Originally this chapter was going to be lot longer, but I decided to cut it here. Hopefully, the next chapter won't fell choppy.

Recap: Chapter 27 - "So, all is well with you and Daryl?" she asks, and you can't help but smile, knowing this is the reason she came to visit. During your recovery, you've spent long hours talking, and she had sat with you, changed your dressings, and cleaned your wounds. You've gotten a chance to get to know each other, and it was during one of those nights that Carol had told you about her daughter Sophia and her abusive husband, Ed.

Go your way
I'll take the long way 'round
Oh, I'll find my own way down
Oh, As I should

And hold your gaze
There's coke in the Midas touch
A joke in the way that we rust
And breathe again

And you'll find loss
And you'll fear what you found
When the weather comes, oh
Tearing down

Oats in the water by Ben Howard

Chapter 49 - Influence

You find yourself seated on your living room couch, flanked by Rick on your right and Jamie on your left. Across from you, Glenn occupies the long sofa, his wife Maggie beside him. Behind the couple stands Merle, casually leaning on the door frame. Somewhere near the large window stands Carol, her eyes appearing distant as she gazes outside.

The atmosphere in the room is somber, the air tense, as Glenn recounts the tragic story of Noah's demise in a hushed voice. Despite the dried blood covering his hand, Maggie firmly holds onto Glenn's hand, providing silent support.

It all began inside the church, which was now in the process of being converted into your new lab. The conversation was initiated by Eugene, who recommended setting up a separate solar grid specifically for the lab. This suggestion sparked discussions about fixing the main power grid, which had been causing persistent power outages throughout the community.

The mission to resolve the power issues was led by Glenn, accompanied by Aiden and a few other group members. They embarked on an expedition to a storage warehouse to search for new parts for the solar power system. Tragically, the excursion resulted in the loss of both Noah and Aiden.

Glenn's voice trembles as he recalls the events, "I could have left him," he confesses, referring to what Nicholas did, "I could have come up with an excuse." When he notices the expression on Rick's face, he seems taken aback, "What, you think I should have done that?" Glenn asks, displaying a familiar vulnerability. But deep down, you know that's not the kind of person Glenn is; he doesn't have it in his heart to leave anyone behind.

"These people, they don't know what they're doing—any of them," Rick says with a shake of his head, and your mind drifts back to the conversation you had with him before the party.

"Then, we'll show them," Glenn responds, his tone filled with determination that leaves you with a knot in your stomach. It has only been a day since Daryl left, and you spent the entire night pondering the implications of your actions.

Even though Daryl supports your plan to take over this place, his actions suggest that he believes in this community. He wants to give it a chance, to "try" building something real here, that was why he declined the gun from Carol. That was why he had said, "a chance for me to do somethin' worthwhile." And that's why he's out there now, searching for more people to grow the community.

"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," Daryl's words echo in your mind.

But you, on the other hand, have taken the opposite approach, haven't you? From the moment Aaron brought you here, from your very first step into this community, you were set on taking control. Why? Why have you been unwilling to give it a genuine try, even though you've been actively setting up roots here.

"I don't know if they can see it, how things really are. They haven't caught up," Rick remarks, looking at Glenn.

"We have to be here—we have to," Glenn insists, looking from Rick to you. "Noah believed in this place, died for this place."

You nod in agreement, feeling a lump in your throat as you observe Glenn's bloody hand again. You find yourself wondering why you can't be more like Glenn—able to see the good instead of dwelling on the negative. When you suddenly stand up, Glenn appears puzzled, but you place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. You understand that he's lost a friend today, and although you weren't close with Noah, it doesn't feel genuine to say something now.

So, you decide to let them continue their conversation as you move away, your feet leading you toward the window where Carol stands, lost in thought. There is a moment of pause as the discussion among the group becomes a backdrop of noise, while you think of Reg and Deanna, and how they must be holding up with the loss of their son.

"Pete is beating his wife," Carol says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"What?"

"Her son, Sam, told me," she says, and it takes you a moment to put a face to the name. You realize it's the little 'cookie' kid who was once terrified of Merle after Carol used the man to scare him off. The older Dixon had chuckled about it, recounting the story of what happened when they were stealing the guns.

"He said his mom put a bolt on the inside of his closet, telling him to lock himself in sometimes and not come out until morning," she continues, her gaze fixed on a house across from yours. "He said he can hear his mom yelling, crying, and last month, it got really quiet, and he went out and found her unconscious and bleeding on the floor."

"Pete is a surgeon, Carol, and we need his skills," you begin to say, but she jerks toward you, her brow furrowed. You bite your lip as you observe her expression, realizing that this means something deeply personal to her. Your thoughts briefly go back to that night during your recovery after getting shot by the governor, when she confided in you about her daughter Sophia and her abusive husband, Ed.

"What are you saying?" she questions, her tone taken aback. "It's okay for him to beat his wife because he's a doctor? You're a woman; how could you possibly say that?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," you say, turning toward her, approaching the situation logically. "We have to be smart about it, and if necessary, separate them by force, but we need him. Do you remember what the flu was like at the prison? All it takes is one virus, one infection."

She shakes her head, still determined. "He has to die, Alie," she says, her voice firm with conviction. "You can't keep a man like that just because of his skills or a possibility of 'what if'. Besides, you're a doctor; we don't need him."

You understand that her own traumatic experience clouds her judgment, but as you glance over at Glenn, you let out a sigh and soften your tone, reaching for her hand. "We had three doctors at the prison, and we barely made it out. We must try everything first," you explain, memories of Hershel and Dr. S lingering in your mind.

"Separating them is not going to work, trust me, I've been there," Carol says, her gaze returning to the window, sadness evident in her eyes. "That woman's life depends on it."

You open your mouth to respond, but your words are drowned out by a buzzing static noise emanating from the radio attached to your pants. "Alie," Daryl's broken voice calls out through the radio, and without a second thought, you grip it tightly, relief flooding through you.

"Copy," you say, radio to your lips as your feet move quickly toward the stairs that lead up to your bedroom.

Just as you disappeared out of sight, Maggie slowly gets up, and quietly follows you up the stairs.

"Hey, where the hell are you going?" you demand as you step out of the house, Denise trailing behind you. From the front patio, you spot Jamie seated in the driver's seat of the same beat-up truck Rosita was fixing a few days ago.

"Yo, Alie, you ain't gonna believe the crazy shit we found yesterday while we were out scavenging, man," Jamie says excitedly, poking his head out the window. "We found some Whiteboys—loud as hell—surrounded by a ton of walkers at one of the houses."

"Yep, and we're gonna replant those bitches right here," says a voice behind you. You turn to see Merle carrying a shovel as he walks around from the back of the house.

You place your hand on your waist, giving them both a stern look. "We just lost two people yesterday, and you guys are out here doing some shenanigans," you scold, but Merle disregards your nagging and tosses the shovel into the bed of the truck.

"Yeah, ya know, one could say we need it 'cause of all the damn depressin' shit that's happenin' around here," Merle says nonchalantly before his gaze shifts toward the young woman beside you. "Ain't that right, little mouse?" Denise immediately drops her gaze, causing Merle to chuckle.

"Don't sweat it, we'll be back in a hot sec," Jamie assures, looking at you with bright eyes, as the older Dixon jumps into the passenger seat. Jamie doesn't even wait to hear what you have to say next before hitting the gas, and you can hear the echo of his loud hoot. You shake your head, watching them speed away. At least somebody is happy.

"What are White Boys?" Denise asks from beside you. You turn, her gaze also following the car that disappears out of sight. The woman had shown up early in the morning, her bag slung over her shoulder, standing nervously at your door as if it were her first day on the job. You had greeted her with sleepy eyes, taking in her presence, but since you had nothing for her to do, you invited her to have breakfast.

"It's backyard marijuana," you tell her as you both walk down the steps, heading toward the church.

You engage in light conversation about the two men, and surprisingly, she is more interested in Merle as her questions revolve around your relationship with him. You take the opportunity to tell her about the Dixon brothers and how you are married to one of them.

As you push open the heavy double doors of the church, the scent of aged wood fills the air, accompanied by the distant echoes of Abe's booming voice and the sound of construction work. However, it's not just the noise that captures your attention; it's Father Gabriel, standing at the podium as if about to give a sermon to an empty room. His shoulders are tense, and his brows are furrowed.

"You should definitely keep those windows." Denise remarks from somewhere nearby as she steps aside to admire the stained glass, "can you imagine having that view every time you come to work?" You respond with a hum, though your focus remains fixed on the priest.

"Hey, why don't you go check on Abraham and the construction crew, see how they're doing?" you suggest to Denise. She pauses her inspection of the finely crafted glasses and looks at you. Finally, she seems to notice the awkwardness in the air, her eyes landing on Father Gabriel.

"Oh, I'll—I'm gonna go check," she says as she awkwardly shuffles her feet, her head down as she maneuvers around the benches toward the stairs leading below, located at the far corner of the room.

Turning your attention back to the man on the podium, you lock eyes with Father Gabriel. There's a certain intensity in his gaze, and you can't help but feel the weight of some unspoken tension between you. Last night, when you went upstairs to take Daryl's call, Maggie had followed you a few minutes later. In a private conversation, she had revealed Gabriel's betrayal and what he had said to Deanna. Both of you sat on your bed in silence, uncertain of the best course of action, but Maggie was adamant about not informing the rest of the group, fearing it would overshadow Noah's tragedy.

With a sigh, you shift your focus back to your surroundings. This is only the second time you've been inside this church, and it's still just as beautiful. Your footsteps echo with each step, and your fingers graze the back of the benches as you soak in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows, creating a mesmerizing dance of colors on the polished wooden floor.

Like Noah, Gabriel is another one of the group's new additions you haven't really gotten to know as well as the others. But you endured one of the hardest times of your life on the road with him, and you hope that shared experience is enough to bond you together and that he will explain himself.

You let your feet guide you aimlessly as you wait for Gabriel to speak, and you find yourself standing before the large wooden cross that hangs on the side of the room, taking up half the wall. You gaze at the dark oak, running your fingers along its polished surface, appreciating the incredible craftsmanship that went into creating it.

Your contemplation is cut short when Gabriel speaks, his voice overshadowing the soft background noise of the drill coming from below. "The devil knows no bounds," he spits out, and you turn to face him, noticing his eyes seem to burn as he stares at your hand resting on the cross. "Scriptures tell us that Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light." His jaw clenches with each word, as if struggling to contain his emotions, and the muscles in his neck tense with suppressed anger.

"Even when Satan appears to be on the side of good, he is only using it as a mask to deceive us," he continues, his voice filled with bitterness and resentment. "This is a house of God, and you are defiling it, want to dismantle it, ruining it with your sin and filth!" he accuses, his tone sharp and biting. As if on cue, there's a loud boom from the basement where the construction crew is working, as if they just knocked down a wall.

You don't respond immediately, momentarily stunned by his outburst. Instead, you stare up at him standing high and mighty on his podium, his dark eyes glaring, nostrils flaring with every breath, and hands fisted at his sides. But as you continue to gaze at him, you feel your own anger simmering beneath the surface. You think of Noah's excitement just a day ago, the hopefulness in his eyes as he followed Reg around this church, eager to learn from the man, notebook clenched in hand. You think of Charles, Beth, Hershel, people who deserved to be here, yet this man...

"Do you know the story of the drowning man?" you ask, keeping your expression composed.

Instead of answering, Gabriel bellows, "Are you listening?! Haven't you people done enough?! Have you no shame?!"

You take a deep breath, your hand leaving the cross as you step toward the podium. "There was a fellow, a religious man such as yourself, who got stuck on his rooftop in a flood," you begin, disregarding his accusatory tone, as the banging noise from below accompanies your firm voice like a drum. "He was praying to God for help, and soon a man in a rowboat came by. The fellow shouted to the man on the roof, 'Jump in, I can save you.' But the stranded man replied, 'No, it's okay. I'm praying to God, and He is going to save me.' So the rowboat went on."

You continue the tale, with each sentence, you take a step toward him, "Then a motorboat came by—the fellow in the motorboat shouted, 'Jump in, I can save you.' Yet again, the stranded man declined, saying, 'No thanks, I'm praying to God, and He is going to save me. I have faith.' So the motorboat went on."

You climb the two steps to the podium, and the noise from the construction below seems to fade into the background, as you stand before him, your eyes matching the intensity in Gabriel's gaze. "Then a helicopter came by, and the pilot shouted down, 'Grab this rope, and I will lift you to safety.' But once more, the stranded man responded, 'No thanks, I'm praying to God, and He is going to save me. I have faith.' So the helicopter reluctantly flew away."

As your words hang in the air, your voice lowers as you conclude the story, "Soon the water rose above the rooftop, and the man drowned. He went to Heaven and finally got his chance to discuss the whole situation with God, at which point he exclaimed, 'I had faith in you, but you didn't save me. I don't understand why!' To this, God replied, 'I sent you a rowboat, a motorboat, and a helicopter. What more did you expect?'"

As the weight of your words settles upon Father Gabriel, there's a momentary pause, and you can see in his eyes that he understands he is the drowning man in the story.

"What more did you expect, Gabriel?" you ask, your voice soft yet venomous.

His face contorts like a stormy sea, struggling to contain the flood of emotions within him. Your words have struck a chord, touching upon something deep within him. "Even in scientific terms, we have a word for this," you continue, face stone as his tears pulls at his red eyes, "it's called 'positive deviation'—meaning absolute good fortune. And trust me, I know good fortune when I see one because I've been lucky too." But even your luck came with years of hard work and sacrifice.

"You have not contributed to this group in a single way that mattered, never getting your hands dirty like us," you jab, your voice laced with frustration and disappointment. Each word cuts through the air with undeniable force. "I'm not even religious, yet I can see what God keeps giving you—he gave you a group that protected you, saved you, fed you what they had, starved with you, and led you to this place. God gave you men like Rick, Daryl, Glenn—God gave you me, a doctor who is trying to help heal the world."

His body shakes as his tears finally make their way down his cheeks like a flood, and you can see the internal struggle within him. But you don't back down; instead, you keep digging in, confronting his actions, questioning his fate and choices. "Here you are, complaining about four walls, instead of seeing it as a sign that God is turning His home into a lab, guiding my hands in His."

Taking a deep breath, you turn away from him, momentarily overwhelmed by your own emotions. "If I am the devil, then you are Judas, a man who turned his back on his God, his people, betraying them in the most cowardly and treacherous—"

Your words are cut off with a bang as the front double door is pushed open with force. Carl stands there, gasping for air as if he ran all the way to get here. He opens his mouth, slightly bending down, trying to catch his breath.

"Alie—you have to c-come," Carl gasps as you stare at him wide-eyed from the podium, "it's Dad—he's fighting—just come, hurry!"

Without hesitation, you rush forward, jumping down from the podium. As you run out, you can hear Gabriel's loud sobs echoing in the empty space behind you.

What a fuckin day it has been. You slowly descend the steps of your house's lower level, clutching the walkie-talkie tightly in both hands. The voices of the boys are audible through the upstairs bedroom window, laughing and bantering, tempting you to follow them. Deciding to join them, you make your way through Merle's messy living space and push open the back door, welcoming the cool night air that gently caresses your skin.

In the backyard, a newly added dug-in firepit catches your attention, its flames dancing merrily in the center and casting flickering shadows on the surrounding outer wall. As you take your first step outside, your gaze lands on a few replanted marijuana bushes flanking each side of the door in carefully tended soil. A simple yet sturdy garden fence enclosed them, its purpose not entirely clear to you.

Feeling tired and emotionally drained, you let out a sigh and shuffle your feet closer to the source of laughter, where Merle and Jamie sit comfortably on outdoor chairs, passing a rolled joint between them, its distinct aroma filling the air. Puffs of smoke escape into the night as they share laughter over an inside joke that you can't quite catch.

"Well, well, look who decided to join the party!" Merle exclaims as he catches sight of you. "The first lady finally gracin' us with her presence, huh? Took you long enough to show up," he chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Then, he glances behind you and asks, "Where's the little mouse? She finally got her head unstuck from your ass?" he says referring to Denise.

"I don't know," you mumble shamefully, hoping she has returned home. You had forgotten her, leaving her at the church, completely preoccupied with everything that took place.

Jamie cranes his neck to look back at you, "Yo, we were just talkin' 'bout what went down," he says as you come around to settle into the empty chair beside him. "We heard Rick went berserk and started whippin' the doctor's ass—can't believe we missed it."

Another deep sigh escapes your lips as you pull your feet up onto the chair, tucking your knee to your chest. "Yeah, I could've really used your help today," you say wearily. "It was a shit show."

You weren't sure what to expect when Carl rushed at you, but a fight between Rick and Pete was definitely not it. You arrive just in time to witness Rick delivering his impassioned speech while kneeling over the unconscious doctor, his face covered in blood and a gun in his hand. You cringed as he repeated your private words out loud. Part of you understood the need for them to hear it, but the situation was undeniably intense. Thankfully, Michonne arrived just seconds after you, swiftly knocking Rick unconscious with a single punch. The horror on everyone's faces, combined with the stern resolve on Deanna's, made it clear that there would be serious consequences that will affect your entire group.

Noticing the concern on your face, Merle softens his tone. "You know what, there ain't nothin' you can do. It is what it is, and now we gotta deal with it," he says, extending his hand to pass you the lit joint. "Now take a puff of this joint and relax, alright? Ain't nothin' wrong with takin' a breather; you look all stressed out."

Accepting the joint, you take a moment to inhale deeply, allowing the calming effects of the marijuana to wash over you. With closed eyes, you embrace the warmth of the fire, finding solace against the chilly night air and the heavy troubles on your mind. It's a much-needed respite after the day you had. Deanna had decided to put both Rick and Pete on house rest, locking them in separate homes. As the only other full-fledged doctor, you had patched up both men, but with Pete out of commission, that means taking over the clinic and looking after injured Tara as well.

When you open your eyes again, you pass the smoke to the large man next to you.

"Always knew Officer Friendly was cold as ice," Merle says, raising his prosthetic arm as if to prove a point. "Well, 'bout damn time if you ask me. These housewives can shove it where the sun don't shine. They act like they got it all figured out, survivin' in this mess. But the truth is, half of 'em wouldn't last a day out there in the real world."

Jamie eagerly nods, bringing the smoke to his lips. "Word on the street is that Rick straight up told Deanna she's a lousy leader and that her decisions were gonna get everyone killed," he says, leaning over as if sharing a juicy rumor.

You aren't sure where he's getting his information, but one thing you know about this community is that they love to gossip. "Not in those words exactly, but yeah, he did say she was going to get everyone killed."

Merle looks at you with a sly smirk, leaning over, his tone devious, "I say we jack this place and take it for ourselves. You don't even need to lift a finger. Me and Brooklyn can do it tonight." Jamie coughs and huffs, like he inhaled the smoke wrong, looking from Merle to you rapidly with wide, teary eyes.

But Merle continues, "I'll put a knife to that old bat's neck and get the key to the armory, and be done with it. You ain't gonna find a better opportunity than now. From here on out, they gonna wake up and smell the fish."

A few days ago, you might have agreed with him, but now... "Hold on a minute there, cowboy," you say. "Rushing in like a bull in a china shop isn't gonna cut it," you begin.

But Merle counters, accepting the circling joint, "I've seen how you move, sweet cheeks, all this plannin' and strategizin'—while I can get it done faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kickin' contest."

"We can't," you say with a sigh, echoing Glenn's words. "We need to find a better way; we have to try to make this place work."

Merle shakes his head at you. "The only way we can make this place work is by takin' it. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, and if Daryl was here, he would agree with me on that, no doubt about it."

"Daryl is out there right now because he believes in this community, because he's trying," you retort with a scowl, knowing Merle is trying to pull the Daryl card on you.

You turn to Jamie, who has been unusually quiet throughout the conversation, and ask, "Do you feel the same way too?" After all, you had promised each other in that burned-out Woodbury home that you would make collective decisions.

"Look, I would've been dead long ago in Iraq if it wasn't for you. I made it home because I followed your orders. Nothing's gonna change that now just because we're behind a wall," Jamie says, looking at you with his bright eyes. "I'm still ridin' with you all the way."

You glance at Merle, and he shrugs his shoulders in defeat before passing the smoke to you.

"Just because we're not taking this place by force doesn't mean we can't be prepared for all possibilities," you say, looking at your brother-in-law as you contemplate the situation. "Let's start by hiding the gun somewhere safe—they might search the houses after what Rick did."

"Gun? What gun?" Jamie interjects, looking puzzled between you and Merle.

You and Merle exchange knowing glances, realizing Jamie doesn't know about the stolen gun. "If you could keep your damn lips shut, then maybe you could've been on the inside, hearin' all the juicy details," Merle retorts at Jamie, both of you well aware that Jamie can't keep a secret. "How about in your new lab? Ain't nobody gonna expect a gun in a church," he suggests, his gaze coming back to you.

"Some of the construction crew are working there now," you think out loud, recalling the ongoing renovations at the church, though you haven't seen exactly what they are doing. However, the idea of hiding the gun right under their noses has some merit. You could potentially blame it on people coming in and out, making it a plausible explanation if the situation ever arises. "The church office has one of those square coffered ceilings."

Jamie's confusion transforms into realization. "Wait, are y'all serious?" he asks, finally connecting the dots between Rick's gun and your discussion.

"It must suck to be left out in the cold, wonderin' what you missed, but we all know you just can't help yourself, always blabberin' like a damn parrot. Ain't nothin' worse than a loose tongue in this world, I tell ya," Merle comments with an amused smirk, teasing the soldier.

You glance at Jamie's hurt face, knowing that you don't have the emotional capacity to comfort him right now. The younger man immediately begins to complain further, his voice high-pitched, "oh, I see how it is around here, leave the only brother out of the loop just because I ain't got the name Dixon." His whining continues, but before you can respond, the back door opens, and Carol walks out with a determined expression on her face.

"There you are," she says, catching everyone's attention. "We need to talk," she states as she comes around to stand in front of you.

"You know, you don't need no excuse to come and see me," Merle remarks, leaning back and looking up at her, "why don't you have a seat and smoke a little," he adds with a wink.

She rolls her eyes at the man before turning her gaze to you. "Deanna just announced a meeting for tomorrow, and you know where this is going," she says with a serious voice. You sigh, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. You know Carol is involved in what happened with Rick and Pete in some way or form. It's evident in the way she approached you last night, perhaps hoping to get you on the same page with Rick, but now you're stuck cleaning up after their mess.

You tighten your grip on the walkie-talkie. God, you miss Daryl. Maybe you should have just told him everything that had transpired with Noah and Rick. If you had, he would have rushed here by now, could have been here with you—running his hand up and down your back or scoffing and telling you to "chill your ass down."

Carol marches to the Doctor's house, surrounded by the clatter of all the ladies and a few men. Her job is to spread the news and fuel the panic, and judging from the chaotic chatter, it seems she has done an excellent job. No one is really listening to each other; they all talk over one another, trying to keep up with Carol's brisk footsteps.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why Deanna has called for a meeting. From the looks of it, Carol can guess that the leader of this community is trying to oust Rick. Last night, she had pulled the Doctor away from the men to strategize separately. And, as always, the Doctor didn't disappoint. The plan was simple: undermine Deanna's opinion and sway the people of Alexandria to their side.

Together, the group gathers on the front deck of the Dixon household and rings the bell. As they wait, Carol notices the distressed expressions on some of the women's faces, while the men stand there with their arms crossed. Carol has often remarked that the people here are like children, so the plan is to treat them as such – dangle the candy in front of them and yank it away. In this case, the "candy" would be the promise of a cure.

The door finally opens, revealing Alice, holding a cup of coffee and looking confused, like she didn't plan for this at all. "Good morning—" Alice starts to greet, but before she can finish, one of the women shoves Carol aside and steps forward.

"Is it true you're leaving us?" the woman questions, and just like that, everyone starts talking again, bombarding the Doctor with questions, leaving her with her mouth wide open in surprise.

"What about everything you said?" Tobin, a man Carol had met on her second day in Alexandria, speaks, his loud voice overshadowing the rest. "My team is working on that church right now to create that lab for you." The other men who seem to be part of the construction crew with Tobin nods in agreement.

Alice sighs and steps back, opening her door wider. "Why don't you guys come in, and we can talk inside." she suggests.

One by one, they all enter and fill the living room area. Some take a seat, while others stand around. "We need that cure to be developed. We need you here to work on that," Carol begins, her voice soft as she gives the people around her the most desperate eyes she can muster, playing her part. "What's the chance of us finding another doctor capable of doing that?"

Amanda, a woman with fiery red hair she had seen talking to the doctor at the party, steps toward Alice. "My kids are little, and I'm all they have left. They need this cure; they need a chance to live, a fighting chance against this world," she says, her voice cracking on the verge of tears. "Please, you can't leave us."

As the doctor reaches for Amanda's hand, Carol can sense that the Alice Hart influence is about to come into play. "I don't want to leave—to be honest, I'd rather not be out there. But you all know there's a meeting happening tonight."

"Yeah, about Rick," one of the men chimes in. "About what he did."

Alice nods, not shying away from what happened. "Rick understands this world better than most of us," she says, squeezing the woman's hand. "He may not be my blood, but he's my brother, and he's been there for me—saved me, protected me. He's doing that for you guys now."

Carol tries to recall if Rick has ever actually protected or saved the doctor. In fact, she knows for a fact that it has been the other way around.

"Oh, really now," Shelly Neudermyer, the woman who is always talking about pasta makers, retorts from where she sits on the sofa. "Waving a gun around, threatening us is his way of protecting us?"

Carol opens her mouth to speak, but Alice beats her to it, her tone stern as she releases Amanda's hand and steps deeper into the room. "How many of you knew Dr. Pete was beating his wife?" she asks, her gaze moving through the room, challenging the men in the crowd. "How many of you actually did something about it? Where were you when one of your own was walking around with bruises on her face?"

Carol scans the men's faces, seeing some rub the back of their necks, while others look away in shame. But Alice doesn't let up; she continues to push through the crowd, questioning them further. "Where was your leader? What did Deanna do about it? Does it excuse his actions just because he's a doctor?" She turns her attention to the women, tugging at their feminine hearts, making it personal for them. "If that was you or your sisters, your mothers, your wives, your daughters, would that be okay? What were you waiting for? Until he killed her?"

The room falls into a hushed silence, and Carol knows they all know the truth, each and every one of them. They have all seen it but chose to ignore it or gossip about it instead.

Alice lets out a sigh and looks down, employing a push-and-pull approach. "Rick lost his wife to this world… while he fought to keep us safe from the dead… it's Carl, his little boy, who had to put his mother down," she says, her voice softening. Carol finds herself looking down as well, memories of Lori and how broken Rick had been after her death briefly flooding her mind.

"Imagine that," the doctor continues. "Now he's here, he sees a man like Pete, who had it all—his family safe behind a wall, good people like you supporting him. Yet, instead of protecting them, he beats his family as if this world hasn't already caused enough pain."

"The trauma of it all. The trauma of being out there, losing people he loved, watching his kids go hungry… Rick fought for that woman, for that mother, in ways he couldn't do for his wife. In ways none of you did for her."

"Trauma doesn't excuse what he did," a woman whom Carol has only briefly met rises from her seat on the sofa, her voice firm. "He stole a gun, pointed it at us—my kids were there. I can't accept that!" The room hums with murmurs as they whisper among each other.

"You're right, trauma is not an excuse," Alice says with a nod, her voice ringing with conviction. "But that means you can't accept what Deanna's going to do tonight either."

Carol has no idea where the doctor is going with this, but she watches intently. "She just lost her son a day ago—a mother who doesn't even have the body of her boy to bury." Carol looks down, biting her lips, internally shaking her head at the cleverness of the doctor. "You cannot tell me her judgment is not impaired, that she is not acting out of trauma. How can you trust her decisions and actions that affect you all? Should you allow this too?"

Bruce, another member of the construction crew, speaks up, "Deanna has done a lot for us; we're all here because of her."

Alice nods in agreement, "Yes, but you are all here… and what she does now at her weakest moments could mean the difference between life and death, could undo all the good decisions she ever made."

"Then what do you suppose we should do, huh?" Tobin chimes in, looking perplexed, and there are more murmurs in the group as they all nod in contemplation.

Carol lets out a triumphant sigh, knowing this is it. They are asking for guidance, asking what they should do, and it is only a matter of time before they start weighing Alice against Deanna. In all fields of the current world, Alice surpasses Deanna in a every measurable sense. She is smarter, knows how to connect with people, has real-life knowledge of surviving the world, and in their eyes, her 'cure' holds the key to humanity—Deanna doesn't stand a chance.

"You forgive Rick," Alice says with a gentle voice, bringing Carol back to the ongoing conversation. "Sure, his delivery could have been better, but you must listen to what he's saying. None of you are ready to deal with what's out there, the reality of the world. But you have to be, you must be able to grow stronger." Her pacing around the room brings her back to the woman with red hair, and the doctor grasps her hand again. "You must—you must be able to survive—for your kids, for your family."

As the doctor's eyes connect with the same mother, Alice presses where it might have the most impact. "If you decide to kick Rick out, he's not going to leave without his kids. That means you're kicking his little boy out, his infant child." The red-haired woman looks away as if the weight of the decision settles on her shoulders. "It means you're kicking me out, kicking all of us out."

With that, Alice steps back, standing by the opening, and addresses everyone in the room. "You need us here, people with real-life experience surviving out there to guide you," she says, her tone fierce with determination. She extends an olive branch, ensuring the road goes both ways. "And we need you to guide us, support us like you've been supporting me, and help us heal. We need each other."

The room falls silent, and people shuffle their feet, contemplating Alice's words. "I want you to go home and think about it," Alice says with a smile, shifting her body toward the door. "I will see you tonight at the meeting."

As the people start to move toward the exit, Carol walks out feeling confident. One way or another, everything will be alright. Now, she just has to make sure Rick has a backup plan, if push comes to shove.