Chapter 5 - Recap: "I wouldn't say the next best thing." You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck bashfully. "He was my mentor during my study of infectious diseases." You were in Guinea when you first met Dr. Lehman. It was during the Ebola outbreak, and he flew in for his research. While you were there, you assisted him with his investigation, and when he published his findings, he cited you on the footnote. Later, he recommended you for the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) apprenticeship program.

(The National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) is actually one of the 27 institutes and centers that make up the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in the United States.)

Chapter 33 – Pecap: "Oh, Charles," you whisper when the first thing that comes into sight is your military-standard wallet, the one that holds all your credentials, clearance, and NIH Restricted Area Badge. It's always with him for safekeeping, chastising you about how you leave it everywhere, how it's your only means to D.C., to whatever military base is left.

I am nothing without pretend
I know my faults
Can't live with them
I am nothing without a man
I know my thoughts
But I can't hide them

Must you keep my baby teeth
In the bedside table with my jewelry
You still sleep in the bed with me
My jewelry, and my baby teeth

I don't need another friend
When most of them
I can barely keep up with them
Perfectly able to hold my own hand
But I still can't kiss my own neck

Civilian by Wye oak

Chapter 47 - Survivor's Guilt

You awaken from your sleep, feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight peeking through the curtains of your new home. The soft rays dance across your face, gently coaxing you out of your dreams. As you adjust your body to avoid the light, you gradually become aware of Daryl's solid form beneath you.

You find yourself sprawled on top of him, his chest pressed to yours, your naked skin entwined with his. His arms are softly wrapped around your waist, his touch gentle. The rise and fall of his chest beneath you creates a soothing rhythm, matching the beating of his heart echoing in your ears. His breath is almost in sync with yours.

This intimate moment transports you back to a time long gone, when a younger version of yourselves were tangled up just like this. With your eyes still closed, you savor the sensation as his callused fingers trace delicate patterns along the hollow of your spine. The warmth of his hand seeps into your skin, offering comforting heat that spreads through your veins, like lava consuming your very soul.

With a deep sigh, you nestle closer to him, your head tucked under his chin as his breath brushes against your neck. The softness of the bed envelops you both, cocooning you in comfort. The blankets glide smoothly against your naked back with each movement of his hand, and the lingering scent of lavender mingles with the natural aroma of your shared space.

"You know it's creepy to stare," you whisper teasingly, sensing his eyes fixed upon you. He doesn't respond immediately, but instead, gently brushes aside a strand of hair as if to get a clearer view of your face.

You can almost sense the playful smile that spreads across his face as he finally breaks his silence. "I ain't starin', I'm just wonderin' why you're droolin' on me," he says, his voice filled with amusement.

You immediately look up, hastily wiping your lips. "I don't drool," you assert, looking up at him accusatorily, your eyes wide and innocent.

He points to a damp patch on his chest, a mischievous smirk breaking on his lips. "Then what the hell is this, huh?" he challenges, his gaze shifting from his chest to meet your eyes.

You gasp, looking from the wet mark to him. "That looks suspiciously like you put it there," you reply swiftly, feeling the need to defend yourself as you vehemently deny the obvious evidence before you.

"Right," he retorts sarcastically, "You missed a spot on your chin," he adds, playfully wiping your chin for saliva and showing his slightly wet finger.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, mingling with a playful groan. "Damn, I can't win around here," you concede, your voice laced with mock defeat. You stick your lips out in an exaggerated pout as you wipe his chest with the bedsheet, giving it a swift smack before making a feeble attempt to pull away.

There's laughter in his voice as he yanks you back to his chest. "Nah, I never said you could leave," he says, holding you even tighter against him, his legs locking around yours. You chuckle as you get comfortable, releasing a contented sigh as you lean back on him with a lingering smile, allowing the space between you to grow quiet once more.

"This is nice," you whisper softly, your fingers gently tracing a path up and down his chest, brushing the soft, wispy chest hair along the way.

He hums in agreement, and you can feel his voice vibrate against your chest as he responds, "Y'know, I've always wanted to wake up with ya like this by my side. No more sneakin' out the window at the crack of dawn, just you and me in bed." His words cause your heart to swell with affection.

"Me too," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you shift closer on the bed, bringing your faces together. When you press your lips to his, he returns the kiss, his knee sliding between your thighs, and his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer to him.

After a moment, you pull back, propping yourself up on your elbow as you look down at him. You can't help but smile as you gaze at his tousled hair, a beautiful mess that only adds to his raw and untamed allure. The sun peeking through the window hits him just right, where his hair looks almost light brown, and the blue of his eyes light up. However, as the sunlight illuminates the space between you, you notice something glimmering on your skin. You glance down and see Charles' dog tag sticking to your chest.

That sight yanks you back to reality, and you let out a sigh, looking at the triangular metal piece with his name and ID number engraved on it. You have been routinely taking it off before bed, but you must have forgotten last night. "I love you so much, and I'm so lucky to have moments of bliss like this with you," you whisper, your eyes never leaving the tag. "But every time I smile, I feel this overwhelming guilt, you know? It's like a weight that never leaves my shoulders, no matter how hard I try."

"Don't even think about it, sweetheart. It's just gonna tear ya apart if ya let it consume ya," Daryl replies, his eyes following your gaze. "Just let it go. Feelin' guilty ain't gonna bring any of 'em back. We've all been through so much, and ain't none of it our fault. Beth, she taught me that." He says, pulling the bed sheet up and tucking it between you, covering the necklace with it.

You nod, knowing you are not the only one. You all lost someone, and none of you had time to mourn. "I know, but I can't help but feel responsible for losing him, for the lives we lost along the way. Maybe if I had done something differently, made better decisions, they would have been here with us." If you had just planned better for the Governor and ended him once and for all.

"I know how ya feel, playin' those moments over and over in your head, wonderin' if you could've done more. It's like bein' stuck in a never-ending cycle of regret. But dwellin' on the past ain't gonna change a damn thing." You look up at the tone of his soft voice, your eyes catching his as his hand reaches for your cheek, his fingers caressing your supple skin. "Beth told me I got a real chance now, a possibility waitin' for me, and to hold onto it tight. That's all I've been doin' since the prison, and I need ya to do that with me."

Oh, Beth, another regret. You can feel tears building in your eyes as you nod, your fingers toying with a few long strands falling over his face. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you," you begin, finally opening up, biting down on the squeeze of your heart. "... I've been planning something." His eyebrow rises at your words, but Daryl is not just your husband; he's also your best friend. There's always a sense of safety and acceptance that has allowed you to share every thought with him, now more than ever.

"I want us to take this place," you confess, a part of you wondering if perhaps this need is also born from grief, the desperate longing for control and excessive planning. "Deanna is smart and a capable leader, but she's not suited for this world. These people, they don't know what's out there. They haven't truly lived in this new world, and her way of leading is going to get us killed."

"I thought ya wanted us to give it a try?" he questions, his voice filled with confusion. "Ain't that what you said? To have a normal life out here, just like we always wanted?"

"Yes, of course, but we can't have that if this place doesn't stand," you quickly respond. "Besides, when I say 'take this place,' I don't mean by force," you clarify, knowing that's probably where his mind went. "Politics is all about making it seem like you have all the answers... even when you don't. You've seen the people knocking on our door with gifts. We just need to pull the right strings, move the right chess pieces, and those people will follow us." You pause, aware of how much you sound like your father, the puppet master within you coming to the forefront.

"Is that whatcha want?" he asks, and you can see the pinch in his eyebrow as he turns fully toward you. "Do ya wanna lead this place?"

"It doesn't have to be me," you explain. "It could be you; it could be Rick, it could be Glenn... it just needs to be one of us," you reply, knowing this isn't about you. You never craved power like your father. "You and I, we just need to have a say in the decisions that affect our lives."

Daryl doesn't reply right away, as he contemplates your words. "I know you're capable, sweetheart. I ain't doubtin' ya, not even for a second," he begins, his voice filled with sincerity. Shifting in the bed, he sits up fully, leaning against the headboard. "I would follow you. You know I would," he reassures you.

"But?" you ask, sensing that there's a "but" coming just from the tone of his voice.

"I just don't want cha in danger, and makin' decisions like that puts ya right on the spot," he confesses honestly. "I love ya, and it's my job to keep you safe. I'd rather not see you in the limelight, takin' all the risks." There's a brief pause in his voice as he ponders the situation. After the encounters with the Governor, getting shot, and being separated, you understand his need to protect you, and in some sense, he is right.

"Rick's been makin' moves too, and I told him to leave you out of it," he continues, his tone tinged with a hint of reluctance, as if he truly doesn't want you involved. "Y'know he's a good leader, and he's done right by us," he adds as an afterthought. "Now, he looks to ya, after the Governor. Everyone else does too. You've proven yourself time and time again." Before he can even finish his thought, your mind starts to process the idea he's presenting.

"You can help him lead; y'all can do it together," Daryl suggests. "I reckon it's time you talk to Rick."

As the notion takes hold in your mind, you realize that you don't mind if Rick is the face of leadership. You can still pull the strings, even on Rick himself. Just like your father, you can lead from the shadows. In fact, it might even be preferable. Ha, perhaps life really does have a fucked-up sense of humor, bringing everything back in full circle to you. But you know this approach would alleviate some of the pressure and expectations from those around you while still having the normalcy you always wanted with Daryl.

"Yeah, I can do that," you confirm, a sense of determination resonating in your voice. "But only if you come to the party with me tonight." He immediately huffs, attempting to pull away from you, but you laugh as you get swept up in him again and swiftly wrap your legs around him, momentarily forgetting the deep sadness that lingers within you.

"Fuck 'em, I ain't got nothin' to prove," he says, looking at you with a sideways glance. It was just yesterday when Deanna sent a handwritten invitation, informing you about the party she is throwing for your entire group.

"It's not about proving anything," you say warmly, your hand gently caressing his cheek. "Our people are going to be there, and I know there's a part of you that wants to be a part of that. You don't have to pull away anymore, Daryl. I'll be there with you, and I want my husband to be there with me." You can't help but smile at the expression he gives you, knowing that he might huff and puff and resist now, but deep down, he will come with you.

"Besides, I plan to make an announcement tonight."

Carol found herself unable to pinpoint the exact reason, but upon entering the Gates of Alexandria, her survival instinct immediately kicked in. She felt compelled to adopt her old identity as a meek and content homemaker, a familiar facade that she could slip into effortlessly. Despite the fact that version of herself had died, fragments of those memories lingered within her.

Having endured both physical and mental abuse from Ed, Carol's past experiences unknowingly prepared her for this new world. She had always possessed a survivor's spirit, though she hadn't fully recognized it until the loss of her child. Over time, Carol became more attuned to her instincts and discovered her uncanny ability to perceive situations for what they truly were.

It was this keen perception that enabled her to see through the doctor's actions. Since Alice had rejoined the group after the prison, Carol couldn't help but notice how she subtly assumed a leadership role while allowing Rick to maintain his formal title. Every day, Carol witnessed Alice deftly navigate the delicate balance between leadership and influence.

It took some time for Carol to realize that the doctor's actions were not intentional but rather ingrained in her nature. Alice unknowingly possessed a natural inclination to exert influence, and Carol observed this influence in action. Whether it was with Eugene and his supposed cure, her ability to gain Abraham's loyalty while proving her worth to Rosita with her version on the virus treatment plan, effortlessly converting both of them to her side, or during their time at the barn, boosting the group's morale at their darkest moments. Carol also noticed Alice's impact on Daryl, pushing him to the forefront during the Aaron situation, motivating him out of Rick's shadow.

There was an undeniable power within Alice, an ability to inspire and shape the group from behind the scenes. But it went beyond that. Carol had been aware of Alice from early on, long before the governor's attack, and knew what truly lay beneath the doctor's sweet surface. It was for this reason that, on the first night in Alexandria, Carol had prepared to strategize with the doctor. Yet, Alice never showed up that night. While the rest of the group slept together in the living room of Rick's new home, Alice took her husband and slept in their own bed, setting the tone that this place was not to be feared but rather conquered. The next day, everyone followed suit and slept in their own beds.

As Carol seamlessly blended in with the community, becoming invisible once again, she observed their weaknesses and listened to the rumors circulating within their walls. During this time, she noticed that Alice was doing the opposite of what Carol herself had been doing. While Carol had been purposely fading into the background, Alice stood out, displaying her strength and asserting herself. Carol knew It was only a matter of time before Alice's influence took hold in Alexandria as well.

So, when she stood with Rick and Daryl outside of Alexandria, she attempted to advocate for the inclusion of Alice in their plan. However, Daryl vehemently insisted on leaving his woman alone. He wanted her to "try," that's what he said. Carol wanted to tell him that Alice was already far ahead in her own plan, extending beyond the mere acquisition of a gun. After all, Carol had been bombarded with questions regarding the enigmatic doctor and her supposed cure from both gossiping women and curious men. But She had made a promise to herself to let Daryl live his life, and she would not involve herself in his relationship.

Here she is now, humming an old tune, as she walks towards the three households to deliver a batch of casserole she has prepared for the group. Her role in Alexandria is to cook for the elderly, but she often cooks extra to share among her own people.

The Dixon household is the final stop on her delivery route. With her pleasant tune still filling the air, Carol approaches the back door and finds it surprisingly unlocked. Opening it with ease, she enters the house, half-expecting to encounter the older Dixon occupying the lower level. However, to her surprise, he is nowhere to be seen, and there is no huffing or complaints about using the front door.

The house remains quiet as Carol ascends the stairs, aware that Daryl is out hunting and Jamie is busy with his first day on the construction crew alongside Abe. She hasn't seen Merle or the doctor around, but that doesn't deter her from heading towards the kitchen to place the food in the fridge.

As Carol approaches the kitchen, her ears catch the faint sound of whispers coming from behind the barn-door-style kitchen door. Curiosity sparks, and she pauses to listen, quickly discerning that it is the hushed voice of the doctor followed by Merle. They appear to be engaged in some sort of discussion.

"Are ya outta your damn mind?" Carol hears Merle scoff, his disbelief evident in his tone.

"Don't give me that look. I know you know how to steal, and I need my gun back," the doctor asserts, causing Carol's eyebrows to rise in surprise.

"I know I told ya I'd be the one to handle the dirty jobs, but that don't mean we gotta be stupid about it," Merle replies, and Carol leans in closer to catch their conversation better.

Merle is another intriguing figure to her. He still retains his hot-headed nature, always looking for opportunities to provoke others, but for the most part, the older Dixon seems to stick close to Alice, keeping a constant watch over her.

It is evident that somewhere between the prison and the group's reunion, the dynamic between Merle and the doctor has changed. "Sure, you might be famous 'round here, but I'm infamous," he retorts in a not so quiet whisper. "I don't know if you've noticed, but it seems like I can't even take a damn shit without someone's eyes on me. It's like I'm livin' in a fishbowl, constantly under scrutiny."

Carol can certainly agree with that. She has witnessed the wary glances directed at both Dixon brothers. However, unlike Daryl, Merle seems to shrug it off nonchalantly, defiantly flipping a metaphorical middle finger to the world. "Besides, whatcha need a gun for, huh?" Merle adds as an afterthought, bringing Carol's attention back to the eavesdropped conversation.

"Come on, Merle, we both know it's not about what, but when," the doctor insists. "They only have a one-dimensional view of us right now, and we have to plan for all possibilities." Carol can't help but shake her head and smile. She knows the doctor will see this place for what it truly is and will strategize with multiple backup plans. "You've told me yourself, I won't be able to fistfight my way through, and relying solely on knives won't be sufficient," Alice continues adamantly.

"What's with yer need to always have a plan—" Merle begins, a hint of annoyance in his voice, but Carol doesn't let him finish. She has heard what she needs to hear, and with that, she pushes open the kitchen door and steps in.

"Oh, God, you scared me," Alice exclaims, her hand pressed against her chest. The doctor's face displays clear surprise; she hadn't expected anyone, and there is an awkward tension in the air as the two in-laws exchange glances, trying to discern what Carol might have overheard.

"Hi," Carol greets with a smile, her gaze shifting between the two. "The back door was open," she adds, lifting the ceramic container of food she is there to deliver as if to indicate her purpose for being there.

"Oh, thank you," the doctor replies, shooting a side-eye glance at Merle, silently scolding him for leaving the door unlocked. Carol hums in agreement as she walks over to the fridge, sensing the tension in the room and knowing that they are aware she has overheard their conversation.

"So, you want a gun... I heard," Carol states with a smirk as she closes the fridge. Even without seeing the woman's face, she can sense the defeated sigh that escapes her. "Just so you know, I agree with you. It's not a matter of if or why, but when," Carol continues with determination. "These people, they're like children. They think they know, but they don't."

"Carol..." the doctor begins, but Carol doesn't let her finish. Her mind is made up; she is going to include the younger woman in the plan. Daryl is just going to have to understand.

"We plan to steal the gun tonight at the party—I've already left the storage room window unlocked," Carol spits out, revealing the plan. "I told Rick to let you in on it, but Daryl wanted you to 'try'."

The doctor leans forward, seemingly lost in thought, while Merle shifts his gaze to Carol. "Everyone 'round here is sleepin' on you, ain't it?" he remarks with a smirk, his eyes slowly scanning her from head to toe, taking note of her 'ridiculous' attire as Daryl had called it. "You ain't like how ya were back at the camp, a little mouse scared of her own shadow, hah. Look at cha now."

Before Carol can respond, the doctor speaks as if she hasn't even heard what Merle said, her mind absorbed in her own contemplation. "Daryl mentioned that Rick is making a move, and I assume this is it," she says, glancing between Merle and Carol. "Let Merle help you tonight. I plan on giving a speech, and people are all about this 'cure' right now, and everyone and their mamma will be there. That's when you make your move."

As Carol shifts her gaze between the doctor and Merle, he simply wiggles his eyebrows playfully at her. In that moment, Carol realizes that whether intentionally or not, Merle is positioning himself as the doctor's right-hand man.

Rick stands on the front patio of his new home in Alexandria, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. The evening sky stretches out before him like a canvas, streaked with vibrant shades of orange, pink, and purple. A soft breeze rustles through the trees, carrying with it a sense of anticipation.

Dressed in a crisp, white shirt and faded jeans, Rick prepares himself to attend Deanna's party. He adjusts the collar, feeling constricted even though the first two buttons are undone. It's as if he's living in someone else's body, experiencing a life that doesn't quite feel like his own. The attire and the social gathering all seem foreign and unfamiliar to him. The sense of displacement weighs on him, reminding him of the stark contrast between his previous life and this delusional sense of stability in Alexandria.

"Hey," a voice calls from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. Rick pivots on his heel to see Alice standing there, dressed in a stunning red dress that completely catches him off guard.

"Whoa, red is definitely your color," Rick says with a small smile. The dress gracefully falls to her knees, accentuating her figure without being overly revealing. Tonight, she's not hiding away like he wants to.

"And shaving is definitely yours. I almost forgot what was underneath all that scruff," she says with a laugh as she walks to stand next to him. Rick can't help but glance at her again, his eyes drawn to her long, loose dark hair cascading over her back like a curtain. It complements the red dress she wears, the sunset reflecting a reddish hue that enhances her hair's undertones.

She lets out a huff, and Rick follows her gaze to see a woman walking her dog. As if sensing their combined gaze, the woman turns and upon recognizing their currant celebrity of a doctor, she waves. "I don't know how they've survived this long…" Alice says with a forced smile on her face as she waves back.

"They didn't even have a lookout until yesterday," Rick tells her, raising his hand as well, feeling obligated to wave. "They are the luckiest people I've ever met."

"They don't live in the real world... everything that has happened so far is just an inconvenience for them," she retorts.

Rick couldn't agree more. "The world has changed, and these people don't know how to change with it. They're stuck in the past." Everything about this place screams that they have no clue about the true horrors that lie beyond these walls, how truly dead the world has become. "Carl said this place is gonna make us weak, and I think he's right," Rick shares a thought that has been weighing on him for the past few days.

The woman next to him hums thoughtfully. "It doesn't have to, Rick. We won't let it. It's all about survival now, and we will survive," she says, her voice filled with determination. There is a shift in her demeanor as she turns to face him. "I plan to take this place from Deanna," she whispers.

"Is that why you need a gun?" he asks, his voice low, sensing the gravity of their conversation. "To force them to comply." He isn't surprised when Carol came to him with a triumphant smile on her face, and told him what she overheard earlier, how their plans now have changed.

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "No, I don't need to use force. I'm going to take it from her in her own game..." she says, a slow smirk breaking across her face. "But I still believe that we should all have guns. Everyone should be armed within the community."

That smirk on her face triggers a memory, a conversation he had with Charles, a warning. He recalls asking Charles if Alice could take on the Governor, who was their biggest threat at the time. "Do not underestimate her, Rick, because that will be the day you lose," Charles had cautioned.

In Rick's eyes, Alice represents a paradox—an enigma of contradictions. She embodies qualities that seem so at odds with each other, as if she is a woman walking a tightrope between who she is and who she aspires to be. Rick can't help but wonder if it was nature versus nurture, with life constantly testing her to see which way she might tilt.

He thought perhaps she might be like Shane —a morally grey character. However, it's difficult to make that comparison because she is so unlike Shane in many ways. She is warm, kind, and loves wholeheartedly, approaching things with logical thinking. Yet, despite these positive traits, she is also cutthroat and ruthless, making decisive decisions without hesitation, without a blink, regardless of her personal feelings.

He vividly remembers that day, walking into the pharmacy and seeing her standing there with her red scarf and large doe-eyes. There was something immediately likable about her, something that instilled trust in him. Back then, he believed in miracles, and he was a different man. However, with Hershel's leg injury and Lori's pregnancy, meeting her had felt like a prayer answered.

But it didn't take long for Rick to realize that she wasn't there for him, but for Daryl. He supposes, he should have known by the way she looked at the man and how Daryl tried to avoid her gaze. It was as if a single glance from her could claim his soul—an unfinished love that loomed over them both like a cloud.

A hand pressing over his on the railing brings him back to the present moment. "She is locking down guns like there is no danger, just because we are behind a wall, Rick," Alice says, stepping closer.

"They don't know what they're doing, what's out there," he replies with a nod. "They haven't seen what we have seen. They don't understand where the real danger lies."

Alice's voice drops even lower. "Which is why I think it should be us leading. We can do it together, you and me. We take this place one step at a time. I'll help you, and you'll help me," she says, her hand tightening around his. "Can you see it?"

Rick looks into Alice's eyes, those honey-colored eyes framed by dark lashes, gazing back at him with unwavering determination. "Yes, I can see it," Rick responds, his voice steady. He saw it that day during the flu outbreak, how they stood together, giving out orders in perfect sync.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, ready to open up to her. "What we were doing—Daryl, Carol, and I—it wasn't really a plan, but more of a cautionary measure. I wanted to include you, but Daryl made a call for his family, and I couldn't..." Rick confesses, his voice trailing off. He couldn't bring himself to go against Daryl's request to leave his wife be.

A small smile breaks across Alice's face as she squeezes his hand once more before gently pulling her hand away. Her warm touch lingers on his skin as she speaks, "It's alright, Rick. We're together now, and we know what needs to be done—the hard decisions it takes to survive. We start tonight, we won't lose."

Those words bring back memories of his best friend, and everything Shane had been trying to tell him. It's all so clear now. It took him so long to see it, but he can feel the determination coursing through him. His hand moves to adjust his collar again, his grip tight. "We won't get weak. It's not in us anymore. We will survive because we're the ones who live," he says, his voice filled with a palpable tightness.

"We're the ones who live," Alice repeats after him, her voice echoing his resolve.

"Why do I gotta wear my uniform, huh?" Jamie complains once again as you step into the bustling party at Deanna's home, the lively atmosphere enveloping you all. "You know I had a nice drip waitin' for me."

Laughter and cheerful chatter fill the air, mingling with the faint aroma of food. You turn to the men behind you, a fake smile already on your face, and respond to Jamie's protest, "Because we're making statements, and your uniform is a key part of it." you say, shooting Jamie a scowl.

Your gaze shifts to Merle, who stands at the end of the lineup, right by the entrance to the house. He is dressed in a clean, full-sleeved shirt, concealing most of his prosthetic arm. Daryl, who went out hunting nearby, still hasn't returned. You suspect he's doing it on purpose, perhaps to avoid the party all together. But you left a clean set of clothes out, hoping he would make it. "And you, behave yourself, alright," you scold the older Dixon in a hushed voice.

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout me, darlin'. I'm only here for the damn food and booze," he replies, his eyes already scanning the table full of food and beer lined up. You follow his gaze, but before you can fully take in the scene, Deanna approaches you with a wide smile on her face.

"Alice, you made it!" she exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she grasps your arm. "Jamie, Merle, enjoy the party," she says with a brief nod, leading you away through the crowd. You can't help but glance back at the men once more as you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of social obligations.

Deanna introduces you to a group of strangers, their faces a blur of unfamiliarity. Their names blend together in your mind as she proudly presents you as a new member of the community. With each introduction, you paste on a bright smile, hoping to convince them of your enthusiasm and warmth. Everyone seems curious about the "cure," asking how long it will take, when it can be made, as if you possess the power to reverse their lives back to how they were. One person even shares a homemade remedy, convinced it can cure all infections. You nod and smile politely, entertaining their questions, all the while wondering if perhaps Daryl had the right idea about skipping the party.

As the room buzzes with vibrant personalities, you navigate the conversations, nodding and smiling in all the right places. You are brought to attention when a middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard tells a joke, and the crowd erupts in laughter. A young woman with fiery red hair gestures animatedly, her words carrying an air of confidence.

Amidst the laughter and conversations, you catch snippets of genuine happiness, people finding solace in this fragile bubble of normalcy. But deep down, you know it's all just smoke and mirrors, a fleeting mirage in a desert of despair. As you continue to navigate the sea of unfamiliar faces, you play your part, concealing your true thoughts and emotions beneath the guise of a friendly, outgoing demeanor.

Just then, you catch a movement by the door as Daryl walks in, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He pauses in the front hallway, fingers to his lips as he nervously chews on his nails. Despite his unease, he appears cleaned up, dressed in his dark washed-out button-up shirt, dark jeans, and his signature vest layered on top.

"I'm really glad you like my pasta," the woman in front of you continues to talk, but you barely pay any attention, your eyes fixed on your husband standing there stiff as a board. You know the fact that he's made it to the party is like pulling teeth for him. The woman mentions something about needing a real pasta maker to whip up something delicious, but your focus is elsewhere.

"Oh look, there's my husband," you say with a cheerful voice, interrupting the woman who has been talking about a pasta maker for the past fifteen minutes. "Thank you again, Mrs. Neudermyer, and I really hope you get your Pasta-maker," you say, offering a polite smile before making your way through the crowd, cutting a path towards Daryl. You navigate the bustling room, sidestepping conversations and friendly faces, and the closer you get, the more your smile widens, knowing that he's made the effort to be here despite his reservations.

"Why do I gotta be here?" Daryl says the moment you reach him, his finger still pressed to his lips. Part of you wants to reach out and kiss him, but you know that's not his style, nor is it appropriate in this setting.

"Listen, I've been stuck in a conversation about a Pasta-maker for the last 15 minutes," you start with a playful scowl as you reach for his hand. "The least you can do is endure this with me." Your eyes scan the room until you spot Jamie and Merle standing near the corner.

With Daryl's hand still in yours, you guide him across the room. "By the way, you look very handsome," you compliment, unable to hide your amusement as Daryl scoffs at you, his cheeks slightly reddening.

"Damn, brother, loosen up that stick up your ass and relax a little, huh?" Merle teases with a sly smile the moment you reach them, taking a sip of his beer. "They're just a bunch of homemakers, playin' house and whatnot. No need to get all worked up over them." He slaps his hand on Daryl's back, pulling him to his side. Daryl huffs, shoving his brother's arm off him. You're not sure how many beers Merle has had, but he certainly seems to be enjoying himself.

"I don't blame you. Feels like being some damn animal in a zoo," Jamie chimes in, understanding the discomfort. "But hey, let's look at it this way: at least they got beer, so sip on a cold one and drown out the noise." He bends down to grab an unopened bottle from the ground, not even glancing at your stunned expression as Jamie pops the cap off with his teeth and hands the beer to Daryl. Your eyebrows raise when you notice the empty bottles and unopened ones lined up. You can't help but shoot a questioning look at Merle, pinching your brows together. So much for being the burglar.

As if some deity is having fun at your expense, you feel someone nudge you as they walk past. You look up to see Carol, and she subtly motions her head towards the door. Following her gesture, you see Olivia entering the room. You know this means the storage room is locked and empty. When you look back at Merle, he smirks at you, already catching the exchange. "Showtime, sweet cheeks," he says, shoving his beer into your hand.

"Oh, God," you whisper, a mixture of anticipation and nerves filling you as you tightly grip the beer in your hand. Part of you wants to stop Merle, knowing he might be a bit drunk for this, but everything moves quickly, as Carol slips out of the room. Well, here goes nothing, you think with a surge of determination.

You grab Jamie's arm and yank him with you to the middle of the room, leaving Daryl watching in confusion. You lock eyes with Jamie, and you can see the same confusion mirrored in his expression. It dawns on you that he's not Charles, who would understand the looks you give him. With a sigh, you grasp his beer and smack the two bottles together loudly, creating a sharp sound that catches everyone's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Dr. Alice Dixon, and I want to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you," you begin, your voice projecting across the room. Jamie stands behind you, his posture stiff like a soldier.

"Thank you for the delicious homemade pies, the bottles of liquor, and even the knitted scarf," you continue, eliciting laughter from the crowd as a woman in the back whoops in response to the scarf comment. "Your warm welcome has made me feel truly appreciated, and it extends to all of us here."

"In the early days of the outbreak, I was part of the United States military medical research team dedicated to finding a solution. However, before we could make significant progress, our base was overrun. It was then that we received a call from our brothers and sisters here in D.C., informing us that they were going underground," you state with a smile, shooting Jamie a warm gaze. He seems to understand that at this moment, he is a prop, and he straightens his shoulders, his uniform sharp.

"The journey to reach this place was unimaginable. We faced tremendous hardships and lost loved ones along the way, only to discover that D.C. is gone... But, our story doesn't have to end with disappointment and devastation," you continue, your voice filled with determination. Now, it's time to move into your plan, even if you're not sure it will work.

"You see, this isn't my first time in the D.C. area. I completed my apprenticeship with my predecessor, Dr. Lehman, at the National Institutes of Health (NIH), which is located about fifty miles from here, in Bethesda, Maryland," you reveal, knowing for a fact that NIH is the largest federal biomedical and health-related agency in America, surpassing even the CDC in size and scope. Unlike the CDC, NIH not only conducts research in laboratories but also runs clinical trials and medical centers, providing direct patient care through hospitals.

"For us to work on this 'cure', to continue our research here in Alexandria, we need chemicals… like organic solvents, acids and bases, biological agents, radioactive isotopes, so on... chemicals that can break apart DNA," you state boldly, stepping forward and staring at the men and women in front of you with unwavering determination. Your voice takes on a different tone, commanding attention.

"But it's not just about chemicals. They have pharmacies and cafeterias in each and every wing," you say, glancing around the room, sensing the fear and guarded yet determined looks. "It's a gold mine waiting to be picked..." there is a pause as you let it build for the anticipation.

"So why don't we pick it? …Let's raid it."

The streets are dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of lights seeping through windows as you casually walk back home. Deanna and Reg held you back, bombarding you with questions about the plan you had just sprung on them. You let out a disappointed sigh. Only four people had volunteered. You didn't have high hopes for many Alexandrians to step up, but you definitely expected more than four. Yet, perhaps it was unrealistic to expect them to venture beyond the safety of the walls, let alone face the undead and raid buildings.

It all began with Abe. He was the first to step forward, his chest puffed out, ready for a mission, nodding at you with cheeks flushed from alcohol as he lifted his beer bottle in salute. One by one, the rest of your group followed suit. As you surveyed the room, your eyes landed on Daryl, who had remained in his corner. He nodded at you, his beer bottle slightly lifted, silently expressing his agreement.

"Hey," a voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Daryl sitting on the steps of Aaron's house. He gets up, dusting off his pants before falling into step next to you.

"Hey back," you smile, already aware that he was probably waiting for you. "Did you have fun at the party?" you ask.

"Meh, it was aight," he says, and you hum as you slide your hand into his, your fingers intertwining, as your pace becomes leisurely and you walk hand in hand, the cool air gently brushing against your faces.

You're not sure when Jamie left, but you saw Daryl leave shortly after your speech, skillfully maneuvering through the loud noises and questions directed at you. But the fact that he walked in for a few minutes and had a beer is a significant step for him.

"When we were at the CDC, the whole damn building was set to blow up when the power ran out," Daryl says, bringing you back to the present moment. "What makes ya think this NIH building is still here?"

"Because there are hospitals attached to the facilities, and their contingency plan is to go on lockdown," you explain, recalling your first day of orientation. "Only a select few staff members with Restricted Area Badge can unlock it, even during emergencies."

"And ya think your ID still works?" Daryl asks as you both climb the steps to your home. You're uncertain if your badge is still active, but you know it doesn't expire for another two years, and you certainly hope you won't have to break through bulletproof windows.

"Who knows, but we have to try," you counter, opening the door to your home, only to be greeted by a noise coming from somewhere deep within the house. You pause, and glance back at Daryl, and he simply shrugs his shoulders in response. Curiosity piqued, the two of you follow the sound until you reach the kitchen, where an argument between Merle and Carol is in full swing.

"You never listen, it's always your way or no way, isn't it?" Carol huffs, looking up at Merle's towering figure. "What's the point of doing this if we're going to get caught?"

Merle rolls his eyes, standing there in his black wifebeater. "Listen, lady, let me set the record straight. She asked for her damn gun, and I did exactly what she asked for. I ain't in the business of playin' games or second-guessin' people's requests. So, don't go pointin' fingers at me. I'm just the messenger, fulfillin' the demands. If you got a problem with that, take it up with her, not with me." Merle retorts with annoyance evident in his voice.

Daryl cuts in, looking between his friend and his brother. "What's goin' on here?"

"She's fuckin' with my damn buzz, that's what's goin' on here," Merle responds, stepping back from the woman in front of him.

"I don't know why you sent me with him—look," Carol says to you, her voice filled with frustration as she points to Merle's button-up shirt that he was wearing at the party, now casually draped over the kitchen island. With an irritated jerk, she pulls the edge, revealing a black rifle underneath.

You step closer, lifting the cover slightly higher to see an AR-15. Your gaze shifts from the weapon to Merle, completely flabbergasted. "You said you wanted yer damn gun, didn't cha?" he says to you as if it explains everything.

"Dude, what the hell, man? The point is to grab somethin' they won't even notice is missin'," Daryl interjects from your side.

"Besides, this isn't even my gun," you state, glancing down at it once again.

"Eh, it's close enough. Who's gonna notice, anyway? They got 'em all stacked up like trophies, one after the other. It's like a damn collection to them," Merle says nonchalantly.

"Ahh, this is what I mean," Carol huffs, clearly irritated. "If we get caught, you're taking the fall for this," she says, stepping forward and jabbing her finger at him.

Merle only smirks, seemingly enjoying getting a reaction out of her. "You know what? I'm startin' to like this new fierce attitude of yours," he says, stepping closer to her again, invading her personal space until her finger jabs his chest. "Like how ya used me back there to scare that little kid with the cookies," he continues, his smirk growing wider.

You can feel Daryl tense next to you, uncertain of where this is heading. Both of you watch as Merle lowers his voice. "How 'bout it, me and ya? We find a place and have ourselves a little rendezvous, hah? Bump some ugly," he suggests with a crude grin.

You snort, quickly biting your lip to stifle your laughter. Carol's reaction is swift as she swings at him in a slap, but Merle is quicker, gasping her arm mid-slap. "If you're tryin' to turn me on, it's workin'," he teases.

"Oh god," Daryl scoffs, clearly exasperated. He doesn't wait to hear more and immediately turns to head toward the stairs, unwilling to entertain his brother's shenanigans any longer.

"You know what? I'm done with you," Carol declares, yanking her hand back. "I'm not going to waste any more of my breath." With that, she storms out of the kitchen. Merle chuckles, watching her leave, and you can't help but join in, the image of Carol's face still fresh in your mind.

"Hide that somewhere," you say with smile, pointing at the rifle still covered by his shirt. "And where is Jamie?" you add as an afterthought.

"Who knows, wherever that Mexican girl is..." Merle trails off, his voice filled with nonchalance.

Notes:

In Season 5, Episode 13, when Daryl wanted to go into the party but stood outside, my heart broke for him. I couldn't help but wonder if he would have entered if he had a reason, someone he wanted to support. That's why it made sense to me that he would take that step.

Carol's fox in sheep's clothing persona is intriguing to write about. She noticed Alice's behavior long before Alice herself even recognized it. Carol had a keen ability to observe and decipher people's true nature.

Oh hopefully it show how Alice had been grappling with survivor's guilt, and it manifested in her desperate need for control. This need was evident in Alice's excessive planning and her constant anticipation of potential threats or dangers.