Chapter Two

"So, let's let things come out of the woodwork

I'll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies"

Homemade Dynamite by Lorde

My body had apparently needed all the rest, because I didn't wake up until the next morning. A tray of some kind of stew and crackers was sitting on the small desk in my cell from the night before, untouched. Someone must have brought it in and I hadn't so much as cracked open an eye.

So I found myself sitting on the edge of the bunk bed, after forcing myself to set up, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I wasn't the "survive a zombie apocalypse" type. I wasn't a Maggie or a Michonne or a Carol. The most I could offer was the knowledge I had picked up over the many lives I had lived and an inappropriate joke here and there.

I had been a doctor a few times, so I could definitely provide healthcare. That was a little helpful. I had been in the military once, a while back, and been a police officer at some point, so I had a general knowledge of guns. I was a pretty decent shot, which had to work in my favor a little bit. I could cook something from minimal ingredients, thanks to my brief life during the Great Depression.

That was all I had. That and my knowledge of the events that were supposed to happen to the group, but I couldn't exactly tell them that. I could only imagine walking up to Rick just to say, 'Hey, totally crazy but if you guys ever see the sign for Terminus, don't go there. They will literally try to eat you. Okay, bye!' Because that sounds psychotic.

I groaned out loud and dropped my head into my hands. I was in this damn place in my body. Which only made me think maybe this was it. This was the last life. Why else would I be me? What kind of cruel fucking joke was the universe trying to play?

"You having another one of your moments?" I heard a voice drawl from the bars of my cell.

My head snapped up and I locked eyes with Rick. I had been in the midst of a mental break yesterday, so I didn't have time to really take him in. He was clean. His eyes looked clear. That had to be a good sign. We were either pre-Lori dying or post his little psychotic break.

"Probably," I said, standing up and taking a couple steps towards him, "Do you think you can take me to the bathroom? And possibly to shower? I smell worse than the dead right now."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, and I don't think I have any spare clothes. If I could steal some from someone, I'd really appreciate it. Also I'm hungry. Like really, really hungry. I didn't wake up to eat last night."

I was asking for a lot here, but I didn't care. If I didn't shower and get food in my stomach immediately, I would pass away.

"You think you can answer some more of my questions before we do all that?" Rick countered as he rested his forearms on the bars.

I couldn't help the eyeroll. I really couldn't.

"I'm alone. No one will be looking for me, I promise. I got out of New York with some friends, but they all died. Lone survivor here. I can help your group, if you let me stay. I was a doctor, I'm a decent cook, I'm good with guns. I'm not crazy. I won't kill anyone," I listed, staring Rick in the eye.

Because I was a fan of the show, and a huge fan of Rick himself, one would assume I would be more excited to just be in his presence, but I just wanted to shower right now. I didn't want to play twenty questions and have to make up a hundred lies to cover my ass.

Rick raised an eyebrow at me again.

"I don't know if we can trust you yet," Rick said.

"And I don't know if I can trust you yet. Listen, I just want to shower and eat. If you decide at any point that I'm a threat, you can drop me off somewhere far, far away and I will never darken your doorstep again. I'm one person and I'm assuming, from the amount of voices I've heard coming and going, you have quite a few people here," I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

"We've had one single person cause problems for us before."

"Just let me shower. You can even hold my hand while I'm in there, if you want to," I said, placing my hands on my hips with an annoyed exhale.

This man could test the patience of Jesus himself.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second as a blush crept across his cheeks.

"I'll have Carol come get you," he said, shaking his head, "But if you harm - "

"Any of your family I will die. Noted," I cut him off.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but he didn't look angry. If anything, he looked like he wanted to laugh.

"Fast learner. Must be all that doctor training," he joked as he turned on his heel and left me in the cell alone.

Carol had appeared pretty quickly with some folded clothes and a grocery bag of hygiene items. She was doing her "den mother" act that I'd watched her do a hundred times before on the show, trying to get nonexistent information out of me as she led me to the bathroom.

As we walked through the cellblock, which I quickly realized was the block the main group stayed in, she told me about the prison and asked various questions. I answered politely, but if I was being honest, Carol scared the shit out of me. More so than anyone else on the show. She was smart and she had no limits on what she would do to save the group. If Carol thought I was a threat, I might as well kiss my ass goodbye, because she would not hesitate to take me out.

After she showed me the pump mechanism for the showers, she left me alone, stating in a stern voice that she would be 'right outside the door' if I needed anything.

I didn't even care that the water was lukewarm. It felt like I was in heaven for a moment, until I looked down to see all the dirt and blood circling the drain. That prompted me to start washing my hair and skin aggressively, being cautious of the bruise on my side and the lump on my head.

After scrubbing off the dirt and probably a few layers of skin, too, I wrapped a towel around my body and carefully brushed through the rat's nest that was my hair. It took an embarrassing amount of time to get my long hair into a manageable state, but I genuinely felt better afterwards. I brushed my teeth and then started to pull on the clothes Carol had given me.

The black leggings were comfortable, definitely better than the blood soaked jeans I had on previously. The bra was one cup size too small, but I wasn't going to complain. I had pretty big boobs and I couldn't imagine it was easy to find well fitting stuff in the apocalypse. The maroon v-neck and dark flannel fit perfectly and surprisingly, so did the white tennis shoes she had given me.

I threw everything back into the bag and wrapped my dirty clothes up in the towel. Looking in the mirror before I left the room, I found myself stunned again as I looked at my face. I didn't think I would ever get used to seeing me again.

I walked out of the bathroom to find Carol leaning against the wall right next to the door.

"I'm sorry that it took so long. I was disgusting," I said to her.

"Don't even worry about it, honey. I took just as long when we finally got the shower situation taken care of. You already look like you feel better. Why don't you go put your stuff back in your room and we can go hunt down some food? I think they're making some deer for lunch," she offered, smiling at me.

But I could see the underlying skepticism on her face. The way her eyes seemed to take in every little thing about me. It made a shiver run down my spine.

"Do you think I can just grab some food and go back to my room afterwards?" I asked her, "I think I want to be alone today, if that's okay. You can lock the cell door or whatever behind me, if you need to."

I should probably try harder to meet everyone, become friends with them or something, but I was honestly not digesting any of this well. The thought of talking to anyone made me want to projectile vomit. I didn't think I was emotionally capable of handling the distrusting looks and prying questions right now.

"Are you still not feeling well?" Carol asked, fake concern coloring her tone.

"Yeah, my side is still hurting and I have a headache," I said, looking down at the floor.

It wasn't necessarily a lie. I did have a small headache and the ache in my side, while considerably better than when I woke up yesterday, still didn't feel great.

Carol was quiet for a moment before I heard her sigh.

"Listen, you don't have to lie to me," she said quietly and my eyes snapped up to hers, "Being around a lot of people when you're finally somewhere safe is a lot. It's hard to deal with, especially if you've lost everyone. I get it. Why don't you go hang out in your room and I'll bring you a plate? I'll make sure everyone gives you some space for a few days. How does that sound?"

She thought I was being standoffish because I missed people I'd lost, which couldn't be further off base, but I'd let her believe what she wanted. She actually sounded sincere when she spoke this time, which eased some of the tension in my shoulders.

"That honestly sounds great. Thank you, Carol. Really," I said, reaching out to squeeze her hand once.

I turned away from the woman and made my way back to my cell. Carol didn't follow, so I assumed she wasn't going to lock me in, not that it mattered much. I had every intention of hiding out in my room for the rest of the day.

Jogging up the stairs to the second level, I headed down the long walkway, looking in every cell I passed. I made a game of trying to guess what room belonged to what person. It kept me entertained until I got to my area, which was just sad looking. If I was going to be here for a while, I should get some things to decorate it.

I designated a spot for dirty clothes and lined the hygiene stuff Carol had given me up on the dresser. I spent a few minutes moving everything around and singing quietly to myself, just trying to stay busy when a heavily accented voice about gave me a heart attack.

"Ya got a beautiful voice, angel."

I turned quickly, wincing at the pain in my side, to find Merle Dixon leaning against the entrance to my room with his arms crossed and a grin on his face. My mouth fell open for a second, because for some reason I assumed Merle was dead by now. The way the showers had been set up and Rick's lack of crazy had made me think I had woken up somewhere between season three and four, or possibly just in season four somewhere before they left the prison. If Merle was alive though, it must be earlier than that.

My eyes caught on the contraption he had over his missing hand, noting he didn't have the dagger on it right now.

"Ya know what strikes me as odd?" He asked before I could say anything, "I swear I've heard ya voice before. When I was getting the shit beat out of me by some very bad men. They heard ya singin' and it distracted them long enough for me to make a break for it. Weird, huh?"

Several thoughts filtered through my brain, starting with: What the fuck is he talking about?

"I'm sorry. I don't think I know who you are," I said slowly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Name's Merle. But from the look on yer face when ya seen me just now, sure did look like ya knew me."

I shrugged my shoulders and maintained eye contact with the man.

"I think I'd remember you. You don't look like the type one forgets easily," I responded.

Merle squinted his eyes as he kept looking at me. I could tell by the expression on his face that he didn't believe me, which was understandable. I obviously knew who he was, but I didn't know what he was talking about. I'd been in this world for less than twenty-four hours. It wasn't possible that he had heard me anywhere except for in this cell.

"Huh. Must be mistaken, then," he said slowly.

"Must be."

Merle nodded his head and then seemed to relax as the lines on his face softened slightly. I was trying to figure out what caused his demeanor to shift when I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

His head turned slightly to glance down the walkway.

"What're ya doin'?" A gruff voice asked.

Daryl Dixon.

I wasn't the biggest fan of Daryl. I liked him, but I think everyone who watched the show liked Daryl. He was Daryl, but he just hadn't been my favorite character.

"Just talkin' with our new friend here," Merle smirked before turning his head back in my direction.

"The hell ya talkin' 'bout?" Daryl growled as he stopped beside his brother.

But then Daryl Dixon's eyes met mine and the weirdest thing happened. It felt like the first time I heard a song and just knew it was about to be one of my all time favorites. Like I had taken a shot of whiskey and the sweetest burn spread throughout my body.

I had met many people throughout my existence and grown to care about quite a few of them. I've had people that meant a lot to me, kids I had birthed, grandkids I watched grow up, held the hands of friends and family as they died. I'd carried people with me in my heart from one life to the next. One of the greatest benefits of living so many lives was that I had gotten the pleasure to know and love so many incredible individuals.

What I hadn't experienced with anyone, in any of the bodies I had inhabited over the years, or even in my own body in my original life, was what I felt when Daryl Dixon's eyes locked on mine.

I had a fleeting thought that something deep in my soul had been waiting to meet this man, but I shook it off. I was probably just fangirling. Who wouldn't fangirl a little over Daryl? With his bright blue eyes and his gorgeous arms… I was staring at his arms. Like, full on open-mouthed staring at the man's arms.

I snapped my eyes up to his again and noticed the pink tint to his cheeks.

"Hi, I'm Scarlett," I said, my voice sounding weird, even to my own ears.

"Daryl," the man grunted.

"My baby brother is a man of few words, if ya couldn't tell," Merle chuckled, taking way too much delight in Daryl's embarrassment.

"You should take a page out of your brother's book," I suggested, earning a glare from Merle.

"Yer a spitfire, angel," Merle drawled out, "I think I like you."

"I'm not sure if I should be happy or scared by that," I replied with a small smile in his direction.

"Both, if ya were smart," Daryl mumbled before turning to Merle, "I need yer help with somethin'."

"And what would that be, Darylina?"

"We got some wild pigs. Can ya help me or not?"

Aside from Daryl's voice sending a pleasant warmth through my body, fear and confusion speared through me for two reasons. First, if they were bringing in pigs, that meant this was absolutely somewhere between seasons three and four, like I had originally thought. Which meant Merle should definitely be dead at this point. If that was off, what else could be wrong that I wouldn't be able to predict or stop? Second, I was pretty sure the pigs were the reason for the sickness that killed a ton of people in the prison during season four. They didn't outright say that on the show, I didn't think, but I had seen a bunch of fan theories saying it was contracted from the pigs.

Realistically, there were multiple illnesses that it could actually be. Tuberculosis, some variant of the Spanish Flu, just a really aggressive strain of the normal flu. If it wasn't the pigs and the sickness still spread, I would figure that out, but if it was the pigs and I didn't try to stop it, I'd feel like an asshole. Regardless, I wasn't going to die from this shit.

Death hadn't scared me in a very long time, but now that I was possibly on my very last life, I couldn't help but be a little nervous of the unknown.

I looked up at Daryl, who was saying something to Merle with an exasperated look on his face. I wanted to keep staring at him, but instead I opened my mouth.

"Don't bring wild pigs inside the gates," I said, scrambling for a story I could sell to back up my demand.

I felt both mens eyes turn to me with questioning looks and I took a deep breath.

"Listen, something is wrong with the pigs in this area. They're carrying some kind of flu. I saw it when I was out there. It makes you really fucking sick. Fever, chills, cough, the whole nine yards. But then you start choking on the fluid build up in your lungs and blood comes from your eyes, nose, throat, and ears. It kills you. Painfully," I explained to the dumbfounded men.

"And when did ya see this happen?" Merle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Within the last week or two," I answered.

"Who?"

"My last group," I responded evenly.

"They all died?" Daryl asked, a roughness coating his tone.

I nodded my head and the brothers shared a look.

"Yer gonna need to talk to Officer Friendly, angel," Merle said, his eyes landing back on me.

"I'll go get him," Daryl said as he turned to leave.

Merle and I were alone again. Which was unfortunate, but I decided then that I didn't have time for any pity parties and my wallowing would need to be put on pause. Daryl bringing up the pigs reminded me again how absolutely insane this world was. If I wanted to live for longer than twenty-four hours, I was going to have to pull myself together.

That would start by building relationships with people. And having loved this show as much as I did, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that if anyone knew how to survive, it was the Dixon's. So, instead of laying on the uncomfortable bunk and crying about the loss of air conditioner like I had planned to do, I sat at the chair in front of the small desk, turning towards Merle with a bright smile on my face.

"You've called me angel three times now. Is there a reason why or do you tend to flatter all the women around here?" I asked him.

"Seen ya tattoo when Daryl carried ya in yesterday," Merle responded, with a shit eating grin.

My eyes widened for a second.

"Daryl's the only other one that seen it. Saw the marks on ya," Merle said, his face softening for the briefest moment.

"Daryl's the one that brought me here?" I asked, changing the subject.

I wasn't in the mood to trauma bond with someone over shitty parents.

Merle nodded his head, "Found ya out in the woods. All banged up, lying next to some walkers. You take 'em out?"

Hell if I know.

"I think so. I hit my head pretty hard, though. I don't remember exactly how I ended up there," I shrugged.

"Ya get Hershel to look at it? And that bruise on yer side? Looked pretty nasty yesterday."

"I think he looked when I first got here, but I can take care of it now. I was a doctor before," I explained with a smile.

Merle let out a whistle.

"Pretty, beautiful voice, sassy, and smart? Now that just ain't fair, sweet cheeks," he chuckled.

"Oh, Merle. Flattery will get you everywhere with me," I responded with a laugh of my own.

"Merle! Bring 'er out here," Daryl's gruff voice sounded.

Merle's head turned slightly to look over the railing outside my room and I caught a small eye roll as he looked back at me.

"Officer Friendly and his merry band of assholes would like a word," Merle said, causing me to laugh as I stood up.

I stepped towards the doorway, but Merle didn't move.

"You're coming with me, right?" I asked, my eyebrows drawing together slightly.

Maybe I did already trauma bond with Merle during our twenty minute conversation, because the thought of going out there alone made me nauseous.

Merle laughed and gave me an uncharacteristically genuine smile.

"Right behind ya, angel."

I returned his smile and squared my shoulders. I was a professional at performing for people and this was no different. I just needed to convince them not to bring those fucking pigs in here. That couldn't be too hard, right?

So I strode out of the cell with Merle right behind me. As I hit the stairs I finally looked down at the people in front of me. The Walking Dead fan in me wanted to squeal, but the part of me that wanted to live quickly shut that shit down.

At the bottom of the steps Rick stood with Daryl, whose eyes were watching my every movement. I sent a small smile to him, which only made his cheeks turn pink again and his eyes shift away from me quickly.

Behind them stood others. Sasha, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Bob, Carol, and Carl formed a semi-circle around the two men, watching me as I walked down the steps with Merle. Carol had a plate in her hands and when my eyes met hers as I made it to the bottom, she gave me a small smile and stepped forward to hand me the dish.

Quite literally nothing else mattered as I looked at the food. Some kind of meat, rice, and corn. My stomach let out a loud rumble.

"Good fucking God. This looks delicious," I breathed, as I reached for the fork on it and shoveled a bite of corn into my mouth.

My eyes closed for a second. I knew I had been hungry, but that first bite almost brought me to my knees. A snicker sounded behind me and I looked back to find Merle watching me with clear amusement on his face.

"Don't you laugh at me, Merle. I was starving. You're lucky I didn't start chewing on you up there," I said.

"Unless you like the taste of cigarettes and liquor, I would advise against that, sweet cheeks," the man teased, bringing a smile to my face.

I backed up and sat at the bottom of the steps before looking at Rick, who was watching me with cautious amusement.

"Hi, friends. I'm Scarlett," I started, waving at the group with my fork still in my hand, "Did Daryl tell you what I said about the pigs?"

I shoved another bite in my mouth as Rick nodded his head.

"He did, but I want you to tell us exactly what you saw again."

I raised an eyebrow up at him as I chewed the rice.

"You have an aversion to saying please, don't you?" I said, causing Merle to snort as he dropped to sit on the step behind me, but I launched into the same spiel I had given Daryl and Merle before.

"That doesn't sound impossible. Birds and pigs are how diseases used to spread," Hershel said thoughtfully when I finished.

The group in front of me started debating as I kept eating. My eyes followed the conversation, bouncing from person to person like I was watching a basketball game. It was a surreal moment. I shoved a piece of the meat in my mouth and let out a quiet groan.

"This is so freakin' good."

"It's deer meat," Merle said quietly, "Daryl caught it yesterday."

"This could change everything for us, though," Rick said loudly to the group, causing me to tune back in, "It could provide a way for us to eat for a long time."

"But will it matter if we all end up dying from some kind of weird flu?" Glenn responded, putting his hands on his hips.

I kept listening while I ate. Maybe there was a way to treat the pigs? Hershel used to be a vet. Maybe if I could convince them to go to the vet college, like they had in the show, there'd be something Hershel could do? We could quarantine them away from everyone and mask up anyone who treated them or fed them until they were healthy. And if we went to get the meds, if someone did get sick, we could help them anyway and prevent anything from becoming unmanageable.

I cleared my throat and the group looked at me.

"There's a vet college I passed a while ago. If there's someone here that's good with animals, maybe we could isolate the pigs and treat them. Keep contact minimal with everyone else. We could completely raid the college while there. The same medications they use for animals are what we would need for people, anyway. It couldn't hurt to have an overabundance of medication handy. That way if someone does get sick, I can treat them," I offered to the group.

"I know exactly the place you're talking about. The veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech. People may not have thought to look there for medication. It's not a terrible idea," Hershel agreed, "I can treat the pigs. I've had to do similar things before."

"Could be a big risk, though. That's about fifty miles out," Daryl said.

"We've raided every pharmacy nearby. It might be worth it," Glenn countered.

Everyone was quiet for a moment and then Rick looked over at me with a hard face.

Fabulous. He's about to shut me down completely.

My shoulders sagged a little bit as I took another bite of my food. I don't even know why I thought Rick would listen to me. It took an act of God to get him to trust new people.

"You'll go, if we do this," he stated.

"Hold on a damn minute. She has a bruise covering her side and a knot on her head that ya can see right now. She doesn't need to be out there until she's healed," Merle jumped in to defend before I could say anything.

Which surprised me so bad I choked on a piece of corn and threw myself into a coughing fit.

"It's her idea. She should be the one to execute it. We've all done more with worse injuries," Rick responded, shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't mean shit. She's a doctor. She's useful here. Not like we have an unlimited supply of doctors runnin' around," Merle growled.

"Which is why it might be a good idea for her to see what medications would be useful to bring back."

I was scared of leaving the prison. I hadn't seen a walker in person yet and I didn't want to ever, if I was being honest, but that wasn't the reality I was living in. I had to help if I wanted to stick around with these people.

"I can go. It's fine. I'll pop some tylenol and be good as new," I said, over the mens irritated voices.

"I'm going, too," Merle said with a harsh, annoyed tone.

"Nah, I'll go," Daryl grumbled, "I know how to get there."

"The three of us will go, then. We can leave tomorrow morning," I said with a fake smile as I stood up from steps, "Carol, where can I set this plate? I think I'm going to go take a nap."

"I'll take it for you," the woman offered.

As I handed her the plate, my hand started shaking and Carol's eyes bounced up to mine. She knew I was scared. Great. I didn't give her time to say anything, though.

"It was nice to meet all of you," I said to the group as I turned to go back up the stairs, only pausing to squeeze Merle's shoulder in a silent 'thank you'.

I headed back to my cell, feeling my blood pressure rising with every step. Once I was on my bed, I let out a shaky breath.

Realistically, I knew I was going to have to go outside at some point and that eventually I would come face to face with that dead, but I was still terrified. Instead of dealing with my fear in a healthy way, I unpaused the wallowing and cried myself into sleep.