Heaven.

Or at least I think this is heaven. It's actually darkness, a deep and endless pit of darkness. My mother was religious so I had a 'good understanding' of the concept that was Heaven, well, a 'general understanding' at least. It had to be this. It had to be. Though I did expect to see some pearly gates and maybe a cloud or two, but, who was I to complain? It was nice knowing God had taken pity on me trapped in a zombie infested world.

Unless of course, this wasn't Heaven at all, and I had been sent straight to hell. It would explain the darkness. And really, I shouldn't be all that surprised considering my life involved a non-existent relationship with the Big Guy. So maybe this was my punishment for not taking Sunday school lessons seriously. I wouldn't even put it past my mum to give me her condescending look and say 'I told you so,' because really, she had told me to take things more seriously, several times. And anyway, a zombie apocalypse should have been a perfect opportunity to renounce my sins and be welcomed into the divine otherworld–or whatever it's called.

Well, too late now anyway.

I'm already in hell, or a part of hell. Maybe the darkness is just a kind of test. See how long the human can survive in a pit of nothingness, before she becomes insane. Or maybe my sanity is the reason I'm seeing darkness now. I mean it would figure, I'd be the only person ever, in the existence of mankind, to be trapped in some kind of dark void with only my troublesome thoughts to keep me company.

I sighed.

There really was no fighting it now. I was dead. In fact, I don't even recall how I was killed. How sad is that? Maybe it was from some kind of poison, or a dagger to the heart. Actually, that sounded a lot like Romeo and Juliet. Ugh. Can I not be anymore creative then 'two star-crossed lovers?' I mean seriously? Who wants to be poisoned, or daggered to death? How idiotic, moronic, completely unoriginal, boring–Hey there's a light!

I blinked, taking in the blurry world around me.

Flickers of orange light clouded my vision momentarily and I had to struggle to concentrate on certain images. The first thing I noticed was the movement of dark figures, whose faces remained a mystery in my current state. And then came the realisation that I was laying on my side, hands bound behind me, the cold ground, cool against my cheek. The smell hit me next, charred wood and bloodied flesh mixed with undertones of sulphur. It reminded me of the explosion back at Woodbury, and I frowned momentarily, wondering if I had somehow been transported backed there. Groggily, I attempted to move my head, feeling the stiffness in my neck before I had even moved.

This indicated two things.

One, I'd been lying on the ground for some time. Two, if I tried to move any further, the pain would only increase. Considering these two pieces of information and deciding that my fate could be much worse, I twisted to get a better, though slightly hazy, view of my surroundings. The expected kink in my neck intensified as stabbing pains trailed down the sides of my neck and over the rest of my body. But I was able to accomplish a better view, and once I made out the shapes around me, my heart sunk.

I was back in the clearing.

Shit. No. No. I squeezed my eyes closed, taking in the turn of events, and then it all came back to me.

"Oh would you look at that," a booming voice interrupted us both. My head shot up to view Blake and eight of his goons. "One, big, family reunion."

Without another word they descended upon us. I could briefly make out Charlie yelling something to me, but was busy fending of the manacle of arms that came out of nowhere to restrain me. I pushed and pulled, screaming Charlie's name. My weapons were quickly snatched away and I was forced to the ground, my brother was nowhere in sight. Before I could even take in what was surely about to happen, a sharp burst of pain punctured the back of my skull and my eyes glazed as I slumped forward.

The last image I saw was of Blake's sea-green eyes smiling down at me in a blurry haze. And then darkness surrounded me.

Shit.

I'd fucked up. Believing that Charlie and I had finally made it out of the worst of our situation, I had dropped my guard. And then we were jumped. Now the group of men who wanted to kill me earlier would most likely kill Charlie as well. My stupid need to be with him during our escape had proved fruitless. We were captured now, and would at any moment face our inevitable deaths.

Charlie.

My eyes darted around suddenly, unable to accomplish much with my bound hands, and the waves of pain rolling through me. But it turned out I didn't need to look for him, as at that moment a deafening cry pierced the night's sky.

"Ahhh!"

No. Oh please, no.

"Have you had enough yet, Boss?" A sickening voice sent chills down my spine. I knew whom that voice belonged to. I could distinguish it anywhere. He laughed cruelly as Charlie cried out once more. "Ready to give in? No? Well, I admire your spirit. Foolish as it is."

This time, Charlie could only manage muffled exclamations, as whatever they were doing to him was repeated over and over again. The tears in my eyes spilled out over my cheeks and coated the dirt ground, creating a muddy puddle.

My eyes squeezed shut.

"Hey!" A new voice startled me, and my eyes flew open just in time to see a boot kick me in the stomach. I hunched over in shock and pain, crying out. "The bitch is awake."

Then suddenly, I was hauled to my feet, roughly dragged by my arms and discarded against the ground beside Charlie. I could only manage a brief glance at the tortured look in his eyes before I was abruptly backhanded across the face.

"So nice of you to join us," Blake growled, a resounding chorus of chuckles and jeers spouting off around his dark figure. I didn't have time to contemplate what he had said before being pulled to my feet once more, this time by my hair. Not even bothering to cry out in pain, I bit my lower lip and met his impassive gaze, knowing this was nothing compared to what was about to happen. "I thought we'd almost lost you."

A fist came out of nowhere, knocking me flat on my back. I didn't see where it had come from, but I could taste the blood in my mouth as a result. Choking on fresh tears, I tried to roll away, but was kicked once more in my stomach.

This time, they didn't stop.

I don't know how long it lasted. All I could feel was sharp bursts of pain everywhere. They kicked me with their steel-capped boots, shoved me into the dirt, backhanded me across the face, pulled my hair until it bled, and suffocated me with their hands. I was useless, defenceless, and helpless. There was nothing I could do, but take it.

And when it finally stopped, I struggled for air.

Trembling in the after effects of what they'd done, I found that I could somehow still move my limbs. It wasn't necessarily a good sign, but at least I was still breathing, for now.

"Now, now boys. Let's not be hasty." Blake's voice drifted to me from somewhere in the distance. I could hear the crunch of his boots against the ground and then I felt him beside me, his hand running over my now, tattered clothing. "And besides, she's a pretty, young thing. Wouldn't want to waste her."

My eyes barely fluttered open as he reached out and pulled me to my knees. I gasped at the shooting pain in my torso, but other then that I was surprised to feel that most of the damage was done to my face. Either way I knew Hershel wouldn't be happy. The thought almost made me smile.

"Silent like her brother too," he jeered at his men and was met with grunts of approval. Blake turned back and I expected him to laugh at the pathetic look I displayed, not even bothering to break out of his hold. Instead, he glared and suddenly gripped my chin, bringing my face closer to his. I winced. "Even though most of the men want to kill you now, I've convinced them to drag out your torture. You see," his sadistic smile returned. "After we've cleaned you up a bit, because well, you like shit. My men here are going to rape the fuck out of you, while your brother, watches." I closed my eyes briefly and tried to keep from shaking. It didn't work. "And when they're finished with you, we're going to make you watch as we beat your brother until he's nothing more than a pulverised mess for all those biters out there to eat. But don't worry," his hand squeezed my chin tightly and a dark look flashed beneath his sea-green eyes. "Once this is all over, I'll slit your throat and leave you to bleed out beside him. It's only right considering you're family and all. Though it is a waste," his hand brushed a strand of hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. "So beautiful. I can see why the redneck was so determined to save you." He chuckled and then straightened. Before Blake moved away however, he paused mid-stride and glanced back at me, his gaze calculating. I tensed under his scrutiny, looking away.

Humming thoughtfully to himself, he waved a dismissive hand, and motioned towards the crowd of men gathered in the distance. Two figures broke away from the crowd and approached, pulling me to my feet. Not waiting for any further instruction, they hauled my body to the far side of the clearing.

As I moved, my eyes instantly scanned the surrounding area.

I refused to give into these men. Now that I had an opportunity to breathe, so to speak, I was going to exploit it for all it was worth. That meant scouting the surrounding area.

Most of the men stood at the centre of the clearing, where Charlie was bound and beaten by the surrounding horde. I pushed aside the swell of emotions when I saw my brother, bloodied and bruised, lying face down in the dirt. I doubted I looked much better than him.

Four men stood watch around the outskirts of the clearing, holding rifles and what appeared to be the only major weapons that remained after the explosion. Judging by the number of men, there were either quite a few injured, or killed. It explained my brash beating from earlier. They were obviously feeling vengeful and had paid me back in kind before Blake's interference. I knew more was coming, but didn't dwell on it any longer, instead taking in the number of dark figures that remained. I counted thirteen. At least half of the group were missing. This surprised me, as I was sure at least twenty men would survive the explosion. But when we reached the place where my two captors were taking me, I realised why. At least thirty bodies were piled to the side of the Pavilion, already blazing in an orange haze. From the looks of the decaying forms inside, there was a mixture of corpses as well as others who had perished from the attack of the herd. I'd been counting on the corpses to inflict some damage, and it seemed that they had. But it wasn't nearly enough.

"Here." Dropping me onto a stool beside the inferno, the two men grunted something when I flinched away from them, but surprisingly backed away. "Make it quick. The others are waiting."

"Fine," a voice replied.

I didn't even notice him until he came into view. Reece. My eyes widened at the familiar sight, already summoning a false sense of hope from the deep recesses of my inner being. That was, until I replayed what my two assailants had said to him. In his hands Reece held a bucket of water and a cloth. His eyes remained fixed on the objects, unable to see my confusion yet, as he slowly rinsed the water from the cloth and finally met my gaze.

His face said it all.

"Try not to move," he whispered. "This is probably going to hurt."

I could only stare in stunned silence as he dabbed the cloth over my forehead, my lips, my cheek, and lastly my nose. So he was a bad guy after all.

Huh.

Andrea had been wrong. Reece wasn't a good man. He was a coward, and I had blindly believed he could be trusted. He was probably Blake's right hand man. Bitchy Morgan awoke from her small lounge and glared daggers. Of course, I couldn't give him too much grief, recalling a time where I had once been too afraid to help others. Still, it hurt to know that the one person I believed could help Charlie and I through this was just as bad as the rest of them. I adjusted my gaze and glared at the ground instead, not wanting to look into his eyes.

"Your nose is broken," his voice startled me after our long silence, but I refused to meet his gaze. Another moment passed over us. I could feel the eyes of my two captors on me, but they were obviously not interested in Reece, or didn't think he would try anything. He was one of them after all. They needn't worry.

"I know what you're thinking, Emma." My eyes reluctantly locked with his; surprised he had said my name. But he continued to work as if he hadn't said anything at all. "I know this must seem like a betrayal, but you have to believe me when I say, there's nothing else I can do."

For the first time since waking, I spoke.

"You're nothing more than a coward." I spat, noting how he tensed. "Andrea was wrong about you."

My spiteful words had done the trick and now Reece was glaring at me. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it? After seeing what they did to Andrea, to Charlie, to me, you still don't react. Tell me, how fair is it that you get to sit here cleaning me up so that they can rape me? How fair is that?"

Reece swallowed, his eyes flitting to my captors briefly before continuing to wipe my nose. It had thankfully stopped bleeding. For a moment, there was nothing said between us, and I could tell that Reece was thinking hard about what I'd just said. Not that I cared for his help, but at this rate, I was going to do whatever I could to save Charlie; even if it meant corrupting Reece into helping me.

"You don't get it," he murmured after a while. His forehead creased, and his eyes took on a worried focus, looking occasionally to the centre of the clearing where the other men waited for my release. "I want to help you, believe me I do. Charlie is hard, but he's fair. He was a good leader to us." His hand trembled slightly with his next words. "But they won't just kill me. I have someone I care about too."

I frowned. "You have friends here?"

"No. She's away on a mission. But when she comes back, and finds that Charlie is dead. She'll either kill or be killed, and I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen."

"Sounds like a lethal friend."

He half-smiled, but it wasn't full. "Michonne is definitely lethal."

Michonne.

I tensed, recognising the name instantly. My eyes bulged as I stared at him, mouth agape. Charlie and I had talked about her involvement in this whole scheme, and I knew she was an important fixture within the group. A second in command, or so Charlie had put it. But I didn't realise till now, the possible relationships she had kept with others.

Sensing my sudden change, Reece stilled once more and looked to me in confusion. Before he could open his mouth to question my blatant change, I hurriedly bet him to it. "I know her."

"What?"

It was definitely not what he'd been expecting.

"Michonne," I tried desperately to wrap my head around the same conclusion and almost smiled as he continued to look confused. And then an idea came to mind. "In fact, I know where she's being kept."

"Being kept?"

"Yes," I whispered, trying my best to appear indifferent when already I could see a possible chance to escape. "She was imprisoned by my people actually, at our base. If you help me and Charlie get out of here, I'll take you to her."

Reece appeared dumbfounded. His eyes were wide as he took in my words. I was playing on the chance that this 'friendship' he spoke of was more than a platonic camaraderie, and by the flash of relief in his eyes, I knew I'd hit the nail right on the head. But then he suddenly appeared sceptical.

"How do I even know we're talking about the same Michonne?"

Oh c'mon. I rolled my eyes. "Dark skin, brown eyes, dreadlocks for hair, and slings a badass Samurai Sword around. Ringing any bells?"

His eyes widened once more. "That's Michonne."

Yeah, I already said that Genius.

"So look," I deadpanned, a burst of adrenaline pulsing through me. "All I need is for you to get your hands on a weapon of some kind. If we can create a distraction then I'll try to grab Charlie and make it into the trees. There's a cabin, three miles East of here. We'll go, grab what we need, and then I'll take you to her."

Reece was already shaking his head, as he moved to wipe the blood dripping down my throat. "What about Blake?" He narrowed his eyes. "Michonne knew he was bad news from the start, even Charlie did. But now he's got those men wrapped around his finger. They'll do anything for him."

My reply was simple. "Then we'll take him out."

"How?"

"It'll have to be when he least expects it," I murmured, very aware that the men behind me were growing restless. "Any ideas?"

"Well," he began, a thought crossing his mind, but he seemed apprehensive to voice it. "I mean… He probably… wont, be… any more distracted…than…when he's… y'know…"

And I did know.

My hands twitched behind me. "Yes. I do know when he'll be most distracted. They all will be." And then a thought struck me. "Do you have any kind of weapon now?"

"What?"

"You heard," I winced when he bumped my chin, where I could tell fresh bruises were forming. "A weapon. Something small, easily concealable." I noticed the knife in his sheath. It was small and folded into a compact case. With a subtle lift of my brow, I motioned towards the metal weapon. "Give me your knife, slowly. Pretend like you're going to give me some water to drink from that canister beside you, and then slip it into my boots."

He stared at me momentarily, silent and contemplative, and then placing the rag and bucket of water to the side, he reached for the canister and simultaneously pulled his weapon out. Because my back was to the clearing, Reece was able to do this without too much speculation from the others. It merely looked as though he was trying to give me water.

As he unscrewed the cap from his canister, his eyes did a quick scan of the surrounding area and seeming satisfied with his little assessment, he quickly shoved the knife into my boots, pushing it, as far it would go without looking too suspicious.

Seriously? Bitchy Morgan rolled her eyes. Could he be any more obvious?

Ignoring her, I concentrated on wriggling my toes so that I could get a better feel for the weapon. This could be it. I clung to the hope that if everything played out we would be all right. Charlie and I could still make it through this.

That is, if they didn't kill us first.

"Okay," Reece drew my attention back to him, holding up the silver canister that I now realised was a flask. Oh well. "Hope you like bourbon."

The amber liquid burned all the way down my throat, but I was silently thankful for ridding the metallic taste from my mouth, whilst simultaneously enjoying a bit of 'liquid courage' before whatever Blake and his men had planned.

Surprisingly, the alcohol helped to clear my vision as well, a light hum settling over me. I wasn't anywhere near as drunk as I wanted to be, but I was feeling a lot better than I had five minutes ago. Soaring with newfound knowledge, I took one last gulp of the beverage and motioned to Reece that it was time.

My eyes locked with his as he re-screwed the flask. "I'm counting on you, Reece." I didn't wait for him to respond, knowing he would start second-guessing himself from the moment the men took me away. "Just remember what I promised. I'll take you to Michonne when all this is over. But you have to hold up your end of the bargain. Understand?"

He only nodded.

Taking that as their cue, my two captors finished their own conversation, and gripped either side of my arms. "Hope she wasn't too much trouble, Ty."

"Yeah," the taller of the two grinned mischievously. "Hope she wasn't–oh would you look at that! She's actually pretty decent, even with the cuts and bruises. Good job, Ty."

The dark skinned man merely grunted and stalked away, but not before giving me a specific look. I only hoped it meant he would keep his promise to me.

"Pretty lips baby."

A voice distracted me and I looked up into his bright blue eyes. I instantly recognised him as Wes, one of my earlier assailants. He smirked at the hard look I gave him.

"Pretty good ass too," his comrade gripped my behind and squeezed; eliciting an instinctive shove from me I didn't know I had the energy to give. This only seemed to amuse both men further. "Feisty little one isn't she? I like."

But rather than backhand me like I half-expected them to, they both laughed and roughly pulled me towards the centre of the clearing. I hadn't noticed before, but the sun was beginning to rise in the East, already flooding the campsite in a hazy swirl of oranges and yellows.

Could it be morning already?

Shoving me to the ground, the guy named Wes trailed his fingers along my cheek, allowing a sickness to wash through me at his touch. He smiled indulgently and as an after thought, he pulled my head back so that I was forced to look up at him from my knees, enduring the lower half of his body pressed against my shoulder. I didn't even give him the satisfaction of trembling, though I did feel like vomiting all over him.

"That's enough, Wes," the new leader grinned at us, though there was a touch of annoyance in his eyes. He didn't look pleased. "Wait your turn now."

With a reluctant sigh, Wes blew me a kiss and swaggered over to join his awaiting crowd of friends. If it had been any different, I would have killed him right then. Arrogant fucker deserved to die.

And soon you will have that chance. Bitchy Morgan observed the anger rising up in us both. But don't let them get to you now. Play it cool, Emma.

"Now," Blake slapped his hands together, turning to face all his men. "After all this torment, we finally get to carry out our torture."

The group cheered.

"And I know we've lost some of our people," even the guards surrounding the outer clearing were listening in. Blake was an excellent bull shitter. "But it's time we took care of this once and for all. Starting with her."

I couldn't see Charlie out of the corner of my eye. But I knew he could sense what was about to happen. And sure enough, when two other men approached me, one I recognised as the red-haired man named Gavin, Charlie's screams suddenly filled the air. My lips trembled, listening as he pleaded for them to let me go. I couldn't look at him, knowing it would only break me. They needed to believe I was scared shitless, which wasn't all that hard. But looking at Charlie would only make me want to reassure him that everything was going to be all right, that I had a plan to escape, which would then make Blake suspicious. I needed him to think he was in control of everything. If he didn't, Reece's plans and mine would be ruined.

The two assailants stood me up, and then unbound my restraints on Blake's orders. This confused me momentarily, as I thought I'd have to struggle to get to my knife, but was glad nonetheless.

That was, until I heard Blake's next words. "Take off your shirt."

This resulted in a deafening roar from the men.

"Well?" Blake growled, when I continued to stand there gaping at them all. He made an effort to look displeased. "I'm not a very patient man. Take off your shirt. Now!"

"NO!" Charlie's screams carried over. "NO EMMA, DON'T DO IT! DON'T GIVE INTO THEM. STAY STRONG! PLEASE, EMMA. DON'T DO IT–"

"Shut him up!"

Blake snapped his fingers at someone and they loomed forward suddenly to gag my brother, though he continued to scream through it. My hands were trembling profusely now.

Should I fight him?

I knew what he wanted me to do. If the obvious leering from the group of men surrounding us was any indication, Blake intended to put on a floorshow for all to bear witness, resulting in my utter humiliation. My body prickled with pins and needles running throughout me. The mere thought of their eyes watching, as I undressed myself, physically repulsed every fibre in my being. I didn't want any of this. My breaths came in sharper, shallower, as images of what they had planned came to mind. It reminded me of Thomas's advances not so long ago. He too managed to scar me with vile attempts of rape. But this was something else, something much darker. I felt violated and humiliated to be standing, helplessly in front of them, eyes wide with fear. This was wrong. On so many levels, this was wrong.

"We're waiting," Blake stepped toward me, his signature half-smirk in place, but I did see the flash of anger in his sea-green eyes. "And I don't like to be kept waiting, sweetheart. Remove the shirt…Or else."

My eyes widened further, and I trembled back a step, unable to keep from cowering away from the man. His men howled in laughter at my frightened stance, urging the show to begin.

Stay strong, Bitchy Morgan's tender voice filled me with relief. She was suited up in her black leather suit, clutching a wooden axe. Her face was staunch. You can do this Emma. Stall them. Wait for Reece's distraction.

She was right of course.

There was a plan in place. If Reece held up his end of the bargain, I would be out of this mess soon. I only hoped that things didn't escalate beyond what I could handle. If any of these men laid a hand on me, I would surely break. Though it wasn't exactly ideal, I could handle taking off my shirt. In fact, if I stalled long enough maybe I would only have to loose my shirt before anyone actually inflicted permanent damage.

"I don't see you taking off your shirt, sweetheart." Blake's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and with a dark flash in his eyes he pulled a large hunter's knife from its sheath. Expecting him to charge forward, I was rather surprised when he slowly took five measured steps backwards…right next to Charlie.

"No," I cried out, realising his game. "No, please no. Don't hurt him."

But Blake already had the knife to Charlie's throat, his sadistic smile in place. "It took me a moment to figure out your weakness. Our attacks, insults, and threats, they all seemed to weaken you physically, but it never caused you any real pain." The knife's blade pressed further into Charlie's neck and I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from crying out for him to stop. His smile deepened at the small grunt Charlie elicited. "I should've recognised it before, the obvious emotions you hold for the ones you love. It was there when you sacrificed yourself for your friends. And it was most definitely there, when that idiotic redneck attempted to break you free." I couldn't move. I was frozen. Blake had discovered my weakness, the deepest and truest one of them all. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. "I should've known, and now I do." He motioned for one of his men to take over, and a large, red-handled machete, held by one of his goons, replaced his hunter's knife. "Now, where were we–Ah? That's right. Remove your shirt," and then in a deadly growl, he resumed his earlier position. "Or I'll remove your brother's head."

I didn't even hesitate.

With trembling hands, I undid the first button of my shirt, watching Charlie the entire while to be sure Blake remained true to his word. Ignoring my brother's pleas for me to stop, I slowly undid the last button and then carefully shrugged the frayed item from my shoulders. Wolf-whistles and shouts of approval ensued. My eyes closed to block them all out, but it was almost impossible when I could feel their hideous eyes watching my every move.

"Well, well, well, looks like little miss Feisty Pants has been holding out on us men," Blake's chuckle caused a familiar wave of nausea to roll through me. I was determined not to let him see how much it affected me, but it was hard when the shouts from his men grew louder. "Now… Take off your bra."

My eyes widened.

No. No. No. I can't do this. I won't do this. He can go to hell, they all can. Repulsive. Miserable. Bastards! They can't just do this. I don't deserve to be humiliated this way. I can't. I can't.

Pull yourself together! Bitchy Morgan growled, rising from her chaise lounge to fix me with a frightening glare. She wasn't impressed in the slightest. It's not just you anymore. Charlie's in danger too. And the longer you mess around, the more it'll piss them off and he'll end up dead. Do you want that?

Did I want that?

Of course I didn't. Charlie meant more to me then whatever pain these men could inflict. Although I wasn't strong enough to keep the fear out of my eyes, I still wouldn't let them hurt my brother. He was family. And family always came first.

Fighting back tears, I reached behind me to un-do the clasp of my bra. It actually wasn't mine. Maggie had leant it to me on my return to the Prison, and though it was a bit flashier than I was used to–an electric blue–it still fit my small chest just right. I didn't need to look up to see the collective grunts of approval from my audience, I could feel their eyes on me as I discarded the item on the ground and hastily covered my chest as best I could.

Blake took a moment to watch me closely, his eyes raking over my exposed flesh in delight. Then, seeming satisfied with his observation, he licked his lips and motioned for the man restraining Charlie to fall back. It seemed my earlier compliance had resulted in the man thinking that I wouldn't try anything again.

For some reason this made me angry.

I welcomed the heady feeling, allowing it to wash through me in endless waves. It was a nice change from the pathetic feeling of helplessness. Bitchy Morgan made her best Xena Warrior Princess impression, and whipped an axe over her head. It clanged to the ground in a satisfying crunch. There was no way I was going to give these men the satisfaction of whimpering like a little girl anymore. If they wanted to get to me, they were going to have to try harder than that.

Fuckers.

"Oh you're teasing us honey," Wes joined his fellow comrades as they leered at me to take my hands away. I narrowed my eyes. "Don't be shy. We ain't going to hurt you that much. Unless you make it difficult."

The group of men chorused in agreement.

And somehow, I found my voice.

I locked eyes with Wes. "When this is all over, I'm going to enjoy killing you first."

Then, in a very calculating move, I spat on the ground and issued my best 'fuck you and the horse you rode in on,' look.

It was safe to say, they didn't appreciate my defiance.

"Oh," Blake merely chuckled, and then he nodded to Wes behind him. "You wont have to wait till this is all over. Get her!"

Like a flash of lightning, Wes ripped away from the protesting crowd and darted toward me. I narrowed my eyes on his approach. He was in front of me in a matter of seconds, taking a moment for his towering figure to hover over me, before he suddenly gripped the back of my legs and hoisted me against his pelvis. Fucker. I kicked and screamed, clawing at his eyes in an eager attempt to stop his lowering face. But this was to my disadvantage as now that my hands were occupied, Wes had a clear view of my chest, and he groaned in delight. Without a moment's hesitation he dropped me to the ground in an aching heap and quickly straddled my hips, pinning my arms above me.

"I have to say," he leered, chuckling at my protests. "You're a mighty fine sight for someone in the middle of an apocalypse. The best one we've ever captured for sure."

The sounds of men loomed closer, egging their comrade on. I struggled again, trying my best to buck him off, but it was useless. I was smaller than the entire group, there was no way I could even attempt to push him off me. But that didn't mean I was about to give up, spurred by the newfound anger in me. When Wes leaned forward to place a slobbery kiss against my mouth, I wretched away from him in disgust, trying for the umpteenth time to throw him off me. This only amused him further as he ground his hips into mine. I closed my eyes to fight against the nausea in my stomach.

"Oh now don't look away sweetheart, this is the best part," he trailed his kisses down my neck, over my chest and latched onto one of my breasts. There, he bit down hard. I couldn't help but gasp, disgusted that he had even thought to do it and had known it would pull me up short in shock alone. Wes merely chuckled in delight. "This is the best part, little flower. I only want to see your eyes."

He loomed over me now, his deadly smirk in place. And taking both my hands in one of his, he then used his other to undo his belt buckle. The group of men cheered and chorused together, calling out who wanted 'the bitch' next. I turned away from their chants and focused instead on Wes.

My anger overwhelmed me now. There was no way in hell; I was going to let them do this.

Taking a moment to catch my second breath, I waited for Wes to finish undoing his belt and unzip his pants. There was only one way to distract him now, and when I ceased my struggles, like I had planned, Wes locked eyes with me in confusion. I offered my most sultry of smiles, the kind I knew men couldn't resist. He hung his jaw in astonishment.

"Please," I whispered, batting my eyelids. "Let me do that."

And then, although I felt like puking, I arched my back and pushed up into his groin area, smiling wickedly the entire while. Wes practically wet himself from my smouldering look alone. "Oh, sweetheart. Don't tease me now."

"Let me do it," I insisted, a dangerous spark igniting my eyes. "It's been so long."

His forehead dropped onto mine and he smirked widely. "I knew you were a dirty bitch."

I licked his mouth seductively. "Please?"

Wes could only nod shakily as he released my hands and placed them either side of my head. I smirked knowingly, allowing my own hands to trail down his whimpering body and catch the hem of his trousers. Uncoiling his belt, I distracted him by arching my back further and leaning into his neck. There, I playfully chuckled in his ear, eliciting a roar of encouragement from the men, and a groan from Wes. This was the distraction I needed, and I leant further into him, grasping the back of his neck with my free hand.

"Wes," I breathed. He chuckled at my forwardness and ground his hips into mine once more, filling his nostrils with my scent. With his belt wrapped firmly over my hand, I pulled him closer and whispered into his ear. "I told you I would kill you first."

I drove my belted hand into his groin, earning a sharp intake of breath like I had expected, and his hold on me slackened. Wasting no time, I drew in all my strength and shoved him off me, not even listening to the protests of the other men as I quickly wound the belt around his neck. Knowing I would only have five seconds before the men attacked me, I let out a piercing cry as my foot dug into his neck and I pulled with everything I had.

His neck snapped under the pressure of the belt, and the flailing limbs that were attempting to push me off, abruptly stopped. I could only appreciate the victory for a millisecond of the time, as no sooner had I let go, did three of Blake's men yank me off and throw me a good distance away.

Blake was at my side in an instance. "Stupid bitch," he spat, backhanding me across the face. I recovered quickly from the blow and rolled to my knees, glaring up at him with anger still pulsing through me.

"No, you're the stupid one," I breathed a chuckle through the metallic taste in my mouth. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

BANG!

A loud explosion suddenly ripped through the air, and Blake stumbled backwards as it rang throughout the campsite. My eyes registered the panicked state of those around me as they hurried to escape the blast zone. It seemed Reece had found my little execution a perfect opportunity to carry out our plan, and I couldn't help but feel the relief flooding through me.

But it was only short lived as gunshots sprang from the far side of the campsite, lighting up the place.

Reece?

It was too much gun power from him, and I soon noticed the shots didn't only come from the far side of the clearing like I had initially thought, but they rather appeared to surround us.

What the fuck?

I grunted my frustrations, doing my best to cover my exposed breasts, as I looked for any kind of weapon. Even though it was mostly Blake's men who were falling, I didn't want to risk the chance that they wouldn't hurt me. It was while I desperately scoured the place for an escape route and weapons that I heard them.

Voices.

From out of nowhere, Rick, T-Dog, Glenn, Dale and Daryl appeared, firing shots into the air. It was unexpected and caught Blake's men completely by surprise, as one by one the few men with weapons, dropped to the ground. My eyes could only process their sudden arrival for a minute before I snapped back to attention and discreetly tried to manoeuvre the knife from my boots. I'd only just managed to clasp my fingers around the blade, when Blake suddenly yanked my head backwards against him.

We struggled a moment.

I attempted to buck him off me, not wanting to reveal my weapon until I was sure I had a clear target. It was made extra difficult trying to keep one arm over my exposed breasts, and Blake used this to his advantage, knowing I was trying to keep covered. Soon, after a few shoves and grunts of outrage, Blake roughly pulled my hair until I was standing just in front of him, scraping the front of his shoes with the back of mine. He growled when I tried to struggle out of his hold yet again, and tugged hard against my hair before fastening his right arm around my neck and locking me in place. His other hand clutched a silver-barrelled pistol and he held it to my temple, muttering for me to quit moving.

I realised then that he was using me as leverage against Rick and the others who were making quick progress of taking control of those who surrendered. They were all fierce, yelling for the group of Blake's goons to kneel in front of them. T-Dog and Dale were already freeing Charlie from his bonds, and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing he would be okay.

"Looks like the cavalry have arrived," I jeered, choking a little when Blake's arm tightened its hold. "Guess your plan didn't work out after all."

"Shut up bitch, or I'll kill you now."

"Huh," I laughed, appearing more confident than I felt. "Kill me and you'll definitely be dead." Bitchy Morgan smirked, knowing that the others wouldn't waste any time in taking him down if Blake tried anything. In fact, I wouldn't put it past them to kill Blake for what he was doing now.

"We'll see," was all he muttered.

But I didn't give him the chance to test his theory.

With all my strength, I dropped down to the ground, hoping my dead weight would catch him off guard. It did. Blake stumbled forward with the pressure of my sudden weight, and his tight hold slackened, as did the gun he had pointed to my head. Before he could contemplate my next movements, I rammed my elbow into his side, while covering myself as best as I could. He keeled over in surprise, attempting to grip my hair, but I was already twisting out of his hold in an instant, holding the hilt of my weapon and whipping around to face Blake. He didn't see me coming. I drove the weapon forward, tripping up slightly when he attempted to grab my arm and restrain me. The knife missed his heart, and instead pierced the side of his neck, just under his jaw. It was enough to get me away from him, but it didn't cause that much harm and soon he was chasing after me, gripping my shoulder tightly. The pressure halted any further movements, but I wouldn't let him get any further, bringing my leg around to kick out at his shin. He stumbled, bringing me down with him and I felt his other hand attempt to force me to the ground. To my disadvantage, he was stronger. So it didn't take him long to throw me to the ground, and straddle my hips with his heavy weight. But I still held the weapon, and once I was able to grip it at the right angle, I let out a piercing cry and drove my knife forward. It slashed his left eye with a satisfying sound that caused him to cry out in pain. Unfortunately the victory only lasted a moment when, instead of loosening his hold on me like I had hoped, Blake dropped forward and nearly crushed me with the fullness of his weight. I choked out, and gasped for air, attempting to push him off me, but to no prevail.

"Bitch," he growled into my ear, and before I could contemplate his next move, he pulled the knife from my hand and leaned back only to deliver a series of blows to my face.

I really wished Rick and the others had caught him in the act right then and there. It would have been nice for the creep to be dealt a taste of his own medicine. Fucker. Though I had managed to inflict some damage, Blake still had the upper hand and wasn't finished with me yet. This time he made sure I couldn't escape, pulling me to my knees and holding me in a death like grip. I swayed in his arms, unable to make out the blurry images before me. The headache I had suppressed for so long was well and truly back, pounding against my head.

From somewhere in the far recesses of my foggy mind, I was able to make out a chilling silence that hung in the air. The sounds of gunshots and yelling had stopped. Did something happen to the others? Were they okay? I feared for their safety in true Emma Morgan fashion, but frowned when Blake suddenly tensed behind me. I hated to feel him so close, only glad his arm was somewhat covering my exposed chest, but couldn't see what he was anxious about over the pounding in my head.

Dark spots clouded my vision and I knew that any moment I would soon pass out. I'd endured this kind of torture before, funnily enough, and knew the tell tale signs of my body giving out from exhaustion. I only hoped that I would pass out before he killed me.

And then the most gratifying voice spoke through the dark spots in my vision. "Let er' go!"

Daryl?

My heartbeat quickened at the sound of his voice. I could recognise it anywhere. Like a beacon of light, I concentrated on the direction I had heard his voice, and one by one they came into view. My friends. Rick, Dale, Glenn, T-Dog and lastly, Daryl, all stood a few metres away from me. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. They were here. They had come to rescue me. Without even thinking about it, my body instinctively leant towards them, but before I could make so much as a single move, Blake hauled me back to him, pressing the tip of his weapon closer to my head.

"Oh I don't think so, lover-boy," and then, to piss them off further, he nuzzled my neck, his foul breath overwhelming me. In the distance there was a scuffle, Daryl had obviously attempted to charge forward, and was now being restrained by T-Dog.

Rick stepped around the pair. "Let the girl go, and we'll let you live."

"Ha!" Blake chortled, still pressed against my back. "If you think I'm going to fall for that, then you have another thing coming."

"I don't care what you think, but know this," the leader narrowed his eyes, moving forward with the same ferocity I had seen a month ago when he threatened me. Only this time, it was darker. "If you hurt her in any way, I'll kill you. Now that, is a promise you can believe."

Blake considered the leader's words closely. I could feel his entire body tensed and ready for action, obviously realising the seriousness of Rick's threat. You'd have to be an idiot not to see the callousness of the leader's glare. He wasn't in the mood for games, and if Blake didn't do as he said, there would be hell to pay.

Finally, after what felt like hours of an intense staring contest, Blake loosened his hold on me, but didn't let go altogether. "I want your word you wont harm my men and I."

Rick grunted in annoyance and then nodded. "You have it."

"Good," was all Blake said and then he suddenly hauled me to my feet with his iron-like fists. I wobbled, the nausea quickly rising in the pit of my stomach. Blake held my frail body tight. "Then you'll release them to me now, and I'll hand over the girl."

"Like fuck ya will," Daryl glared daggers, pushing against T-Dog's arms. "Don' trust 'im, Rick. He ain't gon give er' up that easy."

This only furthered Blake's amusement.

"Such a cynical little pet you have there," I scowled at his choice of words, refraining from shaking out of his hold. It seemed Daryl was doing enough of that already, Blake's words causing him to let out a series of insults. "But I make no compromises. Either you release my men, or I'll slit her throat. Right here, right now. Makes no difference to me if I die," he chuckled, allowing one of his hands to trail down the side of my cheek to the base of my throat. There, he gripped me tighter. "At least the bitch would be dead."

"Enough!"

Michonne shocked everyone by stepping around Rick's fuming stature, and slowly approached Blake and I. Her eyes locked with mine briefly and for a moment I was stunned at the calmness of her approach. She paused only a metre away, face free of all emotion. Blake clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Should've known you were involved in all of this, Michonne," he took a step back, dragging me with him. "You were always so chummy with the Boss."

"Haven't you had enough, Blake?" She remained stoic. "Half our men are dead now because of all that you have done."

He snorted. "I wasn't the one who lied."

"No, you weren't. But you've continued this mutiny for far to long. And it's about time we ended it now, before more people get hurt."

"This bitch deserves to pay for what she did," he grunted through clenched teeth. "She blew up three of our vehicles, tried to escape twice, and to top it all off she killed one of my closest comrades. I don't care what any of you think. We deserve our revenge."

Michonne remained impassive, clutching the hilt of her sword tightly. My heart hammered in my chest, wondering what she would say next, how would she convince Blake to back down?

She can't, Bitchy Morgan's voice came to me. No one can stop this lunatic.

Michonne's voice was even when she finally stepped forward to answer. "But is her death truly worth the death of all these men, of you?"

Blake hesitated for the first time since Rick and the others had arrived. His entire body stiffened and he clutched me a little tighter than I wanted, but I was hardly in a position to say anything. Instead, I tried to look over Michonne's shoulder and glimpse Rick's reaction. He was still contemplative, but there was wariness in his eyes, reaffirmed when he stepped up to Michonne's side with his own stoic stance.

"Let the girl go and we'll let you leave with your men," he growled, much to Daryl's disappointment. "There's no need for any more people to die today."

"You seem pretty certain about that, and I don't even know who you are."

Rick scowled. "It doesn't matter who we are. All that matters is that you let her go now. And then we'll be on our way."

"Please, Blake," Michonne pleaded. "Don't let anymore blood spill."

Instead of answering, Blake brought me back to his chest, his foul stench overwhelming me as I trembled in his hands. He hummed in amusement, licking and biting the side of my neck. I knew his game however. It was obvious he was trying to aggravate Rick and the others. Blake wanted them to attack, to give him a reason for slitting my throat. I desperately clung onto the arm that enfolded my neck and looked determinedly across the distance.

Please don't react. Please don't react.

Rick locked eyes with me first, holding his pistol in a death-like grip. He looked ready to kill, which was surprising for him, considering I wouldn't have pegged him for a rescue mission. I knew we had come to an understanding in recent days, but there was still a hint of suspicion in his eyes every now and again. But now, any earlier doubts I may have had were wiped clear as was evident by the hardened look in his eyes. He trusted me, and I trusted that I was one of his people now.

With a slow shake of my head, I urged the leader not to fall for Blake's tricks. He was only trying to bait them. But my attempts proved fruitless when Rick grunted out his annoyance and instead of looking at me, he glared daggers at Blake.

Glenn and Dale were much the same. They were both outraged by what they saw and the heated rage that flowed from Rick seemed only to fuel their hatred further. Neither one would make eye contact with me. And T-Dog was already locked in his own fierce battle with Daryl, his back turned to us.

Shit.

I didn't want to look at the arrow man, but I knew there was no point denying the heartache. They were going to incite another battle if Blake baited them in. And I wasn't going to let that happen. I had to warn Daryl. I had to tell him to back down before it was too late.

Daryl didn't notice me staring at him straight away. He was too busy glowering at Blake, and trying to shake free from T-Dog's large arms. Please, I urged. Please don't do this Daryl. I stared and stared for what felt like hours, meanwhile Blake continued to whisper deadly threats in my ear, pretending to ponder Michonne's words carefully. This only drove Daryl into another raging fit, and I could see him reach for the knife on his belt.

No, no, no.

And then he suddenly locked eyes with me.

I didn't have time to prepare myself for the full intensity of Daryl's gaze, too concerned with trying to distract him from doing anything stupid. But from the moment his bright blue eyes locked with mine I was lost. He completely held me captive with the fierceness of his distress. I wanted to reassure him, to get him to think about anything other than what Blake was going, but I couldn't distract myself from the heady sensation his eyes brought. It was the most comfort I had felt in the past twelve hours, and I welcomed the sensation, filling me with courage and fire. It was exactly what I needed, and I didn't pretend to be ashamed of my blatant staring. I was so glad to see him, to see all of–

"Hmm," Blake hummed in my ear, distracting my thoughts. "This is very tempting. Save my men, or kill you." He trailed his gun over my shoulders and rested it at my waist. I tilted my head away from him, ignoring the feel of his other hand gripping my breasts lightly. "What to do, what to do?"

"Alright," the leader's voice called out. All within the campsite locked eyes on him. "We'll let your men go," he nodded to Glenn and Dale. "And then you give us the girl."

"Oh," Blake chuckled in my ear. "They do care."

Slowly, Dale and Glenn released the remaining four men. Of the group, I recognised Martinez, the guy who had tried to help me back in Woodbury. He locked eyes with me and I could see the remorse in his heavy gaze. I defiantly turned away from him. Michonne continued to stand in the centre, acting as some kind of hostage negotiator. She looked to Blake with a new kind of fierceness in her eyes, not one to be trifled with.

"Now, let the girl go."

Rick and the others had their weapons raised at us, firmly trained on the men who still held me captive. I didn't want to celebrate too early, not until I was certain we were all safe in the prison once more.

Blake hesitated, and for a moment I thought he would defy them and blow my brains out. I knew he wanted to, I could feel it in the tautness of his shoulders. He wanted to kill me; I knew it.

Surprising everyone, Blake loosened his hold, and waited until I was able to stand on my own properly before he let go. My arms replaced his, and I covered my exposed breasts. Staggering towards Michonne, I fought the tension in the air as I made the few, but necessary steps towards her. She was waiting patiently, looking over my shoulder momentarily before enveloping me into her warm hold.

"It's okay," she breathed, sensing my relief. "I've got you."

Slowly, we made our way towards the others where I was surprised to see Charlie and Reece standing with them, the former leaning against Glenn for support. Charlie's eyes were barely open from the smattering of bruises and blood across his face, but I smiled at the obvious relief in his stature. Rick met us half way.

"Emma," he croaked, eyeing over my dismal state. He opened his mouth to say something further, but I shook my head.

"Let's just put some distance between us and these fuckers," Michonne spoke for me, and I was glad she had, as it was exactly what I had been thinking.

Rick nodded once and motioned for the others to stay together, his eyes firmly trained on the group of men in the distance. I braved a look back at them, sensing their eyes on us. Blake was in the same position as before, his eyes calculating our slow retreat. He offered Charlie and Rick a glare, his sea-green eyes narrowed dangerously. But when he finally tore his gaze away from them and locked eyes with me, a large smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

This isn't over, it read.

"C'mon," Michonne tugged me after T-Dog, who was leading the way. "Let's go."

I allowed her to pull me into the woods, barely registering her hushed words as the world swayed. Now that the exhilaration of all that had happened was over, I couldn't help the flow of exhaustion wash through me. Although Michonne had a firm hold on my elbow, it wasn't enough to keep me from stumbling over the root of a tree and falling to the ground.

Well, it would have been the ground, if a pair of strong and familiar hands didn't scoop me up into his hold before I could hit it.

"Em," the arrow man pulled me into his arms and I breathed in his Earthy scent, allowing it to fill my nostrils. Oh. This is exactly what I needed. I shivered in delight and pressed closer, sinking forward into his safe arms. Thinking I was cold, Daryl plucked me off the ground altogether and held me closer to his warm chest. My eyes fluttered close with the last glimpse of sunlight streaming through the tall trees. I could deny the exhaustion no longer, and so surrendered myself to the dark clutches of sleep, feeling safe in the arms of the man I trusted with all my heart.

"Do you think I could have been a bird in another life?"

Carl looked over at his blonde friend with a confused rise of his brows. They were in the grass compound again, lying on their backs and looking up at the sky. It would soon be midday and the Prison was supposed to be on lockdown, but with everything that was happening, the adults didn't have the time or the energy to keep an eye on the children. Carl had considered his actions foolish, especially since the leader would likely return and find them out there at any moment, but one look at Sophia's depressed state and Carl knew he had to distract her somehow. Although he hated this particular pastime, Sophia loved to look up at the blue skies and point out weirdly shaped clouds–something they hadn't done since their days at the Greene Farm.

"I don't know Soph," Carl shrugged his shoulders and resumed his earlier position, looking up at the sky. They were lying in opposite directions, with Sophia's little head nestled beside him. He could feel her frown, and refrained from smirking knowingly.

"I think I could of," she continued as if Carl hadn't spoken. "You know, like reincarnation. Mama used to talk about it all the time with her friends. She said that she was sure she was a movie star or famous recording artist in another life."

"That makes no sense," he laughed. "How would anyone know?"

"You just feel it silly."

"And how am I supposed to feel it? I don't feel anything like that."

"In here," she ignored his chuckling and sat up. Her tiny hand suddenly pressed against his chest where his heart was beating rapidly at the earnest look in her eyes. "This is where I feel it, right here, right where my heart beats."

Carl stared at her for a long while, blonde hair highlighted by the glow of midday sun. She was beautiful, but even more so now that she hovered over him, a sense of innocence about her. Sophia's entire world lit up with those gorgeous sea-green eyes, and instinctively he pulled her closer, sitting up.

She blushed as he studied her fingers closely, eyeing the array of cuts and dirt over them. They weren't the prettiest things in the world, but for some reason Carl loved that about her. She was real.

His eyes flickered up and met hers."Soph?"

"Yeah?" She trembled, stunned by the tender caress of his hands over hers. Her sea-green eyes never moved from his grey ones.

"You're my best friend," he began, watching her closely. "But…"

"But?"

"But," Carl cleared his throat, inching forward. "I think–"

The sounds of an engine roaring up the gravel path cut him off.

Carl jumped to action, pulling Sophia up with him and looking out at the approaching vehicle. They were back. Wasting no time, Carl quickly pulled Sophia after him and they raced to the inner compound. He understood that they needed to act fast, as was clear in the urgency of the vehicle racing towards them, and warn Hershel of the other's arrival. Urging Sophia to find Hershel, Carl ran back to the entryway to help Patricia and Maggie with the gate.

His weapon was in hand in case they should need it, but Maggie quickly jumped to action, using her machete to slay the walkers that strayed near. Without further delay, the vehicle rushed inside and didn't stop until they were parked at the inner compound.

"You think they're okay?" Patricia asked Maggie as all three of them jogged up to the inner compound. The Greene daughter merely shrugged, hurrying towards the group filing out of the vehicle.

Maggie was the first to approach, and suddenly stalled, gasping aloud at the sight before her. Carl ducked around her still body and thinking something was wrong, he quickly searched around for his father.

Relief flooded through him when he found the leader issuing rapid orders to the rest of the group, whom Carl was further relieved to find, were all okay. In fact, there were three new additions. The first was a tall, burly man, twice the size of T-Dog. He stood close to the woman named, Michonne, and Carl figured he was a comrade of hers. The second man shocked Carl at the sight of his bloodied face and beaten body. He was barely distinguishable by his looks, but Carl figured this to be Emma's brother Charlie, as was obvious by his dark eyes and dark hair, a family trait no doubt. The last person to come into view lay unconscious in Daryl's arms. Her frail body was pale and covered in an assortment of cuts and bruises; blood flowed from a wound at her torso and dripped onto the concrete ground. She looked the picture of death, pressed up against the arrow man's broad chest. But what furthered Carl's astonishment was the fact that she only wore Daryl's leather vest jacket. The boy couldn't even begin to contemplate why she was wearing it, and was glad when Sophia, Lori and Carol appeared with Hershel in the doorway. The older man took one look at the sight before him, and quickly urged Daryl to bring Emma's unconscious form into the cellblock. Rick and the others followed with Emma's brother and his comrades in tow.

Only Carl remained, staring at the fresh spots of blood on the concrete ground. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Although Michonne had talked of her group's likelihood to torture Emma, he never believed in his wildest dreams that something like this could happen to another human being. A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his trance-like state and he thankfully looked up into familiar sea-green eyes.

"Oh Soph," he collapsed into her, bringing her tiny body to him and wrapping his arms around her small waist. She didn't even hesitate, pressing her face into his shirt and whimpering slightly. The smell of her golden hair filled his nostrils as they stood, embracing each other.

"I can't believe… Poor Emma," she breathed into Carl's collar. "That was… That was horrible, Carl. She must've been so afraid."

All the boy could do was hold her close, his astonishment at finding Emma in such a broken state had shocked him to his very core. And he couldn't help but imagine the other women he knew, falling victim to such a crime. Maggie, his mother, Carol, and lastly Sophia came to mind.

No, he squeezed his eyes closed and pressed her closer to him. Not Sophie. Not her. Please, not her.

Carl vowed in that moment that he would never let anything happen to Sophia. Not while he still lived.

Fire.

It burned everywhere, and from its depths a pair of haunting eyes loomed over me. I struggled, retrained by an unknown force, as the eyes took form and a dark figure emerged from the flames surrounding me, looking like a God in all his glory. The restraints disappeared and suddenly the God held me by my throat, sucking up all the air. I gasped, clawing at his hand and pleading for him to let me go. He chuckled; the sound caused shivers to run down my spine despite the heat surrounding us. As I continued to struggle, his face loomed towards me, and in the light of flickering flames I recognised who it was.

Blake.

"Emma?"

His fingers hovered over the contours of my face, lulling me deeper into the darkness. I kicked and screamed, willing with all my strength to fight him. Determination settled deep within my core, and for a moment we struggled.

"Emma, wake up!"

The moment his fingers touched the nape of my neck, I screamed. Pain shot out from where he held me and I blindly shoved at his face in an attempt to stop the torture, but it only made things worse.

"It's okay," a voice called to me from the dark recesses of my dream. "Ya safe. I ain't gon let anyone hurt ya… Wake up."

With furrowed brows, I turned towards the sound, but Blake's arm enclosed around my waist, making it difficult to block out the searing pain that burst throughout my entire being. I couldn't concentrate. I could only stand there, falling victim to the God's misery.

"Wake up," the voice commanded once again. This time I felt strong hands around my shoulders. Its touch didn't bring a searing pain, but rather a comforting warmness that caused shudders of recognition to roll through me. "Emma, wake up."

Blake chuckled at my confused state, his fiery arms tightening their hold. "You will never escape me," his stone-like voice taunted. "I will always be in the shadows. Waiting for you."

"Emma…I'm here…"

That voice.

"…I ain't gon let anything happen to you…"

I knew that voice.

An Earthy scent suddenly overwhelmed my senses.

Daryl?

"…Please, Em…Wake up…"

Daryl! I'm here. I'm here too.

"…Wake up…"

Help me!

"Wake up!"

With one last glance at Blake's dark eyes, I tore myself away from his fiery clutches and concentrated entirely on the arrow man's calming voice. Wake up, he willed. And so I did. Tuning into my new surroundings, I felt the softness of the bed beneath me, the stiffness of clean sheets tangled about my legs, the dampness of my shirt from earlier exertions, the warmness of familiar arms wrapped firmly around my waist and securing the nape of my neck, the calming gesture of a callous thumb as it traced circles just below my earlobe, and lastly, the soothing voice of the man I trusted, reassuring me with gentle words.

I gasped awake.

My eyes blinked rapidly as I slowly took in the sight of blue eyes, reassuring me with such intensity that it was almost too much to bare witness.

"Daryl," I breathed, instinctively pulling him closer. His hands tightened around me, allowing the contact he would have usually detested. "Oh, Daryl…I saw him…I saw Blake. He had me…He was going to... We have to get out of here. We have to run before he finds us again… I… I don't want to go back there–"

"–Stop that, girl. Ya safe. It's safe," he murmured softly into my hair, and then pulling away, he grasped my face between his hands and his powerful look returned. "Ya safe at the Prison. He ain't gon hurt ya now. I promise."

The Prison?

Opening my eyes wider, and ridding the last images of Blake's fiery form, I sat up a little and took in my grey surroundings. Sure enough, I was in one of the Prison's familiar three-walled cells, which, at a closer look, appeared to be Hershel's makeshift infirmary. The sun streamed through large windows across from me and I was forced to squint until my eyes adjusted to the bright light.

"Safe," I whispered more to myself than anyone, tears welling at the corners of my eyes. "We made it back."

This had to be a trick. I couldn't have possibly made it all the way back to the prison without Blake stopping us. He was here, somewhere. Waiting in the shadows like he said he would be. It was going to be any moment now. Blake would come. He would find us. And then he'd drag me back to the clearing. Back to the darkness.

"Emma," the arrow man's voice pulled me from a mild panic attack, and I found he was still holding my face in his large hands, eyes burning into mine. Rather than pull away like I expected, he pulled me closer. "I ain't gon let him hurt ya. Ya safe. We're safe."

I was safe.

We had made it back.

It was over.

I slumped forward, clutching his hands tightly and dropping my head into his chest. "Daryl," was all I could whimper before the tears started.

Although I knew it probably pained him to be this close to someone, I didn't care. I needed him right now. I needed it all. Only his touch could replace the images in my mind that played over and over again. He was the only one I trusted enough to be this close to me. Ignoring the pain that huddling in this position caused, I snuggled up to the arrow man, allowing his arms to drape around my tiny waist and pull me closer. Where being touched by the group of men had felt wrong, Daryl's touch only brought warmth and light. I fit perfectly into his chest, melding my body against his. We stayed that way for a long time until my eyes could cry no more, and the realisation of all that I had been through, wasn't so shocking.

"Sorry," I pulled away first, wiping my eyes and offering a lame shrug.

Daryl didn't instantly move away like I expected him to, but rather, he continued holding me in his arms and watching me with the same worried look in my eyes. "Don't gotta be sorry, girl."

"You saved me," I ordered my thoughts, recalling Daryl and the others coming to my recue. "You all did. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Ain't gotta thank me girl," he offered his lopsided smile, the one that made my heart melt. "I'm just glad ya okay."

I couldn't acknowledge him, because in truth, I didn't know if I was okay. After everything that happened, I knew it was going to taint me for the rest of my life. But Daryl didn't need to know that. Not while he was here, comforting me. So instead, I merely nodded and pulled his hands from my waist to intertwine with my own. They were callous to the touch and almost twice the size of mine, but they were also familiar and also, very warm.

"Thank you," I gripped his hands tight and flicked my gaze up to meet his, urging him to understand how much I meant those two words. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you came back."

"It was nothin, girl."

I shook my head, squeezing tighter. "It was. You risked your life. All of you did. So I mean it," and then I leant forward, my face inches from his. "Thank you."

He stiffened, noting how close I was to his lips. His entire body went rigid, with tension rolling down his spine. Our breathing combined, shallow and sharp against each other's faces. As much as I could have kissed him right then, I knew it wouldn't be wise. Not before we talked things through. So with much reluctance, I pulled away and let go of his hands.

"I should get Hershel and Rick," he grunted, and jumped to his feet, preparing to leave. I couldn't help the downturn of my lips as they pulled into a childish pout. The arrow man squinted his eyes in amusement and his hand reached out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. It lingered momentarily against my cheek, and I relaxed, closing my eyes. "I'll be righ' back," was all he said and he turned on his heel and left.

I slumped back into my bed feeling slightly dejected.

It was cold without his touch, the grey concrete walls doing nothing to stop the shivers running down my spine. It took me a while to realise that I was drenched in sweat, which was why the sudden breeze that flitted through the room, caused goose bumps to erupt over my legs and arms. I gazed around the cell, committing each detail to memory. Before, I had overlooked the simple stonewalls as nothing more than a prison, but now, it felt like so much more.

It was then, while gazing around the room, that I noticed the sleeping form next to me.

Andrea.

My head swam at the sight of her, and tears suddenly filled my eyes. She was safe. Biting through the pain in my torso, I twisted as best I could to view her slumbering form better. She was sporting a dark bruise along her upper brow and there was a gash on her forearm. Apart from that however, she looked fine. In fact, she looked peaceful. Propping myself against the concrete wall, I winced as a burst of pain shot down my right side.

"Careful," a voice drawled from the doorway. "You shouldn't be moving around too much."

Rick and Hershel appeared, smiling as they watched me, brows slightly furrowed with concern. Daryl was right behind them, but rather than enter like the other two, he kept his distance and leaned casually against the cellblock door, watching me with guarded eyes. Tearing my gaze away from his, I couldn't help but return a small smile as, Rick and Hershel approached.

"Rick," my voice cracked and I attempted to sit up further. "Thank you. Thank you so much for everything. I can't… I can't… You have no idea how grateful I am…"

"You don't need to thank us," the leader moved forward, patting my arm in reassurance as he slumped into the seat beside my cot with the same steady smile. "I'm just glad you made it through this."

The touch of softness in his voice surprised me, and I was even more surprised to see that he genuinely meant his words. I nodded in his direction, glad for his and Hershel's warming company after all that I had been through.

Safe. I was finally safe.

"I'm glad you're awake. We were a bit worried there for a moment." Hershel drawled, and I looked to him just as he produced a bottle of water. "You must be thirsty." I practically lurched toward him, ignoring the pain in my torso and gripping the plastic bottle greedily in my hands. "Slowly," the old man chastised. "Take sips. You haven't eaten anything in two days."

Feeling slightly embarrassed, I conceded to his instructions and took three tentative sips. It was pure heaven. Taking another three, I noticed the three men were watching me closely; eyes firm yet managing to look soft in the same instance. When I had downed half the bottle's contents, resting back against the concrete wall, I could bare their silence no longer.

"So, how long have I been out?"

"Only a day," Hershel answered, seeming more than a little relived. "You sustained a lot of injuries. A few bruised ribs across your right side, mild spraining over your nose and right cheek, and a few cuts and bruises here and there, but nothing I couldn't handle. You might experience some nausea or dizziness for the next few days, but that's to be expected because of the painkillers. Other then that, I expect you to make a full recovery within a few weeks time."

Although he smiled, I could see the crease of his brows as he carefully studied my wounds. It indicated three things. One, I was more savagely beaten than I had initially thought and therefore resembled a pulped watermelon. Two, Hershel had a headache. Three, he secretly discovered gamma radiation in my blood and was trying to figure out how best to break the news.

I secretly hoped for option three, but already knew my answer.

"I must look pretty awful," I laughed, as my hand instinctively went to touch one of the bruises I felt at my neck. Biting through my pain, I pretended to act as if the sensation didn't hurt me and slowly travelled along the underside of my right eye and across to my nose. Fuck. That hurt. The three men were silent as I continued to feel for bruises, hoping they wouldn't see right through my bravado act. "Well," I clapped my hands together. "At least it isn't all that bad."

From the doorway I heard Daryl cuss under his breath, but I refused to meet his knowing eyes. He saw through my bullshit.

Shit.

Rick however, wasn't so easy to avoid. He scowled at me. "You were pretty messed up, Emma. I'm not going to lie. If we hadn't gotten you here in time, you probably wouldn't have made it. And though there won't be any permanent physical damage, I'm sure there are other injuries we can't see."

My eyes shot to the bottle in my hands.

He didn't need to say it out loud; the somewhat awkward tension that settled over us spoke loudly enough. I drew my hands around myself; glad I was wearing a shirt now. But I knew what it felt like not to have one on and be surrounded by a group of leering men. I was humiliated and ashamed of being found in that state, and what made it even worse were the pitying looks in Rick's eyes now. It made what happened, real. And I hated to be reminded of that night. I wanted nothing more than to forget it.

Noticing the fear in my eyes, Hershel approached first. "We don't have to talk about it now, m'dear," I practically sagged in relief. "I'm sorry. This must be a lot to take in."

"Not really," I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and then forced a smile in return. Daryl didn't look convinced. "I… well… As you know…Things…Happened… Bad things."

"Emma," this was Rick. He leaned forward and placed his hand over mine. "Don't feel pressured into saying something you don't want to. We understand if you need to take your time."

I watched him closely, noting the sincerity in his eyes. Hershel appeared much the same, eyes squinting at the sides with a knowing look. They were both earnest and sincere, comforting me in their own way. But there was only one person's opinion that truly mattered right now, and I looked up at him to search for my answer. He remained stoic, arms folded, leaning against the entryway in the same fashion as he had the first night of my interrogation, a month ago. I should have already realised my answer before looking up at him. Daryl wasn't going to push me, just like Rick and Hershel wouldn't. They would be patient and give me time, and I was more than grateful.

"Thank you," I stammered out, meeting Rick's gaze again. "I'm sorry I c-c-can't talk about it. You probably need information."

"It can wait. However, there are some other things that I would like to discuss with you. But first," a kind smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "I've had better days."

"Yes, I'm sure you have," and then with a furrow of his brows, he leant forward and examined my many cuts and bruises. I tensed under his scrutiny, feeling oddly self-conscious. At last, after what felt like hours of staring, he tilted back in his seat and gave Hershel a long, measuring look before meeting my gaze once more. He was no longer smiling. "Emma," his voice croaked. "I wanted to be the first to apologise for what happened out there–"

"–It wasn't your fault," I attempted a small smile of my own, but I could feel that it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Anyway, I really should be thanking you lot for risking your lives to come and rescue me. I'll be honest… I didn't think you would come. Not that I expected you to, in fact, you could say I was… Pleasantly surprised."

Daryl grunted noisily from the doorway, but Rick ignored him. "We deliberated whether a rescue mission should take place beforehand. There was much to decide, and Michonne told us many things." He paused before continuing. "I only wished we had come sooner."

"You had the group to think about," I understood what the leader's hesitation might have been. He wasn't about to risk the lives of his group members until they had talked over all the details. I couldn't hate him for that. He was doing his job and protecting the ones he cared about. "I understand," was all that needed to be said, and then I met Hershel's stoic gaze and couldn't help the quirk of my lips. "I know you told me not to get into any trouble, but I guess I couldn't help myself. Sorry for the mess, Doc."

He smiled fondly, though there was a touch of sadness to his eyes. "I am very grateful for what you did m'dear. And I know Maggie is too. You sacrificed yourself to save Glenn, Andrea and Daryl, and I know we'll all be in your debt."

"It really wasn't anything."

"Oh," his old eyes twinkled. "I beg to differ."

A full smile replaced my half one and I was suddenly overwhelmed with the certain look he gave me. It replaced all the fear I had bottled up inside with hope and joy.

Rick cleared his throat to gather our attention once more. "Well now that we've got all of that out of the way, I'm afraid I have to talk with you about that other business."

"Can't it wait, Rick?" Hershel scanned over my many wounds. "She's still recovering and needs rest."

"I'll be fine, Doc." I nodded my thanks for his concern and then locked eyes with Rick, already sensing the seriousness of his tone. "And anyway, I think what Rick has to say is important, otherwise he wouldn't have brought it up."

"Sometimes," the leader wrinkled his brows in amusement. "I think you know me better than I know myself."

I merely shrugged my shoulders.

Hershel, a worried look in his eyes, finally conceded with a wave of his hand, and went to take the bottle of water from me before taking the remaining seat next to Rick.

"Emma," the leader began. "I know you're still recovering and I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do, but we need to discuss… your brother."

Charlie.

I had forgotten about him, too wrapped up in my own personal drama to even spare a thought. Judging by my obvious widening of the eyes, Rick was quick to reassure me that everything was okay.

"Hershel saw to his wounds and he's making good recovery. For safety reasons only, I locked him, Michonne and Tyreece in Cellblock B. I wanted to talk to you before we made any permanent decisions."

Tyreece? I furrowed my brows. Ty-Reece. Reece? Oh. A smile replaced my frown, and I was glad he had made it out alive, recalling how he had helped me to escape. Although I still considered him a coward, I knew he was a hell of a lot better than the men who tried to rape me.

"I know you probably haven't thought about it," Rick continued. "But I need to know if you trust them." My eyes widened. "He's your brother, and you've just found each other, but if I let them stay here, I need to be sure that they are going to work with us. I know you haven't seen him in a long time, and I know what happened between the two of you in New Orleans," he exhaled calmly. "But if you say that we can trust him, then we will. You're a part of this group now Emma. And you have every right to offer your input."

His words surprised me.

I was a part of their group. They trusted me now, as one of their own. I didn't think I could ever feel this relieved in my life, but boy was I wrong. It felt good to be a part of a family again. It felt like home. And now that Charlie was here, it made everything better.

But could I trust him?

Rick was right. I hadn't seen my brother in over eight months. I'd already had a chance to see what he was like at the clearing. Though there were obvious signs of a darkness haunting him, I knew it was nothing compared to Blake and the other men. But leaving me behind in New Orleans still troubled him. He didn't have to say anything; it was there, in his eyes. And though I didn't believe he would ever harm anyone here, I also knew that Rick would want to take some precautions to be sure that the others remained safe.

"Charlie would never hurt anyone, and even though I haven't met the other two, I think we can trust them." Rick nodded at my resolve. "With that being said, I do think we should keep them locked up until he's properly healed. I'll talk to him, all of them, find out what they think about the arrangements. And I'd like to know what the others think too. Even though he's my brother, I understand if they'd be a little hesitant to let him stay."

Hershel smiled at that. "If you say we can trust them m'dear, then I believe you. Besides, they haven't caused us any harm, and have been compliant with our orders so far. They do wish to see you, but I told them you needed some time to rest first. When you've healed properly, we'll sort this all out. "

"And the others all agree that they should stay," Rick quickly interjected. "At least until you've recovered and we can talk to them and offer them our terms."

I couldn't help but smile. "You mean the terms you told me when I first arrived?"

"Yes."

"Well I hope they don't get frightened away."

Rick merely chuckled, and taking that as his cue, Hershel quickly ushered him out to give me some time to rest. Although there were a million things I wanted to ask them, I knew the old man was right. I'd been through hell and back these past couple of days, and my body acted of its own accord, practically falling into the warm sheets beneath me.

At the entranceway, Hershel exchanged a quick word with Daryl while Rick paused and offered one last smile over his shoulder. His gaze then flickered to Andrea beside me and it faltered.

"She hasn't woken up yet, has she?" I guessed the tension in his stature and was awarded a stiff nod. "What's wrong with her?"

"We think it's internal," his eyes tightened at the corners, as if suppressing tears. "But I guess only time will tell."

I looked between them a moment, and then spoke. "She's going to wake up, Rick. You and I both know she's a fighter. Andrea won't go out unless she's ready."

For a moment he continued to stare at her, a mixture of emotions flickering across his grey eyes. Then, as if nothing had occurred he turned to me with a quirk of his lips. "Get some rest. We'll talk more later."

"Thank you," I whispered, an overwhelming mixture of relief suddenly spreading through me. "For everything."

He shrugged in a 'what are you going to do' manner.

Watching as Hershel and Rick departed, I waited patiently for Daryl to re-enter my temporary cell. His eyes studied me closely as he took Rick's abandoned chair and propped one of his heavy boots against the metal base of my cot.

"Well," I breathed, rolling onto my side and smiling up at him. "That was interesting."

"Rick's been worried bout ya. They all have." He chewed his thumbnail, leaning back into his chair. "No one's slept since ya got back. We all thought ya wouldn' make it."

For the first time since waking, I took the time to study Daryl closely. He still appeared very much his usual self, hard frown in place, shaggy hair, and slightly tanned skinned. But now, he looked tired and drawn. Faded bruises traced along his jaw and cheek, and there were dark circles under his eyes. I wondered how long it had been since he last slept. Judging by the slightly dazed look in his eyes, I could tell it had been a while.

"You should get some sleep," I peered up at him intently. "It's been a long day for everyone. I'll be okay here."

He continued to watch me, blue eyes equally as intent. "I'm good."

"Ace," I smiled, fighting a yawn. "You're tired. Go. Get some rest."

"I'm good."

"You don't look good. You look tired," I whispered, but exhaustion suddenly pulled from the back of my shoulders and I couldn't help the yawn that came this time. He held back a smile of his own. "Don't laugh," I pretended to be outraged, but looked rather ridiculous when my eyes kept lulling shut. "I'm not tired. You're tired. Go. Get some sleep."

"Shh," he smiled and surprised me by leaning forward, and placing a gentle kiss above my brow. "Sleep."

Damn him.

My eyes fluttered closed of their own accord and I relaxed into a warm and blissful slumber. The last image I had wasn't, of sea-green eyes that tormented my very being, but rather, they were of bright blue and it was the most comforting sight I'd ever beheld.

"Emma woke up."

Maggie entered the cell her boyfriend had slept in for the past few weeks, eyeing him carefully. He lounged across his cot, one legged propped up and an elbow resting atop it. She almost smiled at the seemingly ordinary view, moving to lean against the wall opposite him.

"That's a relief," he dragged a hand over his face and sat up. "I was worried."

"Daddy said she's acting like her old self again. Guess that's a good sign."

"Does Daryl know?"

She nodded. "He's with her now. Hasn't left her side since you lot got back. At least he'll be able to get some rest knowing she's alright."

Silence passed between them.

The Greene daughter stared at the ground throughout the quiet moment, thinking about a number of things, but mostly of Emma's arrival. It had shocked her to her very core seeing the woman in such a tormented state. She couldn't even find the words. No one could.

After Rick and the others deposited her in Hershel's cell, a thick tension hung over the prison. Nobody moved or made any attempts to speak. Only those who were on guard shifts at the time did anything, the rest merely stood, sat, rested, ate and loomed near while they waited for news. Maggie was glad that Glenn and the others had returned without difficulty, but the moment was only short lived as everyone waited to hear news on Emma's welfare. And it didn't help that everyone knew, by the state of her arrival, what had happened.

T-Dog, with the help of Dale, briefly informed everyone of the mission that night. There wasn't much of a struggle as they stormed the campsite to find Emma and her brother beaten and half-dead. Dale talked briefly of the leader named Blake and his men, describing them as savages. From the little information they gave after that, and their obvious looks of disgust, Maggie was able to determine what could have possibly been Emma's fate, had the others not rescued her.

She didn't sleep a wink that night, like she hadn't the night before. But sleep was becoming nothing more than a distant memory for the Greene daughter with the latest developments. She had other issues to deal with. Aside from Emma's welfare, there was the matter of Lori and Andrea. As much as Maggie detested to be a part of other people's drama, she couldn't help but compare Lori's situation with Rick, to her own with Glenn. Maggie didn't consider hers and Glenn's relationship as complicated as what Lori was going through, but there was definitely tension there, and she knew it all too well.

Maggie tried, she fought every urge there was, but she couldn't keep from comparing herself to Lori.

It was stupid and irrelevant, and it should have been the last thing on her mind, but nonetheless Maggie couldn't shake the feeling. She didn't despise Lori. In fact, they had long since determined a casual friendship between themselves. And though it wasn't anything near best friends, they still trusted each other. So how could she not compare their situations?

Lori also suffered from problems with her partner, and though Maggie and Glenn had their disagreements, she couldn't help but notice how Glenn often seemed aloof and distant, similarities he shared with the leader. Glenn wasn't purposefully trying to hurt her though, she knew that he loved her, he was just angry at the fact that he had almost lost her.

Only now, Maggie didn't want to fight anymore. She wanted her boyfriend back.

"Are you going to stand over there all night?"

Maggie looked up and met Glenn's heavy gaze. Without a word, she pushed off the wall and slowly approached, sitting carefully beside him. Another few moments passed before he spoke again.

"You okay, Mag's?"

She could only nod.

"Are you sure?"

Another nod.

"Well," he appeared amused. "I don't think you are. Unless you've gone mute since the last time I saw you."

Finally, she spoke. "No. I'm not mute."

"You sure?"

Despite herself, she chuckled. This was the reason she loved him. He always could make her smile. "Yes I'm sure."

And then his hand slid across the small of her back and he pulled her closer into his side. "Good."

They stayed that way for a long moment. Maggie nestled into the crook of his neck, his head resting atop hers. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the hand she rested there. It felt so good to be in his arms again.

Unaware of the tears in her eyes, Maggie was surprised when Glenn suddenly shifted and pulled away. Thinking he would leave, she grasped his shirt in her fingers and tugged none too lightly on the fabric.

"Hey," he whispered softly against her forehead. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

Touching her cheeks, Maggie sat up in surprise, wiping the tears away as Glenn brought her closer. She looked up into his concerned face and felt an overwhelming mixture of emotions roll through her. And then she understood the tears, as they rolled out now in fat, streams.

"Mag's?"

She stammered. "I-I missed you."

Fearing he would pull away like he had done so often in the past two weeks, she was pleasantly surprised when he instead pulled her even closer. She was now practically sitting in his lap, and he showered her with kisses.

"Oh, baby," he groaned, wiping her tears away and holding her close. "I've missed you too."

But Maggie wasn't finished.

"Please," she whimpered into his chest. "Please forgive me. I don't want to spend another day in this ridiculous fight. I'm sorry. I know how much you care and I know how much it hurts you when I put myself in danger. I'm sorry," she pulled back, tears rolling freely now as she gripped either side of his face. "But I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to spend another day pretending that everything is okay when we know it isn't. So please, forgive me–"

"–Mag's–"

"–No, listen, please." Maggie straddled his legs and wound her arms around the back of his neck. He had no choice but to wrap his own arms around her waist to keep her from falling. She waited for her breathing to calm before continuing. "I'm an idiot, a selfish jerk. I don't listen to the rules and I act without thinking all the time." He tried to protest again, but she hushed him with her lips. The kiss was steamy and urgent, and it was over in an instant. They were both breathing harshly when she finally pulled away. "And I know you probably wont forgive me anytime soon, but I want you to. Because I want you, always, with me, by my side, like it's supposed to be." She dropped her forehead onto his. "I hate this distance between us," tears welled once more. "I hate that we aren't talking like we used to. I miss you, Glenn. I need you. I need you to forgive me. It's breaking my heart to see you pull away from me. And I can't handle it any more."

She kissed him then, like her life depended on it.

Her lips, eager with need, melded perfectly into his and she tightened her hold, unaware that he had also pulled her closer. She kissed him with a kind of desperation, after weeks of silent treatment; she yearned for the feel of his tongue meshing with her own. He groaned when Maggie deepened the sensuous torture by hungrily scattering kisses along his jaw and neck.

"Please," she said in between kisses, using her hands to run through his hair. Glenn squeezed his eyes close, trying to resist her body against his. "Please, forgive me, Glenn. Come back to me." She pushed him down onto the bed and returned her lips to his. They were both panting heavily now. "Come back to me. Please, forgive me."

It took all of Glenn's strength to pull away.

He placed both his hands against her chest and pushed, abruptly ending her heady kisses. For a moment Maggie kept her eyes closed, afraid at what she might find in his eyes. She didn't think she could take being rejected. But regardless, she slowly opened them and looked into the most gorgeous brown eyes she had ever witnessed. He took her breath away when his hand came up to caress her cheek.

"I love you," was all he said before he rolled her over into his bed and he showed her just how much he had yearned for her touch too.

The man crouched low in the forest shrubbery, his hands clutching a flask of bourbon securely. He unscrewed the cap and took a deep gulp. The others were waiting back at base, thinking he had run off to hunt for food. But he couldn't think about food now, not while he burned with heated rage. In the distance, his eyes settled on a familiar figure, tall and lean, walking towards the outer guard tower. A boy no older than thirteen trailed after him, laughing at a joke they shared.

Blake took another gulp of his bourbon, already feeling its burning effects, as he glared up at the Prison. He was going to enjoy tearing this place to the ground.

A/N: Okay, so I really don't know about this chapter. Some things I really liked, but there are others where I was kind of stuck on whether or not I should include them. What did you guys think?

Maybe we should start from the beginning...

Yikes! Blake is an ASSHOLE! And Wes! And Gavin! And everyone at that stupid clearing. It was a bit akjfb But I had to make Emma kind of go through that, just so you guys could see how strong she is. My fav line of hers was probably, 'you should have killed me when you had the chance.' TOTAL BADASS! and what did you guys think of Reece, or should I say TYREECE? For your clarification, he did set of the first explosion before Rick and the other came in guns blazing.

Now I know some of you wanted to see some action between Daryl, Rick and Charlie, but for now, this chapter was mostly focused on Emma. She's recovering still, so there wont be any SERIOUS conversation until the Doc has cleared her, which will be coming in the next chapter. But just so you know, she's going to be forced to make some tough decisions, so don't relax just yet, not all is well at the Prison.

How do you guys feel about Charlie and his comrades moving in with the prison crew? Love it? Hate it? Ugh, I'm so torn about whether I should make them leave or not. At least Rick isn't being TOO difficult. You'll have to wait and see what happens there.

another Carl and Sophia moment for those who love them. It was kind of a filler to see Rick and the others arrive. We won't see much of them in the next chapter, but there's also a storyline I intend on going with there too.

And lastly, Maggie and Glenn have finally made up. I felt like their drama needed to end because one, they love each other, and two, with everything that was happening it just didn't seem right for them to keep arguing. STUPID is the word I would have worked, but meh, what ya gonna do? I hope you didn't think Maggie was too whiny when she kept saying, please, please, please. If you can imagine, I actually wanted her to be kind of breathless, and lost in the moment. Her and Glenn haven't had, you-know-what, in a while so I tried to make her more like yearning as apposed to whiny!

uh.

Let me know what you think. Not my best chapter, but it was the best I could come up with. kbakjfqkf! BTW, did anyone else notice a little...Daryl/Emma moment? ;)

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm...

Stay awesome all you readers! xx

P.S I hopefully haven't offended anyone with the heaven talk at the beginning, or the whole 'RAPE' scene, but if I have, I SINCERELY apologise.