New story, welcome to Apocalyptic Deceptions. Eventual Rick/OC but I don't like to rush things or throw characters together so trust me when I say eventual. Set in season 3 and of course we don't know how the mid-season finale, or the rest of the season, will turn out yet (as of 21/11/12) so I can't say whether this will follow the storyline exactly.

Don't know if this idea has been done yet, though it probably has, so I'll say now that any similarities to other stories are purely coincidence.

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 –

She ran; the heavy footfalls of the men around her echoing through the forest in time with her own racing heartbeat. Using the slightness of her body to her advantage, she pushed harder, faster; she had to get ahead of them. They were closing in now. They had located their victim and now they would teach them a lesson.

Her eyes darted around her as she jumped over fallen branches and weaved under lower ones, snagging her hair on occasion but it didn't break her stride and soon the men were behind her, suddenly dispersing themselves after a sharp whistle from their leader. She could see another figure ahead now, mimicking her own movements as he too sped through the forest.

He glanced back, checking for pursuers, but only seeing a single woman; her expression filled with desperation and fear. Her head was darting from side to side then to the back as if she too was checking who was following her. But the man recognised her. She had been with them so why was she now acting like she was running from them? He risked another glance at her, still wary, but it was enough for him to need to slow down and for her to gain ground.

"Please," she called out, a British accent very prominent in that one word. Her voice was breaking though as if strangled by tears and the helplessness in her tone was all too evident but still the man wasn't stopping. "Please, you have to help me! Please!"

He still wasn't slowing but the glances at her were becoming more and more frequent as he battled in his mind whether or not he could trust her. The basic instinct to survive spurred him on as if something was telling him if he stopped now, he would surely be dead in seconds. However, even survival instincts weren't enough to make him carry on when a heart-wrenching scream tore through the trees. He paused in the middle of a clearing, looking helplessly around. His heart hammered beneath his dirt-ridden shirt, his senses strained to detect the slightest movement as he ran a hand through his lank and greasy hair. He was truly lost now.

A sudden snap resonating around him caused him to turn, terrified, only to find the girl tumbling out of a thicker gathering of trees and barrelling straight for him. He had no choice but to catch the falling young woman in his arms and steady her. Her hands immediately sought his shirt, clinging to it as if her life depended on it, whilst her head still swung frantically to each side.

"Please," she repeated, still clawing at his shirt, his arms, anywhere she could reach. "Those men… they kidnapped me. They'll kill me… please, you have to help me!"

She was so vulnerable in that moment with her shoulder-length blonde hair framing a face made up of watery grey-blue eyes and soft features. Even the tear tracks down her cheeks weren't enough to distract his attention away from her eyes. He moved his hands down her arms and squeezed her biceps slightly to gain her attention.

"It's ok, I've got you- they ain't here," he told her. "Calm down."

She nodded and relaxed slightly under his reassuring gaze but the tears still poured down her face. "They're coming back. They always come back… please you can't let them take me!" She was turning hysterical again and the man didn't see another choice but to pull her into his arms- if the men were near, she would need to be quiet. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder but was turned into his neck. She quieted again and managed to pull herself out of his arms. He would admit to being disappointed in that moment; he hadn't held a woman in almost a year.

"We can't stay here," he told her. "Do you think you can keep it together long enough for us to find a place to hide?" she nodded again. "Good. Ok, I'm Nathaniel."

Nathaniel held out a hand for the pretty, young woman in front of him to take. She slipped her small hand into his, hesitantly, but when she looked up into his eyes, he could see the smile on her lips. He couldn't help but smile back.

He'd been about to ask her for her name too- a proper introduction. He didn't quite understand what was happening until he felt her pull him forward by his hand and then an excruciating, stabbing pain ripped through his lower abdomen. Shocked, Nathaniel looked down to see her hand gripping a knife that was protruding from his body. His eyes rose again to meet hers and the soft smile was no longer there- instead her eyes were hard and no expression showed. A small twist of her hand and the wound opened further, but he couldn't scream. He groaned as the pain was increased to an infinite level but he was paralysed to do much else. His hands were gripping her arms in a lock that must have been painful but she didn't care. A sharp pull and the blade left his body, forcing him to his knees in front of her.

She stared down at him with only satisfaction on her face- no pity, no remorse, and no emotion. She knelt down in front of him, uncaring about the blood gushing from his open wound, and their gazes locked once more before she leant forward to whisper in his ear.

"Amelia Granger."

-8-

Amelia knelt down beside the now dead body of the man she had just driven her knife into. His blue t-shirt was completely covered in blood and so she felt no guilt at using the material to wipe clean her blade. Taking his chin between her fingers, she studied his features as if she was committing them to memory. Withdrawn face, obviously starving; dark circles under eyes, obviously hadn't slept. His hair was matted with filth but it looked to be a sandy-colour and of course, she remembered the vivid green eyes.

"Shame, you were quite attractive," She said to the corpse before rising to her feet. "Don't you think Merle?"

A loud, deep chuckle sounded from behind her. "You done admirin' your work, girl?" Amelia only hmm'd in response. "Best put him down then, 'fore he takes a bite out o' your pretty lil' ass."

When she showed no attempt at doing what he asked, Merle walked towards the body, intending to drive his own blade –the one in place of his missing hand- through the boy's eye instead. He had just lined up the long, metal instrument with his target, kneeling down slightly to do so, when a gunshot rang clear. Nathaniel's forehead was blown apart, forcing blood, skin and brain matter into the air which Merle was unfortunate enough to be in the firing line of. He looked down at his pants in disdain before cocking his head to the side to glare at Amelia who simply looked down at him, her gun already re-holstered.

"What do I tell you about usin' guns?" Merle asked.

"Not to," was Amelia's reply.

Despite the situation, Merle's booming laugh surrounded them again. "You're good, girl."

It was silent in the front truck of the three-car-convoy as the so called 'research team' made their way back to the small town that acted as home in the messed up times they were living in. Amelia was sat in the back seat, behind Merle, with Tim in the driver's seat and Crowley beside her. The truck was too hot from the suffocating Georgian heat which meant the men were covered in sweat; not for the first time, Amelia wondered why Georgia had been her chosen place to hide-out.

She, absentmindedly, picked at the dried red stain on her left hand- a result of Nathaniel's blood pouring down the hilt of her knife and congealing on her hand. Amelia smirked as she laid her head against the window, looking out at the green land they were flying past, thinking about how well their job had turned out today.

They had been sent to scavenge a car pile-up that had been spotted a few days ago. By the time they got there, three men had been sitting in the bed of one truck. They'd been easy enough to take out- three quick shots to the head. Of course Merle hadn't minded the guns being used then. But they hadn't seen the fourth man, the one that turned out to be Nathaniel, until he took off into the woods.

She had wanted to be the one to catch him. It was always the chase that Amelia liked. The killing was necessary- the chase was fun. The look on her victims' faces when she caught up to them always gave her a small hit of amusement. They always presumed that because she was the woman, she would show mercy- maybe even let them live. More often than not, she toyed with them; letting them think that was exactly what she was going to do. She even had a story about how she was being held prisoner by the men around her and they were forcing her to join them, to kill. She was nothing but a skilled actress- an actress with sharp abilities and the lack of conscience that came with multiple murders. For this she was always rewarded.

The heavy wooden doors in the centre of the high wall, made up of metal blocks and tyres, swung open as the cars pulled into view of the guard and then stopped on the main street through the town. Woodbury.

Buildings lined either side of the wide street- some houses, stores, a restaurant. Lines of cleanly cut grass ran up the centre, with rounded trees were alternately placed in between. People walked freely, safe in the knowledge that nothing could get to them behind the wall- something few could say before they had reached Woodbury. There was a twenty-four hour guard stationed at the wall, the rest of the defence team were on constant call in case the numbers weren't enough and the whole town was surrounded by metal fences with only the main gate as an access point.

In past times, these precautions would seem like an excessive, and perhaps paranoid, investment but not now. These were the only things protecting the 75 residents of Woodbury from the vicious, terrifying and hungry members of the walking dead that existed just on the other side of those fences. When the dead come back to life with a craving for living flesh, there is no such thing as too precautious.

Amelia climbed out of the truck as a few residents gathered around, eager to see what the team had managed to bring back this time. Admittedly, it wasn't a lot; some clothes, toiletries, but people took whatever they could get and were grateful for it. That was one good thing about entering a zombie apocalypse- no one took anything for granted anymore.

"…just one lil' problem but Amelia over here fixed that, didn'cha princess?"

She looked up at the sound of her name, pausing in the act of reaching for her newly claimed cardigan. Merle was standing just to the side of the truck and beside him, the man responsible for making their town successful. The Governor smiled lightly at Amelia who made her way over to the two men.

"Of course she did. That's why we keep her around right?" He commented, the smile still firmly in place.

"Good to know I'm useful for something," Amelia replied, smirking at the Governor's ability to act so carefree in public. A good leader leads by example- the atmosphere in town always seemed to reflect the Governor's current mood, something which the man himself was very aware of.

"Let's go up to my office," he said, suddenly. Amelia didn't question him but the subtle glance he made down at her hand told her exactly what the problem was; she still had blood on her. The team coming back bloody always caused a stir and so they tried to avoid it. He turned to the remaining team. "Tim, Crowley, make sure this stuff gets put away properly."

After a quick 'yes Governor' to which he thanked them, Amelia and Merle were led to the Town Hall. At the Governor's quiet insistence, Amelia had slipped into the cardigan she had taken from one of the scavenged cars. It didn't quite hide the blood but it was much less noticeable. It was also a good thing the vest top she had decided to wear that day was black since the blood she knew was spattered there wasn't showing.

Amelia had been in the Governor's office numerous times for one reason or another but it never failed to feel like a headmaster's office to her with its dark wood walls, large polished desk and high backed chair. With the Governor sat behind the desk, the level of intimidation was raised even higher. Physically, he wasn't a man you would be instantly threatened by but it was his confident yet almost humble demeanour that drew people to him and made him a good leader. He was a person that demanded respect without having to order it- it came naturally to him.

"What happened?" The Governor asked them, reclining back in his chair. He looked the picture of ease when he did that but all traces of his careless nature were gone now that he didn't have an audience watching his every move.

Merle began to recount the story. How they'd got to the pile-up to find the three guys there, how a fourth guy had managed to sneak around them and so they had all set off after him into the woods. How Amelia had gotten ahead of the rest and took off on her own.

This turned the spotlight onto Amelia. "Then what?"

"I ran after him but he was pretty fast," she began. "I was told to avoid using a gun so I had to resort to other means."

"And by 'other means' you mean you tricked him?"

Amelia nodded in response. "I called out, begged him to help me but he wasn't having it so I ran into a closer gathering of trees. I screamed and he stopped. Then he let me get too close."

The Governor silently regarded her for a moment and Amelia resisted the urge to avert her gaze and shift uncomfortably. He was the only person in this new world capable of making her uneasy.

"Well you got the job done," He eventually spoke, his tone softer. "Just make sure you clean up afterwards Amelia." He indicated again to her now covered arm.

"Yes, Governor."

"Use the bathroom here. Can't have anyone seeing that."

Doing as she was told, Amelia scrubbed at the dried blood with only the nails on her other hand and a bar of soap. She was sure she herself would draw blood if she scratched any harder. Rinsing the remaining soap off her sore skin and leaving it under the running cold water for a moment, Amelia stared at her reflection in the mirrors above. She had lost a lot of weight in the time she had travelled alone through the northern states before reaching the south. That had been five months ago.

When the Governor's men had come across her, she was trying to wash Biter blood off a nearly rotten apple she'd somehow found- she was next to starving by then. The Governor had taken her in, given her food, shelter and human company for the first time in 126 days- she'd kept count. Amelia soon became an asset in herself though. She knew how to shoot, how to defend herself and only a short time after her arrival in Woodbury, she was offered a place on the defence team- the only female until Haley joined too. Still, Amelia was a valued and respected part of the team- which was why it wasn't a strange request for the Governor to invite her along to his office with only Merle.

She left the bathroom and re-entered the office to find the Governor there alone. Honestly, she preferred it that way- Merle could be quite annoying and sometimes she found herself fighting the urge to cut off his other hand too.

"Done?" The Governor asked as he stood up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand in front of Amelia.

"Yes," she replied, holding up her now blood-free hand.

"Good."

She was about to ask if that was all he needed her for- whether she was free to leave- when the Governor raised his hand and reached out as if he were about to take hold of her hair. His eyes were staring intently at her blonde curls and it took all of her strength for Amelia to not back away from him but found she couldn't tell him to back off either. Everyone felt drawn to him- she was no different. She felt his fingers dig in and her eyes darted up to look at his. Their gazes locked as Amelia felt another pull before the Governor released her. In his hand, he held a small twig that must have entangled itself into her hair in the forest.

"You can go now."

With a single nod, Amelia turned on her heel and headed for the door, distinctly embarrassed and pissed at what had just occurred despite the fact nothing had happened.

"I've swapped the schedule. You're not on guard tonight- get some sleep."

"I'm fine, I can do it." She told him, the slightest hint of anger creepy into her tone as she faced him again. She didn't want him worrying over her sleeping pattern but of course, he was protecting the town- something he clearly felt she wouldn't be able to do that night. Obviously her earlier behaviour was not being taken into account here; she'd killed a guy, a couple of Biters were not going to be a problem.

The Governor had taken place behind his desk again, looking at a sheet of paper. "It's not a choice, Amelia."

A good key to survival is to know which battles to pick- which ones you would win and which ones you wouldn't. The latter of which it's easier to simply cut your losses and walk away. The only problem with this theory was that, with the Governor, the battles were always lost which made it even harder to walk away. The Governor was like a burning flame- if you go in too deep, you'll only damage yourself. So Amelia gave in, nodded once more and went to leave but she was stopped again.

"Oh, Amelia?" she turned back to face him with a silent sigh. "Good work today."

So what do we think? Feel free to drop me a review.

I'm not sure how regular updates will be for a couple of weeks since I have got a Daryl/OC still in progress that I love writing so that one comes first I'm afraid. Plus, I'm at uni but I have four weeks off for christmas soon. Expect more updates then!

Thank you!