She had lost count of the amount of times she'd had to run the grid-like pattern of intersecting streets, weaving between them as fast as her legs would carry her on her path to her house. Too often in her young life had life-threatening terrors both living and undead threatened her community, which necessitated this race back toward safety. She could hear her father's repeated warning ringing in her ears: "First sign of trouble, run for home and make yourself hidden, understand?"

This time, the danger was different. All was quiet within the barricaded steel walls of Alexandria, though still she ran as though her life depended on it. Hot tears stung her cheeks and blurred her vision, causing her to almost go careening into several of her neighbors as she rounded the corner toward home. She just barely had enough time to dodge them, and in her embarrassment, chose to run faster without acknowledging their concern over her emotional outburst. At long last, her house came into view. She skirted the right side, pushing open the fence that led into the backyard and letting it slam behind her. The bottom-most step was where she finally deposited herself, hugging her knees into her chest as sobs overtook her.

It was quiet for awhile, with the only discernible sound for a time being her stifled breaths and her own heartbeat pulsating in her ears. Then she heard another girl's voice from the front porch. "Gracie! Gracie?"

She flinched and instinctively held her breath, thinking that perhaps without making a sound, the source of the call would move along. But after several minutes of persistent pounding on the door, Gracie finally conceded that it was useless — she knew the girl would stay out there all night if she had to. And besides, this was drawing even more attention than she herself had already created.

"I'm back here!" she reluctantly cried out. Moments later, Judith Grimes materialized from the gate. Seeing how distraught her best friend was, she quickly took a seat by her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You can't let those jerks get to you. They don't even know what they're talking about!"

"They do," Gracie protested between sniffles. "He told them."

"Who?"

"Negan. He's been telling people about where I came from. That's how Vincent and Zach found out."

Judith sighed deeply. Vincent and Zach were two local Alexandrian boys a few years older than the girls were, and they had a surprisingly precise knack for knowing exactly how to get under their skin. Judith had briefly left Gracie behind at the town square to take her little brother R.J. for water, and upon returning saw the boys leering over a despondent Gracie, cruelly chiding her with the nickname "Savior Squealer." It was only when Vincent leaned in and whispered something into Gracie's ear that remained indiscernible to Judith that Gracie bolted.

"What'd he say to you? Vincent. He said something really bad, didn't he?"

Fresh tears formed in Gracie's eyes as she hysterically answered, "He said I'm probably Negan's daughter, for all we knew. But that's not true at all! My dad—" That word caught in her throat and hung in the air, before she demurely corrected, "…Aaron said that my dad died at the Sanctuary. He was someone else." Gracie shook her head and pulled her knees tighter into her chest as she whispered, "Unless he was lying."

"No, that's the truth." It would be years before Judith would reveal to Gracie how she could be so certain as to her father's fate, as it had been Judith's own father Rick Grimes who had been the one to seal it. For now, she only comforted her friend with, "Aaron would never lie to you. And the next time I see those two morons, I'm gonna teach them a lesson. They're gonna wish—"

"No, don't. They already think I'm a 'Savior Squealer.' I don't want anyone else getting in trouble." After a moment, Gracie quietly asked, "Judith? …do you think maybe one day I will be a traitor? My mom and dad were Saviors, which means they were bad guys. Do you think… I'll be bad too?"

"No!" Judith protested. "That's crazy!"

"It's just that…" Gracie sighed and shook her head. "It really sucks being the only kid here who never knew their parents."

"I don't," Judith blurted. Gracie's head turned toward her sharply, causing Judith to freeze. The outburst surprised even herself, as this was something she hadn't told anyone yet. Things were quiet for a time, until finally, she drew close to her, and with her voice barely above a whisper said, "Remember the last time I taught Vincent a lesson? Well a few days later, I went into the food pantry, and Rosita and Carol came in. They didn't see me, but I could tell Rosita was telling Carol about what happened that day, so I stayed quiet. Then Carol said, 'That's the Shane in her,' and a whole bunch of stuff about how I get this look in my eye when I get upset. Well, I asked around and it turns out, Shane was a guy who helped start our first group. I guess he and my mom… my real mom, Lori, were a couple when they thought my dad didn't make it during The Fall. Daryl says Rick's definitely my dad, but there's really no way to know for sure. And if Carol thinks she sees a lot of Shane in me… maybe Rick's not my dad. And if he's not my dad, and Michonne's not my mom, then that means I'm not actually related to R.J. But even if I never met my actual mom and dad, that doesn't mean he's not my brother. That doesn't mean Michonne's not my mom. …and it doesn't mean Aaron's not your dad."

Though Judith intended her words to calm her friend, Gracie found herself reeling. For awhile, they sat in silence, shoulder to shoulder, until Gracie said softly, "But if that man's your dad… maybe… Negan is mine."

"No," Judith said firmly. "There's no way."

"It might! Just like you said!"

"Well, even if you were, it wouldn't matter because you're nothing like Negan. You're like Aaron in every way."

Gracie shook her head. "That's not true. I can't fight like him."

Judith's mood suddenly shifted. "That's not your fault. He should be training you."

"Don't start," Gracie said with a sigh.

"I mean it!" Judith maintained. Just as Judith and Gracie were fast friends, so too were Aaron and Michonne, yet the only rift between them had long been Aaron's resistance to teaching Gracie basic defense tactics. While Michonne placed a katana in Judith hands almost as soon as she was able to hold one, Aaron opted to preserve his daughter's childhood innocence, vowing instead to create an environment where knowledge of weaponry and sparring wasn't needed. As with her mother, Judith also opposed his style of parenting. "Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked. "Maybe I could convince him to—"

"No. You know him— it'd be out of the question."

Judith breathed evenly from her nostrils. "Well, in the meantime, you've still got me. And I'll teach you how to take those bullies down."

But Gracie was unconvinced. "I dunno…"

"C'mon!" Judith said with a playful slap to her arm. "Hey, already you could take Zach in a fight! He couldn't even kill a walker if it was just a head rolling toward him!"

The girls burst into laughter, silenced only by the sound of the slamming of the front door, and Aaron within calling "Gracie?" She knew that the back stoop would be one of the first places he'd come looking for her, so she quickly wiped her tears away with her sleeve just in time for him to swing open the back door. When he saw the girls together, relief visibly washed over him. He stepped carefully around them and knelt in front of his daughter, his eyes darting between hers. "Hey," he cooed, "You okay? Dianne told me you were upset."

"I'm fine," she said dismissively with her head bowed.

He put his hand on her shoulder and craned his neck so that he remained in her eyesight. "I heard about what Negan's been saying. You don't have to worry about that anymore, okay?" He raised up his left arm, which presently had his spiked, morning star attachment affixed to his prosthesis. "He and I had a word, and… let's just say we came to an understanding."

"How'd that go?" said Judith skeptically. Aaron's swift glare and pursed lips told her everything she needed to know: This was Negan, and any threat from anyone, Aaron most of all, would go unacknowledged by the former Savior dictator. There was no such thing as "coming to an understanding" with Negan.

Turning his attention back to Gracie, Aaron said, "I need you to tell me which kids were bullying you. We'll have a chat. And then I'll have a chat with their parents."

"It's okay, It's not that big of a deal."

"Gracie, you ran through town crying your eyes out. Clearly, it's a big deal!"

"It's fine!" she insisted. "It's just kids stuff. Honest!"

Aaron then turned to Judith. "Who did it?" he asked.

Gracie knew Judith was completely willing and ready to name names, so she quickly blurted, "No! I don't want anymore trouble, I just want it to go away."

"It won't go away unless they learn their lesson," he insisted.

"You always told me to take the high ground," she protested. "To let all the stuff bullies throw at you roll off of you, just like you did when you were a kid!"

"I—well, yes," he sighed. "But I meant that in terms of mean comments said about you, or even mean comments said about you because of me. These kids are questioning your loyalty to this community. That's serious, and I'm putting an end to it."

But Gracie was steadfast in her decision. "It's fine, Daddy. I promise."

Aaron finally relented, however reluctantly. His grip tightened on her shoulder. "Then just… promise me you'll try to take with you something that I myself should have learned years ago, but still can't seem to learn: You don't have to stand by bad people in the hopes that they'll change, okay? Especially if it puts your own safety at risk. You're what's most important. You come first. Okay?"

As Gracie nodded, she stole a look at Judith, who wore a pleased "told you so" expression; her observation about Gracie's inherited instincts from Aaron to protect having just been proven right in front of her eyes.

"Alright," Aaron said, rising to his feet. He shooed Gracie up the steps into the house. "Go on, give me a hand with dinner." He then turned to Judith. "Daryl's out on duty tonight. Want to join us?"

She grinned. "Can I bring R.J.?"

He chuckled. "Nope. Invitation's open to you and only you." He teasingly tapped the brim of her hat so that it covered her eyes as he said, "Of course! Go on, go get him!"

Gracie had made her way back inside. Though her chest feeling lighter, her mind felt weight down with troubling thoughts about her true parentage. As she approached the kitchen sink to wash up, she wondered if the answers she sought couldn't be found through the people she loved. Maybe what was necessary was approaching the enemy. Just as this crossed her mind, she caught the tail end of a final exchange between her father and her best friend:

"— not happening." Aaron was saying, in a tone sharply contrasting the kindhearted manner in which he had addressed Judith not moments earlier.

"But sir," Judith protested, "My mom always says that kids today need to learn straight off how to protect themselves!"

"And that's great… for your mom." He sighed again and knelt down closer to her. "Listen, you're one of the toughest kids out there. And our community benefits from how strong and ready to leap into action you are. Your mom is an amazing lady and is doing a great job raising you and your brother. But I'm raising Gracie. And this is what I want for her. I want her to be safe here and not have to think about the world outside. I want her to be a kid. Someday, yes, she'll learn. She'll have to. But for now, she deserves—" He stopped himself here, and corrected with, "— you all deserve to just be happy. I want to make as normal a life for you guys as we can make here."

"But what if she gets in trouble?"

Aaron pondered this for a moment, then stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well, that's why she's lucky enough to have great friends like you around. Anymore danger like this though, you'll tell me? If you catch wind of anything?"

"Yes sir."

Gracie's heart sank upon hearing this. Despite Aaron's assurances to the contrary, he and Judith both were anticipating more trouble for her ahead. In that moment Gracie knew her worries about her family's wellbeing at her expense were far from over.

You don't have to stand by bad people in the hopes that they'll change, especially if it puts your own safety at risk.

Gracie took in a deep whiff of the frigid, autumnal Virginian air in hopes of calming her racing pulse. Ever since the attack, these words from her father were always at the forefront of her mind whenever she was about to make contact with a potential new addition to Alexandria, and they always sent her anxiety skyrocketing: Could she trust this group, and more importantly, could she trust herself in making the right call when it mattered most?

The gentle pattern of crunching leaves underfoot was suddenly interrupted by a loud snap. She jerked her head toward the source of the noise and found her eleven year-old son frozen in place a few paces behind her, a wince frozen on his face. Her eyes traced down to his slightly oversized boots she was certain he would have grown into by now, that presently had a spindly branch cracked in two.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?" she mouthed silently.

"Sorry!" he mouthed back.

With a slight tilt of her head, she motioned for him to come closer to him, and took his outstretched gloved hand in hers as they continued their trek onward. It wasn't long before they reached the stream. Though the top had mostly frozen over in a thin sheet of ice, a minuscule trickle kept some water flowing underneath. They had been watching this group for nearly two weeks now, so Gracie knew the only remaining child of the group, aged roughly thirteen or fourteen, would be here at around this time every morning. She released her son's hand and directed him to stand post behind a nearby tree. She crouched down behind a boulder and scanned the surrounding area.

She should have been there by now. It was getting late into the morning, and Gracie had gotten them both up strategically at this time so that they could approach her. This was a trick her father taught her from his own recruiting days: Approach the one person in a group you can get on their own. Someone less physically imposing, preferably female or ideally a female child. Gain their trust and have them lead you back to their camp. Start the pitch then. But with each passing minute without her target, her level of concern ballooned: Were they too late? Had the group moved on? Had they been ambushed by walkers? By a rival community? Or maybe worse yet; perhaps the girl had succumbed to the cold or hunger, just like the younger girl who they had seen turn overnight and nearly take down several within the group as a walker.

Her hawklike gaze had softened amidst this cloud of worry, until she felt her son's eyes boring into her. He turned to show her that at long last, the girl had arrived to the stream, her filthy and dented tin bucket that she used to collect water in hand as she approached. Her hair was long, matted, possibly blonde, but hard to tell amidst the grime of the winter woods. Based on her observations, Gracie knew this girl was barely more than skin and bones beneath her heavy winter attire, a confusing combination of scavenged knit clothing and animal pelts. This girl was wearing more attire today than the last time Gracie had seen her at the stream, and a chill went through her as she spotted a hole-ridden lime green sweater stained with blood wrapped around her neck— the same sweater she had seen the now-deceased younger girl wearing.

Gracie waited until she was fully distracted with her task, then with a wave of her hand, she and her son moved in tandem toward the girl. It was but seconds before the girl's head jolted upward upon their approach. She dropped the bucket with a loud clang against the ice and scrambled backwards up the ravine.

"Hi there," Gracie said with a warm smile. "My name is Gracie. This is Eric." She put both hands up defensively in front of her, keeping them visible at all times. Eric quickly followed suit, remaining silent at his mother's side. "I'm a friend," she continued. "Please don't be afraid."

There was a high probability that the girl didn't speak English. Gracie never had access to some of the listening devices Aaron used in the first few years he recruited for Alexandria after The Fall, so she couldn't accurately say whether or not they used any form of traditional language whatsoever. These were, after all, Ferals; small communities of humans who abandoned civilization and social ideals in favor of a more pack-like, animalistic form of group organization. Many nearby communities were antagonistic toward Ferals, worried about their potential to organize, attack, and loot their resources. But in Alexandria's experience to date, these groups were very small and nomadic, and had rarely caused trouble with hunting parties. Though many within the community disagreed with Gracie's mission to bring a few of the nearby Ferals into Alexandria, she had the express and unwavering approval of the Governor, and that was all she needed. But if this was a non-verbal Feral community, there was no way this girl could communicate with her, so Gracie knew she would have to do her utmost to appear as non-threatening as possible.

She motioned for Eric to crouch low to the ground once they had moved in so close, that only the stream separated them. Still keeping their palms out and hands up high, Gracie kept repeating soothingly, "It's okay, we're not here to hurt you. Do you think maybe you can take us to who's in charge?" But neither were prepared for the sharp screech that left the girl's mouth, causing both of them to jump.

"Okay," she murmured under her breath so that only Eric could hear, "Get ready to run." They stood up slowly, but found themselves frozen in place with the realization that they were now surrounded on all sides. A dozen people looking just like the girl were encroaching, aiming spears, javelins, and arrows right at them. Again, Gracie and Eric raised their hands, this time in surrender.

"Mom?" he asked, his voice elevated in panic.

"Shh, it's okay," she muttered through gritted teeth. "I've got it all under control."

But when she felt the sharp blow at the base of her head that ultimately would knock her unconscious, she immediately regretted the lie.