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BabySlothXYaoi- The last Chapter was definitely fun to write, if not just because I got to spend time with characters that have been sidelined for a little while now. No spoilers, don't worry, but the poker joke will be ongoing and I love it. Maggie and Glenn are interesting to me because I never planned for them to be big characters when I started this story, I think the only character's that I had plans for getting close to Rhys were Carl and Karen (obviously), Rosita, and Sasha. Characters like Tara and Tyreese just sort of wrote themselves in terms of Rhys' relationships, which I'm thrilled about... The same goes for Maggie, I had no plans for her to be such an important figure to Rhys, but by the time I wrote that scene, it just felt right. I loved their teamwork too... but for this chapter... Rhys has got to face things alone.
We wait outside their leader's house, sitting inside a clean cobbled courtyard with polished white steps leading up to a chocolate-brown door. A woman who introduces herself as Olivia stops by and places a jug, of what she tells us is lemonade, on a table with a sweet smile, all of us stay well clear of it, sticking to our bottled rainwater.
Tara asks me if I'm nervous.
"Yeah, you?"
"Yeah," she breathes. "Still though... go team TEAMGRR, right?"
"TEAMGRR," I nod.
Tara and I are the last to be called up, both of us waiting patiently.
The chocolate door opens, Carl stepping out with Judith in his arms. "Rhys," Carl nods, "She wants you to go next."
"Shit."
Tara offers up a fist bump, and I accept.
"Get in there, Champ," she grins.
The door doesn't creak when I close it, making me feel unsettled for some reason.
Just me now, alone in the house.
"Come through when you're ready."
Not alone.
I step into the next room, a grand sitting room. Tall windows let light warm the dark oak floors, with french doors stretching up, touching a high pale ceiling and leading onto a back porch. My bloody red trainers track mud on the varnished floorboards. Bookcases stand from floor to ceiling, messily stacked hardbacks inhabiting their dustless shelves. I notice a large number of books on law and politics. I have to squint to read all the diplomas framed on the wall.
I peer further into the room.
A thin-faced woman, looking to be in her fifties, is sitting on a dark leather sofa, with thin light brown hair hanging to her shoulders. Her clothes are clean and particular. There's an empty patterned chair sitting opposite the woman, a cluttered coffee table in-between them.
I notice a bloody handprint on one of the window frames, most likely left by one of us. Beyond the window, a church steeple peaks in from past the community's wall.
The woman wears no expression until I follow her gesture to the patterned chair. "Please, sit," she asks me.
I do, nodding gratefully.
"My name's Deanna Monroe," she finally smiles, and I don't trust it. I don't trust it because it's warm and believable.
"Rhys," I gasp, not realising until now that I've been holding my breath.
"It's delightful to meet you, Rhys. Is that Welsh?"
I nod slowly.
She smiles again, "Rhys what, may I ask?"
"Washburne," I clear my throat, "Rhys Washburne."
"Carl spoke very highly of you," she gestures to the standing camera behind her sofa, which is pointing at me over her shoulder with a blinking red light. "Is it okay that I'm recording?"
I nod again.
"So Rhys, are you fourteen, same as Carl?"
Now I shake my head. "Fifteen," I tell her with a gulp.
"Almost old enough to drive," she smirks in a wise way.
Now I'm nodding again, starting to feel dizzy, too.
She's still smiling, crossing her legs. "Good."
She lets the room get quiet, and it frightens me. It terrifies me how easily she does it, sucking the volume from the messy room and leaving nothingness in its wake. She watches me the whole time, gauging my reaction.
She leans forward on the sofa, shattering the silence with squeaking leather. "Do you mind if I ask you questions?"
"No."
"How long have you been with Rick?"
"Awhile."
"Were you at this... prison?" She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing slightly like she's trying to catch me in a lie.
"Yes."
"Where were you before? Still with Rick?"
"No," I crack my knuckles, the feeling giving me some breathing space. "I was on the road..."
"And in your time with Rick... do you trust him?"
The question rubs me as strange. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I'm alive... we're alive, because of Rick."
Deanna leans back, sinking into the sofa.
"You came to America before the outbreak?" She asks.
"Yeah, a little while before."
"Did you come with your family?"
I shake my head. "A friend... he's gone."
"How do you know he's gone?"
I blink at her. "Because he's not here."
Deanna nods, seemingly satisfied by my answer.
"If you don't mind me asking," she utters, "what was your life like before?"
I scrunch up my face, not sure how to answer. Deanna notices this, giving me time to think.
"I lived in England, born in Wales," I start, "I went to school... I lived with my Mum and Dad."
"What did they do?" Deanna picks it from my rambling.
"My Dad was an IP lawyer. My Mum worked in journalism... she was a war correspondent."
Deanna nods, seeming impressed. "Did you want to follow in their footsteps? Do you still?"
I shake my head.
"What job did you want?"
I shrug.
"Rhys, why are you here?" Deanna asks, appearing to try a different set of questions now, her arsenal of them far from dry.
"To keep my family safe," I tell her. I make a small head gesture towards the door, towards my people.
She squints at me hard. "All of them?"
"All of them."
"That's a big family."
I don't say anything to this.
"Have you ever killed someone?" Deanna asks me seriously.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He was coming at me, and I couldn't hesitate."
"You couldn't hesitate?"
"Yes."
"What happens when you hesitate?"
"People can die."
"Someone did die, though," she frowns in an unjudgemental way, looking more confused.
"Someone that matters dies," I rephrase.
"Who were you protecting?"
"All of them."'
"From the dead?"
"From cannibals."
Deanna sits up a little after that.
"Rhys, do you know what my job was before this?"
"Politician?" I ask.
She looks impressed, smirking at me. "How did you know?"
I point to her diplomas, then the bookcase behind me. "My Dad always brought home politicians... guess I recognise the type."
"He sounds important."
"He was an asshole."
She chuckles at this.
After a moment, she serves me another question. "Who matters to you?"
I pause, taken aback by the query. "Carl. Judith- all of them." This time I nudge my shoulder in the direction of the door.
"Carl... why did you say him first."
"I just did."
She leans forward, smirking again. "He said you first, too."
Again, I say nothing, scared of how much she'll be able to take if I do speak.
She points to the hammer under my belt, "That's an interesting choice of weapon. Both for destroying and building."
"It belonged to someone that mattered to me."
"Was that Tyreese?"
I blink at her, stunned by how much she knows.
"His sister, Sasha, mentioned your closeness to him," Deanna explains. "She doesn't like talking about herself... so I asked her to talk about others."
I stay quiet, trying very hard to hide how impressed I am.
"Why did he matter to you? Who was he to you?"
"Family."
"He wasn't always," she points out.
I don't say anymore.
Deanna points a long pale finger to the door I entered through. "Three names."
"What?"
"Three names," Deanna repeats herself, "there are three people that mentioned you more than most."
"Yeah?"
She smiles tightly and nods, knowing she has my interest. "Sasha Williams. Carl Grimes. Rosita Espinosa."
I keep staring at her.
She looks proud of herself for remembering their names.
Then she leans closer. "Who are they to you? Don't say family."
"I don't know what to say."
She somehow moves closer again before saying, "When the three of them told me about you... it sounded like they were all talking about different people."
I just stare at her, my eyes probably wide.
"Sasha gave me the impression you were cold... not in a bad way. She told me you could get things done." Deanna chuckles to herself, "Took me a while to get her to open up... but she told me about how you 'stepped up' at the prison when others were sick, her words, not mine."
I shrug. "Sasha's always been there. I know she's there for me. I'm there for her too."
"Like a sister," Deanna states.
"I wouldn't know," I tell her.
"Carl gave me the impression that you were kind. Caring, even." She smirks again. "You can see how this differs from what Sasha said about you."
"Carl sees the best in people," I tell her. I pause fiddling with my acoustic bracelet. "He brings it out of them too."
"So one might say he's your north star?" Deanna asks, her right eyebrow lifting.
"My what?"
She thinks of a way to put it. "Someone that shows you the way when you lose your path."
When I don't speak, Deanna moves on, not needing me to confirm her observation.
"Rosita..." she breaths through a tight smile, like she's exhausted by the thought. "She gave me the idea that you were smart, that you have good instincts."
"She taught me a lot of it," I admit.
"Which makes her what?" Deanna ponders, looking around the room for inspiration. "Your teacher? Your closest friend? Everyone needs someone that they can speak to without filters, without the worry of what they may think... is that Rosita?"
Once again, I say nothing.
"You know," Deanna tells me, leaning forward again and shaking her head, seemingly in disbelief. "When I was done with those three, I thought to myself... 'How can someone be these things? Kind, yet cold and practical? Smart and instinctive, yet thoughtful?' ...sounded like pie in the sky to me."
I'm not sure if I'm being insulted or complimented.
"Do you want to be here, Rhys?"
"Yeah..."
"Good, we need someone like you."
"Like me?"
"So far, I've seen everything that those three spoke of. That you're level headed, you love hard, and you're a quick study."
"Quick study?" I ask.
"Yes. You know, you're the only one I've interviewed so far that hasn't broken eye contact since you sat down. You worked out who I was. You know how to read people."
"I don't."
"Aaron told me you trusted him, believed him about this place."
"I didn't trust him at first."
"That's a good thing."
"Maybe."
Deanna sighs, "Not only that, but you surround yourself with strong people. Sasha and Rosita strike me as very strong people, and they also strike me as women who have a good judge of character... people that don't trust easily. Yet they both trust you. That tells me a lot."
I shuffle in my seat uncomfortably, not enjoying the analysis.
"And Carl," Deanna sits back again, chuckling and waving a hand in the air, "I don't know where to begin with how strong he is."
I can't help but let a small smile creep onto my face.
"You know, I need to give you a job," Deanna tells me.
"Uh-huh."
"What job did you have at your prison?"
I feel a jab to my gut, remembering working on the fences. Deanna notices this.
I clear my throat in an attempt to avoid it, "I cleared walkers off the fences."
"Who did you lose?" She doesn't let it go.
"A woman named Karen."
"Who was she."
"She was the one that saved me. She was the first anyway."
"How did she save you?" Deanna looks at her wristwatch. "From the dead?"
I shake my head. "She was nice to me when I got to the prison. She was kind. She taught me how to be normal."
"What happened to her."
"What always happens."
"So you're good at dealing with the dead?" Deanna drives her focus back to what I said about the fences.
I shrug.
"Do you want to be a supply runner?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I don't want to watch more people die... and I made a promise."
Deanna understands this. "Tomorrow. I want you to come back here."
"Why?"
"Because I'll have a job for you by then."
She stands up, so I do too. I walk for the door, wanting to be outside.
"Rhys..."
I turn, looking at Deanna's face, all lines and creases as she smiles.
"Welcome to Alexandria."
I leave through the chocolate door, nodding to Tara that it's her turn. She meets me halfway on the steps. I offer up a fist bump, "TEAMGRR."
She grins, "The one and only."
A/N
Gahh, I've been so looking forward to releasing this chapter, when I started writing the fic, I always kept this chapter in mind as a milestone. I love Deanna.
