A/N: Hey guys, just a few quick notes. This is my first attempt at fanfic, so constructive criticism is nice, but please be nice :)
It's a little weird how I have set up the story, every second chapter is going to be a flashback. Those chapters are going to be based around my OC's arc with The Governor set in the time frame of 'TWD' seasons 1-4. Every other chapter is from where season 3 left off. Enjoy!
P.S-Shout out to my beta Calcifer179. Much love bro!

1.

I sit with my head resting on the window, feeling the glass vibrate my teeth. The old bus jolts forward and I suppress a groan as my face hits the window pane. Can Tyreese not handle stick?
Sasha turns to give me a comforting smile, which I return with little enthusiasm.
Glancing at her I remember the conversation we had had not an hour ago;
"We'll be safe with Rick. We'll be protected", she had reassured me as I helped old Mr Evans up the bus' steps, "You will be okay".

I'm so far from okay. So many thoughts are clouding my mind and I twist my hands in my lap, trying not to cry. Where is Philip? Why did he leave me?
I'm definitely not going to ask these questions out loud, most here are grieving for their loved ones. The loved ones he killed.
Inhale. Exhale. Aw shit.
I can't stop the tear as it rolls down my face and pools at my lip. I lick the salt water away and focus on my hands once more.
The bus is packed, my leg pressing firmly against Sasha's. We're blocked in our seats by the men, children and bags littering the aisle; everyone is sweating profusely, having previously given up trying to open the windows.
The muscles in Tyreese's broad back tense up as he drives. A dark, stone building, well actually lots of dark, stone buildings and high metal gates loom before us.
A prison? Seriously? I sigh heavily. Like Hell I am living here.

I pause to stretch my legs before standing, as the bus pulls to a stop. I'm not tall, not by a long way, so it's not for lack of leg room, but the bus was so damn crowded and my muscles are cramping. I stick to Sasha like glue, nudging her with my bag and urging her to move forward.
"Throw me your bags Lily", Tyreese calls out and he grunts as he catches them. So sue me, I don't pack light.
Supporting Eileen, who is carrying her baby, as she steps off the bus, I try to avoid the looks some of the prison residents are throwing my way. I get stared at under the best of circumstances, and right now it doesn't help that I am a complete stranger to them all AND look the way I do.
Reboarding the bus I take a quick look around.
"Got everything?" My eyes light on the dark haired man, peering up the bus steps at me. I take in his cop uniform, a little worse for wear, the stubble on his chin, his bright blue stare. This must be Rick.
I have seen him before, but never this close.
"We're good Sheriff", I reply, perhaps a little stiffly. Easy Lil, play nice.
He nods and returns back to the prison courtyard. I watch as he goes to stand by a young boy in an oversized sheriff's hat.
Sasha is standing with my bags, pointing people in the direction of the cell block that I assume is our new 'home'.
"Hey girl, you okay?" she asks, a slight look of sympathy flashing across her face. I look down at my boots, my lower lip quivers.
"Yeah Sash, yeah I'm fine."
"You don't have to be scared. Rick is good, these people are good. They helped Tyreese and I before and they'll help us all now."
"I thought Rick went psycho and kicked you guys out?" I glance back up at her; she shakes her head and sighs.
"He seems alright now hon, don't think about it. By the way, your bags weigh a tonne! Did you pack all of Woodbury in here?"

I snort and rake my fingers through my long hair. I wish. I wish I could stay in Woodbury.
"Come on", I mutter, "Let's get this over with."

"Don't get comfy here", Rick says, already emphasising his stance as 'leader', "This cell block is not your permanent home. At first light we will help you clear out another one; you can make it your own. We are going to talk about your roles here, I expect everyone to pull their weight".
I watch the worried glances being exchanged between a few of our elderly members and the mothers with children. We aren't a big group, but all we have done is add 20 or so less than able bodied members to Rick's already ragtag team, more mouths to feed.
"I understand not many of you are fit or in your prime. That's okay. There is plenty you can do to help".
I am not really paying attention to what he is ranting about. I don't really care what they assign me to do, I'm less handy than most here and I won't be happy about it no matter what.
Rick's group is all gathered together, the cell block is packed full with the addition of us, but I take the opportunity to look at the strangers.
A white haired man, leaning on crutches, stands to Rick's left side. He is bearded and I guess late 60s, kinda like a thin Santa Clause. Except I don't remember Santa ever having one leg.
The girl next to him is blonde, maybe 17? She cradles a baby in her arms. I strain forward a bit, over the head of Angela seated in front of me on a camp chair, to get a better look. Babies I like, I can handle babies.
A young couple stand behind Santa and Blondie. I can assume they are a couple; their body language is making that pretty clear. The guy is Asian, young, with hair slicked back and a large rifle balanced against his thigh. The girl is brunette and pretty, she too holds a big gun. They are observing our group with curious eyes and not a small amount of fear.
I can see the kid in the sheriff's hat, Rick's son I guess. He is also packing heat. Shit even the child has a gun! Am I going to get a gun? I brush the thought off.
When my eyes drift over to the next face my jaw drops as I take in the ebony skin and muscular build. Wow, Michonne. I just assumed she was dead. When she had left Woodbury and not returned it seemed a likely that she was long gone. Although, she was tough, clearly tough. Her sword still hadn't left her side I observed. What was it she had called it? A katana?
Michonne scares the crap out of me, but a familiar presence is pretty welcome actually. She catches me staring at her and recognition is obvious in her eyes.
On Rick's right side stands a worn looking woman, I can't guess her age. Her face is fine, and quite pretty, but her hair is short and grey and her posture stooped. She is weaponless I am somewhat happy to note. The guy next to her intimidates me from first glance. He is tall and well built, a shirtless flannel displaying some pretty impressive upper arms. It is too hard to properly see the colour of his dirty looking hair, the prison is dimly lit, but I can see the medieval looking weapon in his hands, a crossbow that looks like it weighs about as much as I do. He is scowling and for a moment he looks very familiar.
Eileen places a hand gently on my shoulder and squeezes. The contact is comforting and I lean back into her palm. I tune back into Rick's words and hearing Philip's title, The Governor, makes me stand to attention.
"The Governor is gone, but he will be back before we know it, maybe with a stronger, more dangerous force. The slaughter of our friends and family will not go unpunished. Until then, all we can do is rebuild."

A little later I find myself walking through the paved courtyard surrounding the buildings. There are lots of fences here, lots of closed off areas. I'd never been in a prison before, even if with all the prisoners dead and gone it is pretty terrifying. Sasha and Tyreese are standing with Sheriff Rick and the man with the crossbow, deep in conversation. I hesitate, contemplating a quick getaway back toward the cell block, but I see Sasha gesture towards me and the three men glance up. She hurries over and takes my hand.
"Come on Lil, no time like the present."
She practically drags me over to the huddled group. Tyreese offers me a small smile or acknowledgment and Rick nods his head. The other man, whose hair I can now see is a darkish brown, looks me up and down. His gaze is not friendly and he sneers slightly at my denim cut offs and tight fitting blouse. I guess my attire isn't 'apocalypse chic'.
Wrapping my arms around myself I let Sasha make introductions to Rick and Daryl, the stranger's name now revealed. Daryl Dixon. As in Merle Dixon's brother Daryl? The thought makes me register that I hadn't spotted the big redneck since my arrival and knowing he would have made his presence obvious to me that can really only mean one thing…
"Merle! Is Merle Dixon here?" I ask before I can think my question through. Daryl's blue eyes widen in surprise, and he gives me the once over again, with marginally less disdain.
"Nah, he ain't here. He's gone."
"I'm sorry, you're his brother right?" I pause for his nod, "He mentioned you to me a couple of times. I thought I recognised you! I was there that night at the arena…"
Rick clears his throat and I shut up, looking down quickly. The tops of my boots and I are getting pretty well acquainted nowadays.
"Lily", Rick says softly and I glance up from under my lashes, "Sasha says you were close with The Governor. You can understand why that concerns us. I don't want there to be any negativity here, we all need to work together. I need to know that you are on our side, I need you to help us". There is a desperate tone to his voice and I can tell that this has been worrying him since I arrived.
I wave my hand dismissively and shrug.
"It's fine. He left me. He did those things. I don't have to like it, but I don't doubt his guilt. Team Prison all the way. I uh…I need protection." Tyreese is nodding along to my words and Sasha reaches for my hand again.
"You knew The Governor a long time?" Rick's voice is deeply Southern, but gentle. He doesn't sound angry, or even scared, but he doesn't sound happy, not by a mile.
I nodded, knowing that Daryl is still staring me down.
"Yeah, a long time, well before all this began. I used to babysit his daughter, Penny. He is…was…He looked after me. He kept me safe."
Daryl snorts and I raise my eyes to meet him. There is a lot he wants to say, it's apparent he thinks little of me. I glare back.
"We can keep you safe here, but you need to tell us all you know about The Governor. Your insight into him may prove helpful," Rick says, smiling thinly.
"I never thought Philip was someone capable of the things he has done," I sigh, "I still struggle to believe it…"