A/N: YAY! I LIVE! I'm finally back and I bring good news!

I might finally have a new schedule to work with.

No, this is not a promise. We've all seen how well I work with those. Sorry. And my normal schedule is already full with a shitload of stuff in the week. With school homework, drama club, AND actual work, and driving lessons, I hardly ever have time to write. But I'm trying to squeeze it in. That's why I have this beauty out on display (FINALLY!)

This is the season finale for season four. I have access to season five at home, so I need to get to work on that, butttt... I'm rewriting, "The World We Live In," first.

*Puts hands up in surrender* I know, I know. Not what you guys want to hear. But I was looking back at it, unhappy with what I saw, and decided it needed some polishing. So I'm gonna do that. But I already have the first two chappies rewritten, so hopefully it won't take up too much time. And when I mean rewriting, I mean that some scenes are completely changed around. Like who was Alyssa's first walker kill, or how she met Michonne. It's new, and hopefully improved. I hope you all like what I've done with it. All I need to do is upload them onto the site.

And before I forget, I uploaded the chapter differently today. So if anything is wrong with it viewing-wise, that's why!

We don't sleep through the night. Instead, we stay up, all of us, until the sun blares through the tree line.

Daryl and Carl look terrible. Most of the blows were at their stomachs, underneath their clothes. But their faces... Daryl has one eyes that is swollen almost completely shut. There are more bruises than cuts, but a fair amount of scarlet gashes adorn his features. Carl's wounds almost mirror that of Daryl's. One eye has become a nasty swollen purple, and blue and black bruises cover his face. The most prominent is one on his jawline, where it looks like the attacker just mercilessly beat him in that one spot until he was happy with his work.

Right now, Rick and Daryl are outside the truck keeping watch. Mom, Carl, and I are in the back, attempting to get some sleep. I can't.

"Honey, lie down." Mom says to me, and her hand lightly grasps my shoulder.

I shake my head vigorously. "I'm fine. I can stay up. You two rest."

"Alyssa, c'mon." Carl groans. "This is like the one chance we get to sleep. Take it." He, himself, lies down on the other seat, kicking his legs up and making a pillow with his hands.

I shake my head again, and tighten my grip on my knife. The blade is still a deep red and the hilt isn't much better. But, soon, it should dry and I can use it again. Holding it is just a precaution.

"Alyssa, we're gonna be fine." Mom tries to reason with me. "Daryl and Rick are outside. If anything happens then they'll take care of it."

"If anything else happens I want to take care of it too. We know there are other people out there. They could be just as bad. Or worse."

Mom sighs heavily and looks out the window.

"You know," she starts, "It doesn't help to be paranoid. Look how well that helped me."

I mutter incoherently under my breath. Her soft, chocolate brown eyes gaze at me. They aren't angry or patronizing. They are comforting. Understanding. So I sigh and scoot closer to her. She releases a breath and wraps an arm around my shaking shoulders. I breathe in the scent of her, soothing myself. Her hand on my shoulder pushes me down gently, to which I comply. Now, my head rests on her knees and my legs are kicked up on the other side of the seat.

Directly across from us sits Carl. His eyes meet my own and I give him an insecure smile.

I close my eyes, and her hand weaves through my hair slowly and softly. Another comfort. And I fall into a fitful sleep.

It was more of a nap than of actual sleeping. I woke myself up, and the group starts to continue on, Daryl included. I'm glad that our small group has finally grown a bit. Not by much, but still. It's a great addition.

Mom gets out of the car first. I stretch my arms above my head and crack my back a bit, and let out a satisfied sigh. Carl, in his seat, waits for me to get out.

I take a look at him. Not a small, little glimpse. I take a long, hard look at him. Search every feature on his face. Look through those dark blue eyes. They have hardened overnight.

Carl catches me looking at him. "What?" He demands. Even his voice had changed overnight. No longer is it the kind and playful drawl like it was just last morning. It is now rough and demanding. I don't like it.

Slowly, I move my hand to him. It reaches the hem of his shirt and pulls up, exposing some of his skin. Underneath, it is bruised. Mixes of blue and purple stare back at me, loud and strong. My hand glides very lightly over the marks, from his side to his stomach.

"You have them, too." He says softly, and I jerk my eyes back to his face. The comforting, light blue hue of his eyes returned, along with the quietness of his voice. I know it won't last, so I treasure the moment.

His hand, the one that isn't on the back of his gun, rests itself on my side. I sigh at the action. I move my eyes down, and see the damage that has been brought to my figure. Purple marks pepper my skin as well; the man's hands from last night were holding me too tight. The gravel from the ground made little cuts around, too. I looked terrible.

"I would've killed him." He says, gliding his hand around my bruises.

"Carl-" I start.

"No." He shakes his head forcefully. "I would have. If dad didn't, I would've. I wouldn't think twice about it."

"Carl, please." I breathe shakily. "I don't want to talk about it." I readjust the strap on my shoulder. I still feel violated. It makes me sick.

He looks at the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." I know what he meant. Bring back the memories.

I don't respond. Instead, I rest my forehead against his and close my eyes. I can hear him sigh, and I smile. Mission accomplished.
We rest there, our foreheads touching and we intertwine our fingers, holding each other's hands tightly. Our knees lock together and our bodies press close. It is short, yet sweet. Something we needed.

"The hat." I whisper, moving my head to the side to look at it. The brown leather is easy to see in the truck. It sticks out from the gray interior.

"I'll grab it." Carl says, and I move away from him so he can grab it. He takes the sheriff hat and puts it atop his head, where it rightfully belongs. Sure, I liked wearing the hat, but it isn't mine. Never has been, never will be.

I hop out of the back first, Carl trailing behind me. The adults, now including Daryl, wait for us.

When we get to them, there is an awkward silence. No one knows what to say to each other since the events of last night.

Rick speaks up. "We're gonna continue on, to Terminus. If those maps are right, we're only a few hours away."

I nod in agreement with the rest of the group. And so we set on, walking along train tracks we never really stray from.

The walk is mostly silent, except for the rustling of leaves and the crunches of them beneath our feet. The heavy breaths that come from Daryl and Carl fill the air. But that's about it. No one really wants to speak.

That is, until Rick and mom start to chat. I don't focus on the words they say. Just the tone of their voices. They're calm, and collected. They don't sound mad or furious or agitated. I mean, I'm sure they are inside, but it doesn't reach their words. Rick and mom, just chatting the day away. It's a normalcy that I enjoy.

We come across another Terminus sign during our walk. This one isn't high and mighty. Someone, or something, knocked it to the ground.

"We're gettin' close." Daryl says. "Be there before sundown."

Rick nods. "Now we head through the woods. We don't know who they are."

Murmurs of agreement follow. And we walk into the brush, shielding ourselves from what may become enemy eyes.

Since we're closer, our hands automatically go to our trusted weapons. Mom's slings backward, over the hilt of the katana. Daryl always has a hand on his crossbow. And for Rick, Carl, and I; our hands hold our guns. My knife has made a home in my boot, tucked in tightly against my leg.

A few meters away from us, we can now see it. A fence. Large and tall. Protective of the fortress that is held inside. I'm not sure whether to feel elated or angry. These people have, from what I can tell, a good set-up. Now, the rest of this plays out on whether they're good people.

"We all spread out." Rick orders. "Watch for a while, see what we see. And get ready. We all stay close."

Then we silently break out into groups. Mom and Carl, Rick and Daryl and me.

"Want to stick with me?" Rick asks Carl. There's almost a hint of desperation in his voice. A desperation to keep his son close. To watch over him and make sure that he is all right.

But his desperation is shot down. Carl shakes his head, says, "It's all right." And walks off with mom. Ricks eyes trail off toward the two, a huff escaping his lips.

And then, he shut it off. Like a light switch. His face becomes monotonous and his eyes go blank. He turns toward the compound, searching around for any sign of life. From what we can see, everyone is either inside or they're dead. I can't help but hope for the latter. It would be easier that way. We'd have their compound, their food, and we wouldn't have to worry about anyone else. We wouldn't have to wonder if the people near us will kill us. All those thoughts would be put to rest.

I'm so lost in these thoughts that I don't notice Rick and Daryl moving away from the fence. The sheriff turns to the brush and spots Carl and mom hugging each other. Daryl is moving to our right, most likely scoping out the surprisingly empty compound that oh so generously offered us sanctuary. When I notice the empty spaces, I walk to our leader. He rests his side on a skinny brown tree, the bark barren of any leaf or flower that could have grown. I stop behind him, looking at the emotion showing on his face. I can't tell if it is jealousy, for his son ran to another person to confide in, or pain, that it seems that his son doesn't trust him. It's probably a mixture of both.

"You need to shave." I state bluntly.

He jumps at the sound, but relaxes once he notices it me. He unconsciously rubs at the quickly growing beard.

"Yeah, well, I kinda like it." He replies, shaking his head as if to clear his mind.

"It makes you look old."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I am old."

"Yeah, well, you don't need to look it." I say, my hand running through my hair. "So next time I see a razor, you're getting it."

"Fine."

Hmm, not the response I was looking for. He is clearly distracted.

"Fine?"

"Fine." He says again. I shake my head.

"What're we looking for?" I still attempt to get his attention.

Finally, I gain his full interest. "Somewhere to put the duffel bag. I don't want us give in there with everything on us. Things go south, we'll still have stuff to

use when we get out."
"Mmhmm." So I search until I find a suitable mini ditch, which he and I dig into. The dirt gets trapped under my long nails and it cakes itself in the creases of my palms. Not the worst thing to get my hands on, but dirty enough for me to scrunch my nose in disgust.

Rick tosses in the duffel once we're done, and Daryl comes by to watch us toss our dirt pile onto it. Rick feels the need to explain, so he simply says, "Just in case."

Then the real work begins. Our group gathers up at the rickety fence, where we climb over and hop from. One at a time. The rust is crunchy under our palms and heels as we grasp and pull at it. First is Rick to hop over it, then mom, me, Carl, and Daryl. The moment we drop to the floor our weapons are brandished and cocked, and our eyes scour the place, memorizing every detail, noticing every exit, searching each building block. We can't afford to lose now.

We run across the burning pavement as fast as our legs can take us. It is what seems to be the side of the main building.

As I look through the self-called, "Sanctuary for all," I notice that the buildings are from an old factory. The way this set-up is built, the work area for the men.

We make it to a red door marked, "FIRE EXIT," and Rick ushers us inside. We hear the sound of a woman speaking inside. Her voice is projected proudly from a speaker.

"Come to Terminus. Those who arrive, survive."

Daryl is first to walk down the hall. The end of his crossbow is pointed in front of him as a precaution. Mom is directly behind him, her blade shining in the dark. Then Carl and I. Our guns seem measly compared to their weapons, but we still hold them strongly. Proudly. Deadly. Rick takes the back of the group. Keeping an eye on all of us. His Python is gripped in his hands.

"Follow the tracks to the point where all lines intersect. There are maps at the crossings to help guide you through your journey."

Daryl looks through an open doorway, glancing at the people inside. I follow suit, counting up the people, looking at their weaponless hands, seeing how they walk. They're relaxed as they set colorful thumbtacks on a map against a cork board.

"Sanctuary for all.

Community for all.

Those who arrive, survive."

Daryl looked back to Rick and mom. They both nodded back to him. So instead of acting like rabid animals, who strolled in with our weapons pointed down to the cement flooring.

"Terminus.

Those who arrive, survive."

"Hello." Ricks hoarse voice greeted. He walked to the front of our little line. "Hello."

The people, about seven, stiffen. They look up at us, curious and scared at once. I guess people don't jump in their perimeter often. Go us.

"Well," a man at the map sets down a green pin from his hand, "I bet Albert is on perimeter watch."

I look at the man. I guess that he is Terminus' leader, the way people look at him. They unconsciously turn to him, like we are a situation to be dealt with. He is needed to fix the problem. Us.

He has short brown hair, and brown eyes. A smile is plastered on his face. Utterly fake and malicious. A beige jacket rests on his shoulders. He walks up, in front of his people, but a fair distance away from us. "You here to rob us?"

"No." Rick answers. Plain and simple. "We wanted to see you before you saw us." He sets his Python into his holster.

The man huffs out a laugh. I inwardly shiver at it. It isn't one of happiness or nervousness. There is an evil to it, as if it was maniacal. "Makes sense."

He continues on and walks to Rick. "Usually we do this where the tracks meet." He coughs a little to clear his throat and throws out his hands. "Welcome to Terminus! I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit."

"We have." Rick says with the slightest of nods. "I'm Rick. That's Carl, Alyssa, Daryl, Michonne."

Gareth silently waves at us. None of us reply to him. I grip my Glock tighter in my hands.

"You're nervous! I get it. We were all the same way." He lazily tossed his hand back to his group. He takes a few more steps to Rick. "We came here for sanctuary."

Oh, really? I couldn't tell from all of your, "Sanctuary for all," posts on the tracks.

"That what you're here for?" He asks us.

No. I came here because I wanted a mocha latte, I internally snarl at him. Something about him just set me off. This is not the sanctuary we were promised.

But Rick seems to buy it. So he heaves out a strong, "Yes."

"Good." Gareth nods in approval. "You found it." He tosses his head back, "Hey, Alex!" A man jumps at his names and strides over to us. "This isn't as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer."
When, presumably, Alex, a man with brown curls and a smile plastered on his face, makes his way to us Gareth continues on. "Alex will take you, ask you a few questions." Alex gives us a small wave. "Uh, but first, we need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay 'em down in front of you."

Fuck. This.

That's not gonna happen.

Rick turns his head, looking at all of us. I shake my head, super lightly, but Rick gets my message. Mom, on the other hand, nods. Daryl gives Rick a look, but Rick takes it as a yes. Carl, on my side, shakes a little.

But, still, Rick says, "All right," to Gareth. I swear, Rick fucking Grimes. If we get in trouble, I blame this on you.

"I'm sure you understand." Gareth says as Rick sets his Python on the floor. I put my Glock down as well. Daryl sets his crossbow, mom her katana, Carl his gun.

"Yes, I do." And there's a knowing look in his eye as he stand back up. Good. He hasn't gotten too crazy. Gareth pulls his arms out from his sides, a gesture for Rick to do the same. So we all comply and hold out our arms. Gareth pats down Rick's sides, and Alex starts on Daryl.

"Hate to see the other guy." Alex remarks as he gets a close up of Daryls' figure.

"You would." Rick snapped.

Alex moved onto Carl. "They deserve it?"

"Yes." One word answer from Carl, but true all the same. Gareth moved to me. His arms pat down my sides, where he eyes the bruises around my waist. He then moves underneath my shoulders, down my back, and down my legs. His hands felt my around my boots, where I left my knife. He takes it out, the blade stained red from last nights encounter. His eyes go from my knife to me, where I remain emotionless.

"They must've." Gareth comments. He sets the knife next to my Glock.

"You have no idea." They are the only words I say inside this building. Inside this entire compound.

He steps back from us, and says, "Just so you know, we aren't those kind of people, but we aren't stupid either. And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid. As long as everyone's clear on that we shouldn't have any problems. Just solutions."

We say nothing back, so he gives a nod to Alex to say that we are clear. Alex goes to the ground and hands mom her katana. She eyes him warily. No one touches her katana.

Daryl grabs his crossbow from the floor before Alex does. He continues on, handing Carl his gun. He take my Glock and bloody knife from the floor, making a face at the blood. He hands them to me, and I set my knife into my sheath instead. My Glock is being held tightly in my right hand as Rick receives his Python.

"Follow me." Alex flicks his hand over to the door on our left, and we follow him through it.

"So how long's this place been here?" Daryl asks.

"Since almost the start." Alex answers. "When all the camps got overrun, people started finding this place. I think it was instinct, y'know? Follow a path."

We make our way through Terminus. Past the building we just walked out of, and we follow Alex to what reminds me of a courtyard. There is a mini garden in the middle, full of flowers and a few vegetables. I can see one of the tomato plants, full of bright green leaves and shiny red tomatoes. The thought of food makes my mouth water. I haven't seen so much in one place since the prison. I can barely remember the taste of a tomato.

The inhabitants of this community walk around, glancing our way as we move around as Alex continues his story. "Some folks were heading to the coast, others out west or up north, but they all wound up here." Alex brought us over to a large grill, an older woman manning the station. She gives us a smile. Well, it is more of a grimace. It is so forced that it hurts to look at.

"Hi." She says to us as she flips a sizzling rib on the grill. "Heard you came in the back door. Smart. You'll fit right in here."

"Fit right in here." It rang through my head. I don't think I want to.

"Hey, Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a plate for me?" Alex asks. She gives a nod and begins to set some ribs up on paper plates. Each plate is set up with a corresponding plastic fork.

"Why do you do it?" Mom asks Alex. "Why do you let people in?"

"The more people become a part of us, we get stronger." He replies, shrugging out the answer. He grabs a plate and hands it to Carl. He gingerly takes it from our tour guide. "That's why we put up the signs, let people in. It's how we survive." He gives me a plate, and I take it with shaking hands. I know not to ever get my hopes up, but just the smell of barbecue set my senses into hyperdrive. I haven't had something cooked to eat for forever. And the heat of the rib on the plate makes me desperate to eat the thing whole.

I look at Rick behind me. He isn't listening to Alex's story. His eyes remain fixated on the people lounging around us. He's stiffened in his spot. The look becomes a glare. His hand twitches above his Python.

Shit.

That's when I notice it. The watch in Alex's pocket. GLENN'S watch. The one Hershel gave to him. And in that moment I know that my suspicions of this places are correct.

Rick strides over to Alex, calmly. Not a care in the world.

Then he knocks my plate from my hands simultaneously with Carls'. His hand goes around Alex's neck and his Python clicks as he puts it against Alex's head.
Our group as one sets our weapons up. Daryl's crossbow points at Mary. Moms katana is pointed toward the inhabitants, along with Carls' gun and my own.

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick hisses into Alex's ear.

"You want answers?! You want anything else?! You'll get 'em when you put down the gun!" Alex tries to reason with Rick. He even puts his hands up in a surrender.

Rick pulls them to his right. "I see your man on the room with a sniper rifle. How good's his aim? Where'd you get the watch?!"

Nothing. Just pants of pure fear.

"WHERE'D YOU GET THE WATCH?!" Rick screams into his ear.

"Don't do anything!" Alex screams to his sniper. "I have this! Just put it down! You put it down!" The sniper begrudgingly sets his weapon on the rooftop.

Alex quiets his voice. "You want to listen to me. There's a lot of us."

"Where. Did you get. The. Watch?"

"I got it off of a dead one. I didn't think he'd need it." Bullshit. Glenn is strong. He wouldn't die that easily after the downfall of our prison.

Rick pulls Alex to the rest of the group. "What about the riot gear? The poncho?"

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop." Gareth's voice came from Ricks' left. His hands are empty and open. My gun points to his head. "Found the poncho on a clothesline."

"Gareth, we can wait-" Alex starts.

"Shut up, Alex." Gareth dismisses the hostage.

"You talk to ME." Rick demands.

Gareth's hands intertwine and he relaxes in his stance. "What's there left to say? You don't trust us anymore."

"Gareth-" Alex pleads.

Gareth holds out a hand. "Shut. Up."

"Gareth, please!"

"It's okay. It's okay." He looks to the kidnapper. "Rick, what do you want?"

"Where are our people?" No more Mr. Nice Guy.

"You didn't answer the question." Gareth closed his hand. A sign. To Mary.

Rick flipped around and Mary's gun shot Alex instead of Rick. I would've missed the sign. Rick didn't.

At that moment, all hell broke loose.

Gunfire was everywhere. All of Terminus against us. It is like a switch was flipped. From community to war zone.

My gun went from Gareth to the man with the riot gear. Glenn's riot gear. I shot my Glock and even though it was a large distance, I still got him to his knees in his own blood.

"Go gogogo!" Rick yells to us and we book it behind him. We run through a small pathway past the courtyard, following him as we shoot behind us. People on top of the buildings try in vain to shoot us, but either they're really bad at aiming or they're trying to herd us into one spot. We take a sharp turn to our left, running through a small garage area. The gate in front of us closes and the people behind us attempt to shower us with bullets.

"Over here!" Daryl yells at us, and we run to a gate on our right. We pull at it but it doesn't budge.

"Shit." I mutter.

Our herd then runs as one to a door on our left. This one opens, leading us to the back area of Terminus. Rusty cars and boxes litter the floor. It almost looks inhabitable. But the gunfire from above disagrees with me.

We continue our marathon through the empty walkway, past buildings and we see an opening.

Dead bodies litter the ground. Intestines, ribs, mangled corpses everywhere. Tossed out. I'm surprised I don't puke at the sight.

We have no time to look at it anymore. The bullets get too close for our liking and we continue on through the not-so-safe-sanctuary. We end up at a cluster fuck of train cars. And we hear voices. People screaming from inside them as they hang in the metal.

"Let me out!"

"Help!"

"Get me out of here!"

What. The. Fuck.

"The hell?" Daryl voices confusion.

"Keep going!" Rick urges us to go on, so we do. We find a door on the side of a nearby building that we run into.

Candles. Candles everywhere. They hang from the ceiling and are set on trays and little statues surround them. Tiny little memoirs, or trophies, rather, hang around the candles, with names written over them. Necklaces, cards, wallets. And on the walls, in blood, is,

"NEVER AGAIN.

NEVER TRUST.

WE FIRST, ALWAYS."

"What the hell is this place?" I gasp.

"These people, I don't think they're trying to kill us." Mom says.

"No. They were aiming at our feet." Rick concludes.

"They're herding us." I say.

Rick points to the wall directly across from us; a door that's slightly ajar. "There."

So we make our hurried way over to it. Then the door closes from the outside. I mutter incoherently under my breath.

"There." Daryl points to the wall on our right. This door is closed, but as gas as I can tell there's no one attempting to keep it closed.

So Rick growls, "Go!" and we make our way out the room of terrors.

We are immediately met with gunfire at our feet. The cracks of the bullets hitting the ground fills my ears as I run in between the building we just left and recently burnt wood that sits defeated on the ground.

And then, "Shit."

They stuck us in a corner of the fence, completely open. Completely exposed. Hiding behind the chain-link is a row of men, all armed with strong, deadly rifles. To our right is a train car. To our left is the end of the fence. On the rooftops behind us, there are snipers trained on us. My guess is that they are ALL willing to use deadly force this time.

And, for the second time in two days, I am truly afraid for my life.

"Drop your weapons!" Gareth yells from a rooftop. I jerk at the sound of his voice. And I think, I'm going to die. We're going to die..
"Now." Gareth says, little patience in his tone. I huff what I think are my last breaths and stare at mom. Her stance has stiffened and her eyes train between me and the killer on the roof. "NOW!"

In unison, we all drop our weapons. I don't make a move to take out the knife in my boot, hoping that he won't remember in the heat of the moment. I pray silently that he'll focus on the larger weapons; the crossbow, the katana, the guns. But my wish doesn't come true.

"The knife too, sweetheart." He calls. I close my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh, and take the last piece of protection from my leg.

"Ringleader, go to your left." Gareth announces, speaking of Rick. "The train car, go."

Rick stares at the rusted red as Gareth impatiently adds, "You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies and you end up in there anyway."

Ricks eyes are completely void of hope. They no longer have the glimmer of happiness. The replacement is desperation as he looks towards his fifteen year old son.

He couldn't take any more chances. Anything he does will be used against him, and his son. He wouldn't want anything her done hurt his son. So he walks to the train car. Slowly.

When Rick makes it halfway Gareth calls out, "Now the archer." Daryl glares at the leader of the Termites (that is what I call them, in my last moments. I need one last laugh, even if it is internally,) before his feet make him move to the left in Ricks' wake.

"Now, the samurai." Gareth announces. I find it funny that he gives us pet names. I don't laugh, for my stupidity would surely get me killed faster, but the stroke of creativity gets Gareth a funny point. Not that he's worth anything else.

Mom gives me one quick look before she moves to the left. In that look, I mouth, "I love you," one last time to her. I need her to know that. She is my rock. I've needed her time and time again, and there is no way in hell that I would allow myself to die without telling her, "I love you," one last time.

The three adults all walk to the door as Gareth barks out more orders. "Stand at the door. Ringleader, archer, samurai, in that order." They comply, albeit terrified. I stand rigidly by Carls' side, fearful of what could happen. Different scenarios run through my mind, a billion in a moment, thinking of how this could- would end. I don't find any that resolves in us living. I look at Carl in my peripheral vision. And yet again I mouth the words, "I love you."

"My son." Rick calls at the train car door. "My daughter."

"Go, Mini sheriff." That was Carl's cue to leave. He wastes no time in walking to the others. I stand alone, my eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable. They were going to kill me.

"You, too, Princess."

And I release a breath that I've been holding since we were told to drop our weapons. This by no means makes us safe, but at least we are now a whole. An entity stronger than these Termites.

And I realize that I get to live, maybe for another day. That is all I need in this moment. It is all I want in this moment.

As Carl and I walk to the others Gareth gives another order. "Ringleader, open the door and go in."

"I'll go in with them." Rick defies. I plead silently with my eyes for him to just GO. If anything happens to us, it will spare him the pain of watching us fall. It will save my mother and Daryl and him. They could live through this. They could fight again. And, hell, maybe Carl will love that freedom with them, too.

"Don't make us kill them now." Gareth dismisses.

Rick fights the urge to run to us, to defy the Termite leader and get us killed. His feet travel up the sad excuse for wooden steps and pulls open the rickety door. Daryl and mom soon follow.

Our walk to the train car is slow. I want to sprint; I feel the adrenaline in my veins and my pulse quickens and the sweat that soaks my shirt make me want to run. I want to go away, anywhere. My fight-or-flight response is flight. Fight hasn't worked. I need to go.

But I can't go. I move anywhere but the car and I'll be shot. Dead. No possible way of living. And my thoughts now consist of, "No. Not a possible answer. I thought I was dead. I'm not.

Let's keep it that way."

Our steps are slow and meticulous, but we finally make it to the train cart. We finally live.

Ricks hands grab us when we make it inside. One on Carl, one on me. As he pulls us to him the door behind us gets pulled shut. The five of us pull to the wall, huddled tightly together.

And we hear a thud from the other side.

Inside the train car, it is almost pitch black. The only light source we have is through the cracks on the left side, from the roof. And that light shows us who we've been locked up with.

Glenn.

"Rick?" He calls tentatively. From behind him, Maggie and Sasha step up to the light. And Bob makes his way to us, behind Sasha.

"You're here." Rick says. Despite the ultimate peril we narrowly escaped, her smiles. "You're here." He repeats, as though he can't believe it. Our people are safe.
Others follow behind him. A woman, her brown hair pulled tightly into a ponytail, walks behind Glenn. Her stature reminds me of a chihuahua. Small, adorable, but ready to bark her head off at people she doesn't trust. A tall, muscular ginger with a scruffy goatee gives us a sharp look from his side of the car. Another woman, presumably of Latino descent, looks at us under the flap of her hat. And one more man hides behind the rest. I can safely say that his most defining feature is his mullet.

"They're our friends." Maggie jerks her head to the back." "They helped save us."

I give her a nod. Daryl replies. "Yeah. Now they're friends of ours."

"For however long that'll be." The ginger brushes off.

"No." Rick says, disagreeing with ginger. He steps to the door, searching through the spaces in the wall to the outside.

"They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out." Rick comments.

Ginger raises an eyebrow. "Find out what?"

Rick looks back to the group as a whole entity.

"They're fucking with the wrong people."

A/N: And, BAM! End of season four! Hope you all liked it! Feel free to check out TWWLI for new updates to see how it has changed. I assure you, it'll be different. Maybe not right this moment, but maybe this Friday or next week.

Sometime in the near future, okay?

And, besides, I'm going to be busy this weekend at Comic Con!

So, yeah, all I wanted to say. I hope it was satisfactory for all of you. And I hope I'll have as many awesome followers for season fives fanfic, "Not How We Were."