."

"Very," Joe agreed, leaning more heavily than usual on his cane. The events of the day were apparently catching up with him. It was getting late — they needed to make a decision, soon, or call it a night, so Joe could rest.

"Interesting or not, we have to rescue Glenn and Maggie!" Daryl had evidently made up his mind which was more important to him — his friends or the baby supplies.

"I'll help you get your friends back," Michonne promised, "but you need reinforcements. The group at the prison, maybe?"

She might have a point, but Methos would have felt better if Daryl had been the one to mention his group. Did she have ulterior motives? Was she a spy for this 'Governor'?

"There ain't no time for that," Daryl protested. "How long have they been prisoners now? They're in danger!"

She hesitated. "I… don't think that the Governor would have them hurt. Not this soon, anyway. There's time to do this right."

"To hell with all y'all," Daryl spat. "I don't need help. I'll go rescue them myself."

"Wait." Before the younger immortal could move away, Methos reached out and caught his arm, then asked Michonne, "You think we'll need help. Why?"

"A small group has a better chance of infiltrating a town than a large group," Joe pointed out.

"True," Michonne said. "But the Governor has guards and soldiers. A larger group can split up if needed, and still be a force to be reckoned with. If nothing else, the baby and its mother need these things, yes?"

Daryl scowled. "Her ma died birthin' her. I already did a supply run for her. This stuff is needful, but…"

"We can leave the bag here, with Joe. He can take it to the prison while we go rescue your friends." And that, Methos thought with satisfaction, would keep him out of harm's way, and hopefully headed towards a real bed — or at least, a prison cot.

"That's not a good…." Daryl sighed heavily. "Fuck. All right. We go to the prison and try to explain to Rick."

That was interesting too. Daryl was willing to let this Rick decide, but he was reluctant for that to be their first course of action. What wasn't Daryl telling them?

Methos walked beside Michonne in the gathering gloom, leading his horse and the pack horse, as they followed Daryl toward the prison. Joe rode behind them, maybe keeping watch, but more likely just trying to stay in the saddle. When this was over, he ought to bring Joe to McLeod, even though that meant another trip across country. The Highlander would make sure Joe had a chance to recover.

Michonne glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "What are you doing here? Neither one of you sound native to this area."

"Neither are you."

"I've been around here long enough," she shrugged.

He inclined his head towards her, as though she'd scored a point. Maybe she had. The Okoye he remembered from the 1850s had been in Boston, complete with a Bostonian accent. "We're here searching for a facility run by the watchers. According to our information, they were working on a cure."

"I know that place," Michonne's expression changed, turning grim. "It's empty."

Methos studied her, surprised by the harshness in her voice. What did she know? Was it why she still thought Joe being a watcher mattered? Silence stretched for a few moments before he prompted, "You've been there."

"Yes. I thought they were hunters, trying to kill me, but they were trying to find a cure for… this… plague. Had they asked, I might have volunteered willingly. This sickness is evil. Instead, they ambushed me, and put me in a cage. Well. Those of them that survived the battle," she bared her teeth in a predatory grin.

No wonder she had been so suspicious of Joe. "And you got free."

"I did. It was a few months after the plague started. They each fell to it, one by one. I knew what they were after by that time, so after I freed myself, I looked through their research." She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Damn."

She paused, stopping him with a touch on his arm. "There might still be hope. They didn't have all the research there. I overheard them talking about another facility."

"Where?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It wasn't information I was interested in at the time."

Methos looked back at Joe, sitting slumped on his mare. "We'll have to check it out. Maybe we can find a clue."

Up ahead, Daryl paused, waiting for them to catch up. "The prison is up ahead. Just… let me do the talking. I'll explain things to Rick and the others."

"Just what do you think will happen?"

Daryl shifted uneasily rather than look directly at him. "Nothing. Just… we haven't had good luck with letting strangers hang around, and Rick gets kinda… protective."

Methos exchanged a look with Michonne, who shrugged and nodded, and then with Joe.

"Might as well, kid," Joe said, sounding exhausted.

Methos sighed, and said, "Lead on, then."

Daryl shrugged, resigned. "This way."

Methos shook his head, troubled. Just how 'protective' was this Rick? Was he right in allowing Daryl to lead them into a possibly dangerous situation?