Blaire

"Why do you want to be here, Blaire?" Deanna sits on a couch, a camera set up behind her. She's got one leg crossed over the other, hands resting on her knee. Her gaze is set on me and something in the look she's giving me makes me uncomfortable. It's like I've been arrested and she's the officer sent in to interrogate me, only she knows more about my crime than I do. Everything I can think up to say just seems like the wrong answer.

Pushing back the curtain, I peer out at the street. A woman pushing a stroller waves to a man across the sidewalk. They both look too clean, their clothes absent of any stains or tears, their hair is washed, faces clean of dirt. Letting the sheer material fall away from my grasp, I turn around to face the woman in charge. Walking forward, I lean down, resting my forearms on the back of badly patterned armchair. "I don't want to be here, Deanna, I need to be. This isn't a world where you can be on your own anymore. Sure, you can survive, but you forget what it's like to…to be a human being. I need this place to hold onto that little shred of humanity that I have left, to let it grow. But I don't think you actually care about that. I think what you're really trying to figure out if this place needs someone like me. So let's just cut the formalities and get right to it, shall we?"

Deanna looks taken aback by my bluntness. Her bottom jaw opens and closes as if she's struggling to find something to say. When she can't her mouth closes, the edges tugged down into a frown. Deanna lets out a long sigh, crossing and uncrossing her legs. I stand, circling around the armchair before walking towards the bookshelves, picking one up and flipping through it before placing it down on a glass side table. For a moment Deanna and I just stare at each other, neither fully trusting the other.

"I can fight. I've lived out in the world since this thing happened. I've got a drive to protect people. I can go on runs for food. I mean I brought all that stuff back with me, restocked supplies you were out of. I'm sure I look a little rugged. I do believe your man called me feral, which I'm sure, was true at the time. I can work for my place here."

Deanna nods, "Yes, I can see that. Can you get along well with others though? I spoke to Daryl and he says you had a group. None of them survived?"

"I led a group of eleven from Baltimore Maryland to about seventy miles away from here. Up until we arrived in this area, all of them were alive. I lost one to a rather nasty version of the flu. The living or the dead took out the rest. Before that group I was part of a group of five headed to a safe-zone in Washington DC. I left them after the group leader suggested we start killing and eating other people. People are a scarce commodity and I fully believe we need to keep them alive, the good ones at least."

"You've killed people before." It's a statement. Deanna knows. Maybe it's in the way I carry myself, maybe someone told her. Deanna's gaze shifts from the floor back to me.

"Four. Two where members of a group that attacked my camp, the W's or whatever they call themselves. One was a man I met early on. The last was the man who gave me this cut. I'm sure you want me to say I regret it and that I think I could've handled the situations differently, but I don't and I don't see a point in lying."

"I appreciate the honesty," Deanna answers. "I'm going to let you stay, see how you integrate to the people here while you see our doctor and recover from your injuries. If you don't cause any trouble I'll find you a job here."

"And if do cause trouble?"

Deanna's piercing blue eyes come to rest on me. "Daryl will put you back where he found you. While you're here we'll give you a house to live in. You will be allowed to use our provisions. That animal of yours can stay as long as you keep it under control. The first time it causes problems it'll have to go. Go find Aaron, he'll get you situated in a home."

Nodding, I turn and head towards the doorway, only stopping as my fingers curl around the doorknob, "Deanna, I'm not going to make Daryl bring me back. I'm gonna show you I belong here."

Deanna gives me a small smiles, "I hope so. Have a good night, Blaire."

Daryl

"And you thought bringing her in was a good idea?" Rick questions as we sit on his porch. He's got Judith on his knee, bouncing her up and down as she chews on the lid of a coffee can. "You know Deanna is goin' hold you personally responsible if she does anything stupid."

"Yeah," I answer, stretching my legs out over the porch railing, leaning against the pillar. "She ain't gonna be a problem, Rick. She's just scared and hurt. That cut she has is bad. It won't heal without a doctor."

"She's your responsibility, Daryl. I'm still not sure about these people and I can't keep an eye on her and them. You said Aaron didn't want to bring her here. What was his reason? Why didn't you just listen to him?"

"Said she looked feral. We found her all dirty and covered in blood. She looked like we did when he found us. I couldn't leave her, not how she was. She's steps away from losing it. She needs people."

"Not everyone can be saved, Daryl," Rick answers back his eyes shifting in the direction of the house next to us.

"This one can be." With that I lower myself off the porch railing and onto the grass. If Rick doesn't want to accept my decision to bring Blaire in that's on him. "Just give 'er a chance."

"Daryl!" Rick calls after me. For a second I think about ignoring him, but then decide against it. He's taking longer than the rest of us to adjust to this place and he needs to know that we're all still on his side, no matter what. "Bring her over for dinner. Carol's gonna make some more casserole."

Nodding, I head across the grass towards Aaron's house. I've not had a chance to talk to him since I made him leave me out in the woods. I want to make sure that things between us are all right. This job I've been given lets me keep up my survival skills and gives me an excuse to be outside the walls on a regular basis. I don't wanna lose that over this thing with Blaire. Knocking on the door, I wait for Aaron to open. He smiles when he sees me, inviting me inside. I accept, stepping through the doorway and following him into the living room, taking up a seat at the table.

"Deanna already talk to the girl you brought back?" Aaron starts.

"Yeah," I begin chewing on the inside of my lip. "Rick wants to have her over for dinner tonight."

"She's in the house across the street, with the red front door. Look Daryl – "

I cut him off, "Sorry I didn't listen to you back in the woods. She's gonna be all right though."

Aaron nods, folding his hands together on the table, "I should've trusted your judgment. I asked you to help me recruit people because of your ability to tell the good ones from the bad. Questioning you…I apologize. I just, I don't want to bring someone in just to have to send them away. I'm sure she's going to be an asset to our community here."

"Yeah." Getting up from the chair, I head towards the door.

"Daryl," Aaron calls after me. "We're going to be heading out again in a week or so."

Nodding, I pull the front door open, stepping back out into the sun. Up the street sits Blaire's house. She's sitting on the steps, her cat lying out on the grass. The brunette spoons a chunky white mixture straight from a container into her mouth. She smiles when she sees me, putting the spoon into her food. The cut across her face is now stitched up, some gauze covering the section above her eyes. "Deanna is letting me stay."

"Aaron said. Hey, Rick wants you to come by for dinner."

Blaire raises up her container, the spoon falling out and landing on the sidewalk. She frowns, picking it up and wiping it off on her pants. "I already ate. Thanks for the offer though."

Letting out a sigh, I walk forward, taking a seat on the step below Blaire. She glances over at me. "Look, the offer ain't up for negotiation. He isn't sure about you. It'd be good for both of us if you just came by."

Blaire stands, thumbs hooking into her front pockets. "And why should I care if Rick is sure about me or not? I'm not here to impress. So you can go back and tell him that I'm not coming. If he wants to introduce himself, I'll be right here cause I ain't got nowhere else to go."

I smirk as Blaire uses my words against me, motioning for her to sit back down. Once she does I drop my voice to a whisper, "One day, Rick's gonna run this place. These people ain't gonna last long under Deanna. You'd best be on the right side of things when shit hits the fan." Standing, I extend a hand to Blaire. "Now, how 'bout that dinner?"

Blaire glances at my hand before standing up, letting out three sharp whistles. The lynx that was lying out in the sun, hurries over to her, wrapping itself around her leg. "I'm going to shower first, ya know, make myself look presentable. This Rick character is obviously some kind of hot shot around here and I'd hate for him to see me looking like this." With that she turns around and disappears back into her house.

"Ungrateful," I mumble. Her and Rick aren't gonna get along if she doesn't lose the attitude.

Blaire

Hot water runs over my skin, collection in a muddy puddle by my feet. I stopped showering after Patricia. I couldn't risk being that vulnerable without someone to take watch. My hair, made stiff with sweat and dirt, begins to feel soft and malleable as I work another round of shampoo and conditioner through it. I stand under the water longer than I need to, breathing in the steam and the gentle lavender scent of the soap. I rub my legs together, enjoying the smooth, just shaved feeling. Duke, who refused the bath I tried to give him, sits on the sink, staring at me from his side of the glass shower door. He's made himself more than comfortable here, taking up residency in the bedroom just across the hall. He came right in and crawled straight onto the bed.

I'm taking longer. After Aaron and I exchanged some rather forced conversation and he left me to my own devices I sat on the kitchen counter for hours, unable to make myself accept that this is where I live now. It isn't the house aspect; I've taken up residence in those plenty of times before coming here. Everything here is so clean. There isn't any evidence of the people who lived here before me. This place, Alexandria, its too clean…too rehearsed. Sitting on the marble countertop of the kitchen, I fought the urge to dirty the place up. This is my home now, I eventually told myself, I need to take care of it.

As I get out of the shower, I think about Daryl's threat. That's what it was, a threat. I am to go to Rick's. I can either prove myself or accept the fate of being considered no better than these people who can't accept the reality of the world we live in now. There are no other options, no way of getting out of or around it. That is how Daryl's group functions; you're either with them or against them. I guess that's how you survive now. For a few minutes I sit on the bed, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel wondering what would happen if I just got up and left. In the end I get up, pull back on the same jeans I arrived in and a soft blue t-shirt found in the top drawer of a dark wooden dresser pushed against the same wall as the hall door.

"Good as it's going to get, buddy," I mumble to Duke after drying my hair the best I can with my towel.

Before I leave I place another gauze pad over the section of my cut above my eye. The doctor, Pete, a blonde man who smelled too strongly of beer, stitched me up before I went to talk with Deanna. He didn't say much, just went about his business, instructing me to keep the top portion covered seems as it was the deepest section and would be more susceptible to infection. I left the infirmary with a baggie full of white gauze pads and a handful of little pink pain pills. The stiches make it hard to blink or chew or smile but I was assured I'd only have to keep them in for a week at most. It could be worse.

Aaron gave me a set of house keys, but as I shut the red front door, I leave them in my pocket. Nothing in there belongs to me. I had to turn over the guns I came in with and my knife isn't anything special. The only weapon I care about, a double-headed ax, is tucked up in the hall closet behind some blankets. If someone wants something inside this house they can have it.

I walk up the street, loose gravel from the road crunching under my boots. Aaron told me that Daryl and his group only live four houses away from his. At the time I didn't care, content on being left alone for the rest of the night. Now that I need the information, I'm glad I have it. I don't want to have to use Aaron as a source of information. I also don't want to just go wandering around this place. As I near Rick's, a simple white house with a front porch and a yellow front door, Daryl falls into step with me.

"Ya ready?"

I glance over at the bowman. He's also taken a shower and changed into a long sleeve shirt and black jeans. His hair is still damp, leaving a few wet drops on his shoulders. "I've not been given much of a choice."

Daryl turns, blocking my path. He glowers down at me, chest heaving. "Look here, Blaire. I didn't have to bring you here. You should be a grateful. Rick is a good guy; the people we're with are good people. It'll be better for you if they like you."

"No," I shake my head, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Let's not lie to each other, Daryl. It'll be better for you if they like me, isn't that right? Now, get out of my way, stop making threats, and lets go have some dinner."

As Daryl steps to the side I brush past him, keeping ahead of him as I walk up the steps of Rick's house. The dark haired man glares at me, obviously unhappy with me uncovering his little secret. He might think I'm weak now, but he won't for much longer. I'm good at fading into the background and observing people when necessary. Daryl went against Aaron's wishes and now he's in the hot seat. If I don't work out here it's on him; Deanna made that very clear in my interview.

Knocking on the front door I stand, chewing on my top lip as I wait for someone to answer. Eventually, it's pulled open, revealing a longhaired boy wearing a blue flannel. He eyes me before stepping out of the way and letting me enter the house, "Dad! Daryl and that girl are here."

A clean shaved man with a baby on his hip walks around the corner. A thick southern accent coats his words as he gives me a smile, "Carl, finish setting the table. I'm Rick Grimes."

"Blaire," I answer back, smiling at the little blonde who has taken Rick's finger and began sucking on it. "What's her name?"

"Ass-kicker," Daryl mumbles as he passes me, heading towards the kitchen where Carl and a woman with dreadlocks are gathered.

I let out a laugh, quickly trying to disguise it as a cough as Rick glances at me, his eyes narrowing. He glances over his shoulder at Daryl who shrugs, feigning innocence. "Her name's Judith."

"She's cute."

Rick gives me a nod before motioning for me to follow him into the kitchen. It looks used, a few stains on the white counter tops as well as dishes piled up in the sink waiting for someone to have enough time to clean them. This place feels lived in which calms my nerves. These are people just like me. We're all just trying to adjust to a life we thought we'd left behind. "This is Michonne and you met Carl at the door. The rest should be over sometime soon. Carol is bringing a casserole."

I smile at Michonne, extending my hand for her to shake. She glances at it for a second before reaching forward and curling her fingers around mine. "I'm Blaire."

As we drop hands a group of people push through the front door. Two men, one with red hair cut short and another with a mullet, and a woman in a flower print cardigan holding a white dish. The dish is set on the middle of the table as those who just arrived sit down, beginning to chat with each other as the front door swings open again, this time revealing a man and woman who appear to be a couple. They've brought cookies. By the time everyone is situated around the table there are twelve. I sit on a stool against the bar, plate in hand, silently going through everyone's names. Carol. Glenn and Maggie who are married. Rick. Michonne. Carl, who is Rick's son. Abraham. Eugene. Rosita. Tara. Noah.

"Sorry 'bout earlier." Daryl mumbles from his spot on my left. He's been keeping an eye on me all night. Although I think I've been doing an all right job at connecting with these people, his stony gaze still makes me uncomfortable. I don't like feeling as if I'm under constant scrutiny.

"Don't worry about it. How am I doing so far? Think I'll be on the right side of things?" I answer back, keeping my voice low. I have a feeling no one else in this group knows that Daryl shared the plan to take over Alexandria. I'm sure he wants to keep it that way.

Daryl takes a bite of his casserole, chewing slowly before answering me. "You're doin' fine."

"I'm going to go get some air." Placing my plate on the counter I give Rick a nod before slipping out onto the porch. As I shut the door I notice a dark haired female sitting in one of the rocking chairs. She looks up, giving me a warm smile. "Rosita?"

The woman laughs. "Tara."

"Damn," I answer back with a smile before taking the seat next to her. "There's so many of you. I swear I won't mess it up again."

Tara shrugs, "Did you get overwhelmed?"

"A little. I just want to make a good impression, ya know. There's just more people in that room than I've seen in months. I kind of feel like I've forgotten how to socialize. Dinner parties just seem – " I trail off, trying to find the right word.

"Weird?" Tara offers up. "I know. Everything's weird at first. It gets easier, more normal."

"How long have you been here for?"

"Maybe like a month. It feels like only a few days."

"Daryl told me that these people don't get it," I admit wanting another person's opinion.

Tara nods. "I don't think too many of them have killed let alone seen a walker."

Nodding, I begin to pick at a scab on my thumb, occasionally looking up, keeping an eye on my surroundings. I'm waiting for something bad to happen, for this whole happy community façade to crumble. Places like this don't exist without some kind of darker secrets. "How'd everyone in this group meet?"

Tara smiles though a hint of sadness lingers in her dark eyes. "I was with a group that attacked Rick's. I got left behind and Glenn found me. He could've killed me, but he didn't. We ran into Abraham, Rosita and Eugene. They said they were headed to Washington because Eugene knew the cure to this thing."

Turning to Tara I raise an eyebrow, "You believed him?"

"I wanted to have hope," she admits, avoiding eye contact.

"Hope is a funny thing, isn't it? I was with some people in the beginning; guy thought he could come up with a cure too. People let terrible things happen to them in the name of hope."

"Did you kill him?"

"Yeah. It's funny what hope can do to usually levelheaded people, especially in the case of a crisis. Did you ever really believe he knew the cure?"

Tara turns to me, her eyes finally meeting mine. For a moment we sit in silence, letting the conversation we shared sink in. This new world is funny. It brings people closer at such a fast pace. You learn quickly how to gauge who is to be trusted and who is not. After you've figured that out things just start spilling out of your mouth and suddenly you've told a perfect stranger all of your deepest thoughts and fears. It's incredible yet terrifying all at the same time. "I guess not. I just…I wanted him to be telling the truth. Not too many people do that anymore, tell the truth, I mean. At least not when you first meet them."

"Some people still do. Daryl did, and now I'm here."