AN: Here we go, another little chapter here and we're getting into Alexandria some.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol almost felt claustrophobic, even though they were outside, because they had all gathered as close to each other as was really humanly possible while they waited outside the gates—outside the walls—of the community that they'd be going into.
Maybe after Terminus it was the only way that any of them could feel secure about walking into what might very well be some kind of trap, even though Carol didn't think it was a trap and she didn't think that anyone else was really inclined to believe it was either.
They'd all come on foot and they moved as a unit to allow for Aaron and Eric, riding in the car that apparently they'd been following them in at some distance, to pull up to the gates.
Upon their arrival, and their spilling out of the car, the gates were opened and other people appeared, inside, where they hadn't seemed to be only moments before.
"This is the group I told you about," Aaron said to one of the people. "We made contact with them last night. They offered to take us in. Gave us food for the night. They've come to do the interviews."
"Bring them in," the woman said. "Welcome—we'll talk when we're all safely inside. When the gates are closed."
Aaron and Eric passed inside, leaving the car where it was for the moment, and their whole group—still functioning as almost a single unit—passed inside.
"I'm Deanna Monroe," the woman said as soon as they were inside and two people, still unknown to all of them, were "closing up" the gates behind them. "I'm the leader of Alexandria. Welcome. I've heard about you."
"We ain't heard much about you," Merle barked out before anyone else had a chance to say a thing. It didn't matter, Carol thought that, at least at the moment, he was doing a pretty good job of speaking for all of them. Their body language, probably, should say the rest about how secure they were feeling about things at the moment.
Deanna Monroe—self-proclaimed leader of Alexandria—seemed unfazed by Merle. She offered them a politician's smile.
"I promise you'll know all there is to know soon," Deanna said. "All that you want to know. This," she said, gesturing, "is Olivia. She runs the storage and rations. We'll go with her to check your weapons. Then—we'll have a chance to talk? One at a time? And then we'll show you around. You can decide on places to live."
Before they could really ask any questions, she gestured for them to follow her. Carol, one hand on Sophia's shoulder as it had been since they came into the place, glanced at Daryl. He shrugged, his sign for basically saying that he didn't know any more than she did at the moment, and gestured for her to move forward with the rest of them.
"We have everything you might want here in Alexandria," she said as they walked, talking behind her like she was giving them a tour. "We have schools for the children. We have daycares. We give out rations for the food and there's something of a free store for other goods picked up on runs. I think you'll find…there really isn't anything you'll want that isn't here, but if there is…we're always open to suggestions."
They didn't get very far before Deanna stopped them, along with Oivia, in front of a place where several other people were waiting, a large wagon of sorts resting there, and spoke again.
"You'll leave your weapons here," she said.
"I don't think so," Abraham said quickly, speaking for all of them. "We're not abandoning our weapons."
"They'll be inventoried," Deanna said. "They'll be marked with your names. You can check them out when you want—if you need them—but nobody carries firearms within the walls. I assure you, they'll be safe."
"It ain't them being safe we're concerned about," Daryl offered.
One of the men that was there, apparently to help move the wagon in question, moved to take the guns from them and reached, putting some effort into taking Sadie's gun out of her hands since she was the closest to him.
And since nobody had quite explained to Sadie what was happening, she reacted the only way that she seemed to know how at the moment. She yelled something at him that nobody could fully understand, snatched her rifle back, and offered him a hard knee to the balls in exchange.
Carol cringed for the man, who hit his knees almost immediately, but she also cringed for them—this was how they were going to start their stay in Alexandria—of course, that was if they were even going to be asked to stay.
Merle pulled Sadie back, as though he thought the man that was glued to the ground or any of the others might retaliate against her.
"You don't snatch shit from Sadie," Merle barked. "Not without 'plainin' why it is, exactly, you had you a mind to take it in the first place."
Deanna wore an expression of surprise for a moment, but immediately it melted back into the same saccharine smile as before.
"Well," she said, drawing the word out a little longer than she had to, "we've got housing for…people…too with special needs. We have a few here. We take care of those who can't take care of themselves."
"Ask him if she can't take care of her own damn self," Merle responded with a chuckle, gesturing toward the man on the ground. "She stays with me."
Deanna's smile fell and then quickly returned.
"I expect that you'll explain to her that, here in Alexandria, we don't condone violence. We're a peaceful community—hence there's no need for weapons. You'll surrender your weapons? Then we can get the interviews underway?" Deanna said.
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Daryl paced around inside the house. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel normal. Before all of this? He'd have never had reason to set foot inside a house this nice. He'd have never been allowed inside one without having some handyman job to do there. Since all of this? He'd stayed in houses every bit as nice as this one, but he'd stayed there with the ghosts of those who had owned the place before he'd come—before hell had come.
Now, though, he was standing in this nice house and he was supposed to be undergoing some kind of interview to decide if he could stay—if his family could stay.
And he felt uncomfortable because he was uncomfortable. And he felt uncomfortable because he wanted to be comfortable. Or, at the very least, he wanted to seem comfortable enough to be asked to stay. Because he didn't want them saying that he had to go. He didn't want to be the one to mess this up for anybody else.
Just outside, somewhere with the rest of them, Carol was waiting for her turn. She was waiting for him to come out and stay with Sophia—the only one not being forced to undergo some kind of interview—while she took her turn telling this woman whatever it was she wanted to know.
"Daryl? Daryl Dixon, right?" Deanna asked.
Daryl turned, noticed the woman was finally done doing whatever the hell it was that she'd been doing, fooling around with some camera, and nodded at her.
"Have a seat?" She asked, gesturing toward a leather arm chair that Daryl almost hated to sit in because he was acutely aware of how dirty he was. "You can sit—I won't bite. Do you mind if I film?"
He shook his head slightly, observed the chair, and then finally sat down in it. She took her seat, across a coffee table, on a couch—just behind the camera that was recording him, a camera that would record everything he said, everything that everyone said, and would keep any mistakes they might make for prosperity.
"You're the leader of this group?" The woman asked.
"We all in this together," Daryl responded, staring uncomfortably at the camera.
"This isn't a test," Deanna said. "You can relax."
Daryl chewed at his cuticle.
"Can I smoke?" He asked.
"I'd prefer you didn't," Deanna responded.
He hummed.
"Then I reckon I don't smoke," he mumbled.
"You're all in this together, but you're something of a leader?" Deanna asked.
Daryl stared at her and sighed.
"I guess," he said. "I guess you could say that."
"Did you appoint yourself or—how did you come to have such a role within this group?" She asked.
Daryl stared at her and shrugged.
"Just happened," he said. "Shit happens—that weren't no different. But—I don't make no decisions I don't talk to everyone else."
"You and your wife and daughter," Deanna said. "Where did you—begin your trip?"
Daryl stared at her, not quite sure how to respond to that. Carol technically wasn't his wife. And Sophia technically wasn't his daughter. But then, the woman didn't ask him that. She just assumed that—and she didn't ask him to correct her wrong assumptions. She just asked him to answer her questions.
And her question wasn't about his marriage—or about his family. Her question was about where they started.
He cleared his throat.
"We—uh—started out in Georgia," Daryl said. "Come—here—from Georgia."
"How long have you known everyone else?" Deanna asked.
"Depends on who the hell you askin' about," Daryl said, shifting around in his chair.
"Why don't you tell me," Deanna said, "a little about what has happened to you? Since the beginning of all of this? Just—tell me your story?"
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"Where do you think you'll fit in best, in Alexandria?" Deanna asked.
Carol swallowed and considered the question.
The whole time that others had been going, she'd been wondering what she might be asked. Those that had gone before her had come out reporting a number of different kinds of questions. It seemed that none of them had been asked exactly the same thing. Things varied from person to person.
Melodye had a goal to figure out what they were asking each person and why they were choosing the questions that they were, but Carol didn't know if there was really any rhyme or reason behind it.
Regardless of the questions, though, she knew that she was going to be terrified to answer any of them—most of them were. It wasn't a test, they said, but it felt like it was.
"I don't know," Carol said. "I guess—I'm something of a chameleon? I fit—where I need to fit. I go where I need to go. I'm—I'm something of a jack of all trades."
Deanna smiled. Carol mirrored her smile. The woman looked somewhat satisfied with the response.
"Tell me a little about your life before this," Deanna said. "Your marriage to Daryl? Your home life? What kind of work did you do?"
Carol felt a catch.
She wasn't married to Daryl. Not really. She'd never been married to him. She'd never known him before all this. Her life before all of this wasn't really a pretty picture to paint for anyone. She had done well, actually, to think of Ed and her life before all of this as little as possible.
But that wasn't what Deanna asked.
So Carol did the best she could, for the moment, and thought about the question that the woman had asked. She thought about what it was that she might want to know. And she tried, as best she could, to imagine what her life would have been like if she had been married to Daryl before all of this.
"Well…" Carol said. "I was a homemaker. I kept—I kept things nice. My home…I mean. I kept a nice home. I had supper on the table, every day, when…my husband…got home from work. And—Sophia—I took care of her, of course. She always did well in school. She was such a great child. She still is—she's just…she's really adapting to this world. It hasn't been easy for her. It hasn't been easy for any of us, but she's really adapting well. We all are."
Deanna smiled.
"And your husband?" Deanna asked.
Carol paused. So far, she hadn't exactly lied. She hadn't exactly told the truth, but she hadn't lied.
"Daryl? Your husband?" Deanna prompted with Carol's silence.
"Daryl's just—he's just the best kind of man," Carol said. "He's so—kind and considerate. He really makes me—every day I just feel special with Daryl. There's…there's so much love there. And Sophia? He's really such an amazing father. He takes up so much time with her and he works with her—he's really focused on helping her survive this."
"You only have Sophia?" Deanna asked, smiling and clearly pleased with Carol's responses thus far. "No other children?"
Carol shook her head.
"No," she said. "We weren't—we haven't been blessed with any other children. Just our Sophia. But—she's the most wonderful gift I could have in my life. And—I know that, to Daryl, she's just—she's so important to him."
"Would you like something working with children?" Deanna asked. "Something teaching? Or—a position in the kitchens? Working for the group meals? Maybe—helping with rations might be your ideal kind of position?"
Carol smiled as widely as she could and shrugged.
"Put me where you need me," she said. "I'm very flexible. I just—really aim to please."
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AN: So I've of course got a good deal planned from here, there's no worry about that, but I wanted your opinions. Since I am very flexible (like Carol), I could also do some of the interviews with the others, just as "extra" or "bonus" material here for entertainment, or I can leave them out. Let me know if you have a particular interest, one way or another. I'm open for suggestions there.
