A/N: Hello, everyone! First of all, I would just like to state: I AM SO SORRY for being MIA for 8 months! Last time I updated, it was around August, and I promised, "My new fanfiction will be out next week!"

...8 months later I finally put it up. I am so sorry, haha. Whoops. I just never got around to making it. I just had no ideas for season four whatsoever, and I got so busy with school and my new puppy. But, if this counts at all, the first chapter is finally up, and hopefully I can get back into the swing of updating once every week. That's the plan, at least.

Let me tell you guys, as I was writing this, I read my last story, and I found grammar mistakes everywhere! I also thought that a lot of the stuff was so OOC for the characters, and I just generally thought, "The World We Live In," was just so childish. Thank all of you that have stuck with my bad writing! I'm trying this time around, to not be as silly with Alyssa and Carl's relationship, and Alyssa and Michonne's relationship. I'm trying to add more detail and make up some more plot. Feel free to to tell me if something just doesn't sound right during the story.

PS: I'm not sure how old Carl is in seasons four and five, so let's just say he is fifteen and Alyssa's fourteen-turning-fifteen in season four. 'Kay? ;)

Well, here you go!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of, "The Walking Dead," or any of its characters or plotlines. I just own Alyssa, my OC.


I saw a squirrel in a tree, just a few paces from me and Daryl. He gave me an encouraging look; one that said, "It's all yours," and I grinned. I raised my bow, grabbed an arrow from my quiver, and notched it. I moved my arms up, just slightly, and let the arrow soar. The squirrel fell to the ground, my arrow not even an inch from its eye, in a dead heap.

I retrieved my arrow with a quiet, "Dammit!"

Daryl picked up the dead squirrel, and nodded approvingly, "Your aims gettin' better."

I shook my head, "I used to get them in the eye each time."

"That was before your wrist broke. You can't shoot perfectly either. Healin' takes time; you gotta deal with it."

I kicked some dirt, "I know. How many squirrels did we get?"

He checked his pouch, "Two rabbits, and looks like about six or seven squirrels. Wanna head back now?"

I nodded, "That's probably all we're gonna get anyway."

He and I trekked through the forest and made our way back to the prison, where Rick and Carl opened the gates for us. Daryl and I walked into cell block C, where we put the hunting bag with the other food, our hunting equipment with the other weapons (everyone knew that the crossbow, bow, and quiver are ours, so no one touches them,) and we washed the animal blood from our hands. We walked outside and went to the courtyard, where Carol was serving food to the others. While walking, many of the people eating said hello to Daryl and a few aimed to me, and Daryl just shook it off. He didn't understand that he was basically famous here.

Getting to the food stand, we sat on two stools, and Carol said, "Just so you two know, I liked you first."

I grinned as she gave me a food bowl and Daryl grabbed some from his bowl with his hands, saying, "Stop," to her.

"You know, Rick brought in a lot of them, too," Daryl said.

"Not recently," Carol told him, "Give the stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're gonna have to learn to live with the love."

"Right," he rolled his eyes.

"I need you to see something," she said, quickly dried her hands on a towel, and asked another kid, "Patrick, you wanna take over?"

"Yes, ma'am," the kid with glasses nodded eagerly, and walked behind the food stand to where Carol was cooking. Patrick, the kid, was from Woodbury like the others. He quickly became Carl's friend. I was still wary of him, but he seemed harmless enough.

As we were walking away, Patrick called out, "Uh, Mr. Dixon, I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir. And I'd be honored to shake your hand." He held out his hand to Daryl.

Carol smiled to Daryl, and I held back laughter as Daryl licked three of his fingers then gave Patrick a rough handshake. Patrick didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, he gave Daryl a gracious smile and he began to work on the grill.

Carol lead us to the makeshift armory we have near the gates, where we saw people in aprons stabbing walkers through the fence. The amount of walkers was almost overwhelming at the fences, and its annoying both me and Carl that his dad won't let us work fence duty. I continued to eat my deer stew with a spoon as we stopped and looked at the full courtyard.

"About today," Carol started. "I don't know if we're gonna be able to spare a lot of people for the run."

"That place is good to go," Daryl answered with food in his mouth. "We're gonna move on it."

"Yeah," she drew out the 'yeah,' with uncertainty. "The thing is, we had a pretty big buildup overnight," and she pointed to tower three, "Dozens more towards three. It's getting as bad as last month." I cringed at that part. That was when Glenn and Maggie got married, and the fence buildup was more than we could handle. That was the last time I used my gun.

"They don't spread out anymore," she explained.

"The more of us sitting here, the more we're drawing them out," Daryl agreed. "You get enough of those damn fence-clingers, they start to herd up."

"They're pushing against the fences again," Carol nodded.

"I could help, you know," I said, "I'm not useless."

They both looked at me and began to shake their heads.

"You know that it isn't up to us, Alyssa," Carol chided.

"If it were, you'd be on fence duty, but we ain't," Daryl added. They both knew I was more than capable to handle the walkers, but, then again, they weren't the only two in charge. Unless the others agreed, which they were never going to, I was stuck babysitting and cleaning dirty dishes, with the occasional hunt with Daryl.

"It's manageable," Carol continued, "But unless we get ahead of it, not for long."

She looked at Daryl with a smile and said, "Sorry, Pookie."

He nudged her shoulder and walked away, and I was looking at the fence workers and eyed them with envy. I wanted to be doing that.

Carol and I walked away from the small armory and I saw Zach and Daryl grabbing stuff for the run. I also want to go, but nobody would let me. I'm a "kid" so I get treated like one, even though I've done things like this, and worse, before.

I sighed loudly as I walked back with Carol, so she asked me, "Are you going to be at story time today?"

I nodded, "Should I bring my knife for demonstration?"

She nodded, "Sure," and we continued to walk back. As we got to the courtyard, she told me to go find Carl and help out at the barn.

I walked out to the gardens and found Rick and Hershel planting another sprout. I'm pretty sure it was green beans, but I couldn't remember. We have so many now, so I can't even tell. I gave them each a wave and a smile and I walked over to the makeshift barn, where I saw Carl trying to feed Violet, one of our pigs that had gotten sick.

"Hey there, Cowboy," I said to him as he gave up, but the left the food in front of her.

"Hey Angel," he answered as he turned to me, "What's up?"

I shook my head slightly, "Nothing, really. How's Violet?"

He lowered his head, "Not good. She's worse than before."

I looked at her, slumped in the corner of the pig pen, "I'm sure she'll get better."

I put on muddy boots that were about two sizes too big, and I hopped into the pen with the pigs and Violet. I looked at the other pigs that were around me, aware that they were going to be food, and frowned. I hated thinking about that, but it's the truth. That's why Rick doesn't like it when we name them.

I walked through the mud and kneeled next to Violet, petting her body as she stayed slumped in the corner. She snorted and sneezed, but that was about all she did. For the most part she kept sleeping. I continued to pet her, hoping that I could at least give her some form of comfort because she wasn't too long for this world. I gave her a half hug on her back, then heard a high whistle. There was only one person who whistles like that outside of the fence.

I got out of the pen as fast as I could, as Rick and Carl ran to open the fence gate for my mom. She's finally back, after a few days. She'll leave for days at a time now, and it scares me a bit. I know she handles herself well, but I just can't help it. Anything can happen outside the gates.

When she got through the door, Rick greeted, "Glad to see you."

She smiled, "Glad to see you, too."

"Mom!" I rushed to her and gave her a hug, which she gladly returned.

She turned to Carl, "Somebody hit the jackpot."

"No way!" he grinned wildly as she pulled out a whole bunch of comic books and candy bars from her bag for him, "Awesome! Thank you."

"I get to read 'em when you're done," mom gave him a grin and turned to Rick, "And I found this."

She handed him what looked like to be an electrical razor as Carl grabbed the horse's reins and walked to the stables.

She gave Rick a sly grin, "Your face is losing the war."

Rick chuckled, staring at the metal object, "You gonna stay a while?"

I looked up at her, and she gave a small nod, "Just a little while."

I watched as the small group of people going on the run today drove down the road, being lead by Daryl on his motorcycle.

"Well, look who's back?" he said to mom.

"Didn't find him," she replied, and he shrugged. I honestly don't think she's ever going to find him.

"I'm thinking of looking over near Macon," she planned, and I rolled my eyes at her.

"Mom, you just got back," I told her, releasing my death grip hug on her. "Relax a bit."

She shook her head and replied forcefully, "It's worth a shot. He's still out there. Remember what he did to you?"

I rubbed my bad wrist and the memories came flying back. I didn't want them to.

Thankfully, Daryl talked before I had to, "70 miles of walkers. You might run into a few unneighborly types. Is it?"

Mom stayed silent, and I mentally thanked Daryl for talking some sense into her.

He turned to Rick, "I'm gonna go check out the Big Spot. The one I was talking about earlier."

"Good luck," I told him and gave him a half-hug, then grabbed the reins from Carl's hand, beginning to walk the horse back to the large stables. I began to block out the conversation, but heard the words, "I'll go," coming out of my mother's mouth.

Carl reacted faster than I did, "But you just got here!"

"And I'll be back," she answered, a half grin on her face.

"Mom..." I whispered under my breath.

She looked at me and walked over, resting her hands on my shoulders, "I'll be back, okay?"

I gave a huff, then looked up at her, "Okay. I love you."

"Love you, too." she kissed the top of my forehead, then jogged to the car behind Daryl and hopped in. I watched as Carl and Rick opened and closed the gates for the group.

Carl and I walked in silence up to the stables, putting the horse in its place and taking the old leather saddle off, resting it on the large fence surrounding the stables.

"Going to check the snares?" Carl called to his dad, who was walking up to where we were.

"I am. You're not," Rick answered his son, "Do your chores. Read comics. Maybe some books, too. Hang out with Patrick."

I looked up from the saddle I was cleaning and said to Rick, "What am I? Chopped liver?"

He gave me a smirk and told Carl again, "Hang out with Patrick."

I rolled my eyes, "Typical," and went back to cleaning to saddle.

Rick continued, "Maybe go to story time."

Chills went down my back as Rick said that.

Story time? Carl?

Crap.

I tried not to look suspicious as Rick sent a gaze my way.

"Dad, that's for kids," Carl answered dismissively, and my posture relaxed. Good.

"Alyssa goes to story time, she's not complaining," Rick countered.

"Correction: Alyssa works at story time," I challenged playfully, trying to ease the tension buildup in me.

Rick looked at me, "Not helping."

"Not trying to!" I answered in a sing-song voice.

The cop-turned-farmer rolled his eyes at me and patted the horse, "You two, brush her down," and walked away from us, talking to Hershel.

"I want to brush her this time," I told Carl, running from the saddle and instead to the charcoal brown horse, petting its mane.

"You brushed her last time!" Carl complained.

"Yeah, and I'm brushing her again. Deal with it," I gave him a wink as I hopped in and grabbed a brush hanging from a rusty nail in the wall, then went to the horse itself and groomed her. Carl laid against the stable wall, an open comic from my mom in his hands, a chocolate bar hanging out of his front pocket. I smiled at him; he seemed to be enjoying himself.

After I finished grooming the horse, I set the brush back in the rusty nail on the wall, joining Carl and leaning against the wall.

He raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence, acting like I wasn't planning anything.

"You have the look," he answered, lowering the comic from his eyes, holding it in one hand.

"What look?" I furrowed my brows, a playful glint in my eye.

"The look," Carl repeated.

"Oh, that clears everything up," I rolled my eyes at him, giving him a smirk.

"The look that says you have something planned," he tried to explain. "You're going to do something. What is it?"

I gave him another grin and drawled out, "I don't knoowwww," and brought my hand up to push back my hair.

And, three. Two. One.

I yanked the chocolate bar out of his front pocket, running as fast as I could away from him.

"Hey!" he shouted to me. "Alyssa!"

I laughed gleefully as I ran, my delicious trophy gleaming in my hands. I could hear his feet pounding the ground behind me, so I continued my run up to the courtyard, where he and I gained the attention of others.

I ran and ran until there was suddenly a person in front of me.

"Patrick!" I breathed, panting and shoving the bar into his hands, "Take this. Guard it with your life."

"I- wah?" he questioned as I continued running to an empty picnic table, crouching behind it.

Carl ran to Patrick and managed to pant out, "Where is she? Alyssa?"

"She- uh," Patrick scratched the back of his head with his free hand. "Alyssa went- she ran-"

"She gave you the bar!" Carl exclaimed, wrenching it out of Patrick's sweaty palm. "Thank you."

"Nice guarding it," I said to the coughing kid, and walked over to the two of them.

"I-" Patrick started, and I gave him a smile.

"I'm just joking, Patrick," I heard him sigh beneath his breath, and turned to Carl with an open hand. "I'll have that back now, thanks."

"Nuh uh, not happening," he shook his head. "My chocolate."

Patrick coughed, and we turned towards him. He gave a sheepish smile and left, saying he was getting a drink of water.

"Please?" I gave the cowboy a pleading look, and he shook his head again, "Please?"

He thought for a moment, "On one condition."

"What condition?" I asked him, seeing him make that devilish smirk that I love.

He pointed to his cheek, grinning.

"You are so cheesy, you know?" I rolled my eyes, walking towards him.

"I know," he nodded. "I don't care."

I closed the space in between us, wrapping my arms on his neck. My lips pressed against his sweaty cheek, giving him a kiss. Then the other cheek. And finally, his lips, which lingered longer than the others. His arms wrapped around my waist, hands pressing firmly against the small of my back, and mine fingered through his hair, which had grown considerably the last few months.

We pulled apart, grinning at each other while Carl unwrapped the chocolate bar in his hands. He broke the chocolate in half and handed me a piece. I thanked him, taking a large bite out of the sweet, savory goodness.

I heard a coughing sound behind us, and turned to look. It was Patrick, holding a half full bottle of water in one hand. The other held a soccer ball.

"I was wondering if you two wanted to play?" he asked us in his squeaky, insecure voice, "Unless, you have other plans, then I guess I'll just-"

"We'll play," Carl's voice interrupted, and Patrick gave a wide grin in return.

"Actually, you two can go play," I answered Patrick. "I'm supposed to go set up story time."

"Okay," Patrick nodded and coughed, "See you later, miss."

"Yeah, see you later," I waved to him and Carl as I walked to the door.

"Wait," Carl called and walked up to me quickly, "You're seriously going to story time?"

My heart beat slightly faster, "Yeah. I like to hang out with the kids. It's fun."

"If you say so," he murmured under his breath, "See you later."

I continued walking into cell block C, glad that Carl didn't ask any more questions about story time. He'd be royally pissed off if he knew what really happened there.

I took a short stride into my cell. It was still shared by Beth, which I liked. She was a close friend of mine, and we kept it that way. Currently she was watching over Judith in the little daycare center we have, most likely singing her heart out to the young baby.

I looked into the top drawer of my dresser, grabbing the long knife that I kept with me since the beginning of all this, and headed to the library to where Carol was. She had a small stack of books by her side, ranging in color, sophistication, and length. Underneath the table I saw the large box that Carol and I sit atop on during story time. It held all of the weapons for the day, whatever it'll be. Today, knives. Tomorrow, maybe a Glock. The next, an axe? It holds weapons every day, but the innocent treasure chest design kept us from getting in trouble. No one but the people at story time knew what it really was.

Looking around to make sure I wasn't being watched, I opened the chest and threw my knife in there quickly, closing it while making a loud sound.

"What're we reading today, Carol?" I asked her, and she tossed me a small blue book with a flower on the cover.

As the kids grouped into the room, another adult walked into the room as well, as if to keep watch for us.

I gave them all a smile as Carol and I sat on the treasure chest, Carol opening the book in her small hands. Currently, the kids (Lizzie, Mika, Luke, Molly, and Patrick,) plus me, Carol, and the other adult, were in the room.

Carol began to read the book out loud to the kids, picking up from where we left off a few days ago, "The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away. Saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last. Saw the feeble flame rise and fall. Climb the thin tower of smoke..."

Carol continued to read as the other adult gave her the signal that he was going to leave. As soon as he has out the door, the book in Carol's hands was shut swiftly, and she and I slid to the floor.

She began to open the chest as Luke asked, "Ma'am, should I take watch now?"

She nodded to the kid, "Yes, Luke, you do that," and he stood and got up to the door, looking into the hallway briefly.

The case finally opened and Carol pulled out a small wooden box with the knives inside it, "Today, we are talking about knives. How to use them, how to be safe with them, and how they could save your lives."

I grabbed my personal knife from the pile, holding it up slightly to the light, "This one alone has saved my life so many times I can't even count. These are dangerous weapons, but used the correct way, they save the lives of many."

"Ma'am's, may I be dismissed?" Patrick asked us abruptly.

Setting my knife back on the showcase board, I raised an eyebrow at him as Carol asked, "What is it?"

"I'm not feeling very well."

"Sometimes you're gonna have to fight through it. What if you wind up out there alone? You just give up because you're feeling bad?"

"No, it's just, I-I," he stuttered slightly, "I don't want to yack on somebody."

Lizzie, on the ground in front of him, moved ever-so-slightly to the left.

"Go," Carol whispered, and Patrick hurriedly went to the door, past Luke, and left.

Carol moved the knife as she went through the lesson plan, "Today, we're gonna learn how to hold a knife, how to stab and slash and where to aim for..." She looked at a bookcase to her left. My eyes followed where hers did. I didn't like what I found.

Carl.

Staring right at me, wide eyes and a mix of confusion and anger in them. He moved just a step closer to where we were.

I couldn't speak for a second, my surprise and sadness mixing, but my lips managed to whisper his name, "Carl," out loud.

"Please," Carol told him, "Don't tell your father."

He shook his head at us, his curls waving as he walked the opposite direction and walked out the door.

Ohmygod.

Dammit!

I looked at Carol beside me, her eyes asking if I wanted to stay. I nodded to her, regaining movement as I grasped my knife in my hands.

You-you want to hold it like this," my shaky voice formed words as my hands showed the kids to grasp the knife's grip on the bottom, and how to lean in with it when fighting. How to twist it when killing a walker, how to yank it from the decaying skull when it did its job. I spoke them out loud, but in my head I was thinking of a million ways to explain to Carl what he just saw.


I found him an hour later in his cell, just after dusk, his eyes moving across comic book pages at an alarming rate. He was mad. Crap.

I knocked on the wall, and he looked up at me. Then he looked back at the comics.

"Carl," I said aloud, my voice almost echoing in the room.

"Go away," he whispered, turning a page in his comic book.

"No," I answered, walking through the doorway to his bed, which he was sitting on.

"Go away," he repeated, dashing his eyes around the pages and blatantly ignoring me.

"No," I replied again, sitting at the very edge of his bed, away from him. "We need to talk."

He slammed the comic book on his beside table, giving me a long, hard glare, "Yeah, we need to talk. What the HELL was that?!"

I grimaced at the venom lacing his words, and I felt bad. Really bad.

"Teaching them how to survive?" I answered like it was a question.

"That was against the council rules! You know that! Do you do that every story time?"

I tried to keep my voice leveled, but failed to, "Yes. We do."

His eyes at glared at me, his jaw clenching and he threw his legs to the edge of the bed, "You do. That's great. Just great."

"What were we supposed to do? You and I at least know how to use weapons. They don't stand a chance against what's out there! Lizzie almost died just a few weeks ago because a walker got in!"

"So? She's fine! She doesn't need training!" he raised his voice just a little more as he jumped off the bed and paced around his room.

"No, she's not," I stood up, looking at him as he stopped pacing, "That's when this started. Carol and I both agreed that the kids need more training. It was only one walker, Carl. ONE walker. Just imagine if it had been two. Or three. Or a whole HERD. They all would die. They need to know what they're up against, and how they take it down. They don't know shit, Carl. Why lead them to death when there's something we can do about it?" my breathing became ragged and shallow, my anger getting the best of me.

I heard him sigh, and I looked up at him. He was closer to me than before, "It's only been going on since the attack?"

I gave him a nod, "Yeah. 'Bout thirty days."

He wiped sweat off his forehead, giving me a long look, "Dad's not gonna like this."

"Don't tell him," I said instantly.

"You know I have to," he said softly, lightly grabbing my forearm.

I sighed, resting my forehead against his chest. "I know."

He slowly pulled us down to sit in his bed, the blankets thrown haphazardly to the other side. My ear, pressed against his chest, listened to the pounding of his heart, the steady rhythm calming me down. His chin rested against the top of my head. His arms were thrown against my sides, holding me close to him. My arms did the same to him; holding him close, my hands resting on his back.

We sat together for a short, quiet moment, just the two of us. Short and sweet, but of course it didn't last forever.

"I have to go," I whispered softly, kissing his cheek. "Beth'll want to know where I am."

It was rounding dusk, so it was just about curfew.

He nodded, "Okay," and released me from his arms. My body became instantly cold as his moved away from mine.

"Goodnight," I whispered.

"Goodnight," he repeated to me. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

I rolled my eyes at the silly saying as I left the room, heading to mine. Looking at the opening, I saw Daryl leaving my room.

I raised an eyebrow at him as I neared the room.

"Zach's dead," he whispered to me, and pointed to the door. "Had to tell Beth."

"Oh," my heart dropped at the news. Zach was a good person; he didn't deserve to die. "How'd she take it?"

Daryl shook his head, "Don't know. Seems fine, didn't cry. Keep an eye on her, though."

I gave him a nod, walking into my room, "Goodnight, Daryl."

He just grunted in response. Opening the curtain to my room, I saw Beth scribbling quickly into her diary.

"Hey," I greeted softly, looking at the sign that read, 'Zero Days Without an Accident.' This morning, it was at thirty. "Daryl told me the news. Are you okay?"

She gave me a nod of reassurance, setting the diary on our dresser, "I'm fine. I'm gonna miss him, but I'm glad I got to know him."

I gave her a small smile, "Okay. I'm here, if you need me."

She looked at me with kindness, and gave me a hug, "I know, but I'm fine. I swear."

I hopped onto the top bunk as she released me, getting into the brightly colored sheets. "If you say so. Goodnight, Beth."

"Sweet dreams," she replied, turning off the lamp in our room, leaving us in a comfortable darkness.


A/N: Hope you all liked it! Please review!