CHAPTER 12: RICK'S ARRIVAL - PART 2
POV: Rick Grimes
Morning brings a camp meeting where Rick outlines his thoughts on security improvements. Most of his suggestions are basic survival tactics—better watch rotation, improved escape routes, weapons maintenance protocols.
But as he speaks, Rick notices Dale nodding approvingly and Shane's increasingly sharp looks. It takes him a moment to realize why: many of his suggestions mirror improvements someone else has already implemented.
"Who set up the perimeter noise traps?" Rick asks.
"Scott's idea," Glenn volunteers. "EMT emergency planning, he said."
Rick glances at the young medic, noting how Scott stays quiet, letting Rick lead without competition. Smart. Either genuinely humble or tactically clever.
"Good thinking," Rick acknowledges. "We should expand the system."
After the meeting, Rick pulls Scott aside for a private conversation by the quarry's edge. He needs to understand this man who fits so seamlessly into their survival structure.
POV: Scott
"Walk with me," Rick says, and Scott recognizes the tone. Authority wrapped in invitation. Cop voice.
They follow the water's edge, far enough from camp for privacy. Rick moves with the careful awareness of a man who's seen too much violence recently, eyes constantly scanning for threats.
"Shane mentioned you have tactical instincts," Rick begins. "Better than expected for medical training."
Scott's prepared for this. "Emergency scenarios require a lot of strategic thinking. Scene safety, resource allocation, evacuation planning. Similar principles apply here."
"Uh-huh." Rick's tone is neutral, but his eyes are evaluating. "Army reserves? National Guard?"
"Some weekend warrior stuff. Nothing serious."
Rick nods, but Scott can tell he doesn't entirely buy the explanation. The sheriff is putting together pieces of a puzzle, trying to understand how an EMT acquired military-level tactical knowledge.
"You've been good for this group," Rick says finally. "People trust you. That matters more than training sometimes."
POV: Andrea
Andrea approaches Scott at the quarry's edge where he's practicing with a hunting rifle. The way he moves is efficient, economical—no wasted motion. Each shot finds its mark with mechanical precision.
"Mind some company?" she asks.
Scott looks up, lowering the rifle. "Always. Though I should warn you, I'm not much of a teacher."
"I don't believe that." Andrea settles beside him on the rocks. "Shane gave me basic instruction, but I could use more."
What she doesn't say: she wants to understand the man who seems to see three moves ahead of everyone else. The man who saved her sister during the attack, who teaches with infinite patience, who watches the world like he's reading a book he's memorized.
"Shooting's ten percent technique, ninety percent mindset," Scott says, handing her the rifle. "The physical mechanics are simple. It's the mental game that matters."
POV: Amy
Amy watches her sister work with Scott from across the camp, noting the careful distance Andrea maintains even while learning. Ever since the attack, Andrea's been different—harder, more focused. Determined never to feel helpless again.
Scott seems to understand that without being told. He doesn't talk down to Andrea or treat her like she's fragile. Just shows her how to improve, offers quiet encouragement, lets her find her own confidence.
Amy likes that about him. Too many men try to protect women by making them weaker. Scott makes Andrea stronger.
POV: Scott
"Breathe out slowly," Scott instructs as Andrea lines up her shot. "Squeeze the trigger like you're trying not to wake a baby."
The rifle cracks, and the can fifty yards away spins off the log. Andrea's third hit out of five shots—significant improvement over yesterday's session.
"Better," Scott says. "You're not fighting the weapon anymore."
Andrea lowers the rifle, a small smile playing at her lips. "I was terrified during the attack. When those things came through the trees, all I could think was how useless I was. How I couldn't protect Amy."
"You protected her by getting her to safety. That's not useless."
"Shane says women should focus on support roles. Leave the fighting to the men."
Scott's jaw tightens. "Shane's an idiot. You've got steady hands, good reflexes, and the determination to improve. Gender's got nothing to do with competence."
The vehemence in his voice surprises them both. Andrea studies his face, noting the anger that flashes there before being carefully controlled.
"You really believe that," she says. It's not a question.
"I've worked with plenty of female EMTs and firefighters. Some of the best crisis responders I knew were women. Courage isn't about testosterone—it's about doing what needs to be done when you're scared."
POV: Shane Walsh
Shane watches the shooting lesson from behind the RV, his jaw working steadily on a piece of gum that lost its flavor an hour ago. Scott's got Andrea laughing now, relaxed and confident in a way Shane's never managed to achieve.
It galls him. Shane's the cop, the one with weapons training, but somehow the EMT connects with people in ways Shane can't. Makes them trust him, rely on him, look to him for guidance.
Just like Rick does.
Shane spits out the gum and stalks away before he does something he'll regret.
POV: Andrea
As sunset paints the quarry orange and gold, Andrea finally hits three targets in a row. The satisfaction is immediate and addictive—power made manifest, competence proven.
She laughs, impulsive and genuine, and hugs Scott in celebration. The contact is brief but electric, and when she pulls back, something has shifted between them.
"Thank you," she says quietly. "For not treating me like I'm made of glass."
"You're stronger than you know," Scott replies, and the sincerity in his voice makes her chest tight.
They sit by the water as the sun disappears behind the trees, comfortable in shared silence. Finally, Andrea speaks:
"You're different from the others. Quieter. Like you're always thinking three moves ahead."
Scott's pulse jumps. Too perceptive, this woman. Too dangerous to his carefully maintained cover.
"Survival makes you paranoid," he deflects.
"Or maybe you've seen more than you're saying."
It's not accusatory, just observant. Andrea watches him with intelligent eyes, and Scott realizes she's someone who sees through facades. The thought is terrifying and thrilling in equal measure.
POV: Dale Horvath
Dale watches the interaction between Scott and Andrea from the RV's door, noting the careful way they orbit each other. Attraction and caution mixed together, two people drawn together but holding back.
Good for them both, Dale thinks. Andrea needs someone who challenges her, and Scott needs someone who grounds him. The young man carries himself like someone bearing invisible weight—the burden of knowledge or responsibility that ages a person beyond their years.
Dale's lived long enough to recognize a man with secrets. The question is whether those secrets will help or harm the group when they inevitably come to light.
POV: Lori Grimes
Lori folds laundry while watching Rick integrate himself back into their lives. He's trying so hard to be normal, to slip back into the role of husband and father as if three months of apocalypse never happened.
But she can see the changes in him—the way his eyes never stop scanning for threats, how his hand drifts to his weapon when unexpected sounds reach the camp. The man who came back to her is harder than the one who left.
And she's changed too. The guilt of her relationship with Shane sits heavy in her chest, unspoken but present in every interaction.
"Mom?" Carl appears at her elbow, young face troubled. "Are you and Dad gonna be okay?"
Lori's heart clenches. "Of course, honey. Why would you ask that?"
"You seem... different. Both of you."
Out of the mouths of babes. Lori pulls Carl close, breathing in the smell of his hair.
"We're adjusting, that's all. It takes time for families to find their rhythm again."
Carl nods, apparently satisfied. But Lori knows it's more complicated than that. They're not the same people they were before. None of them are.
POV: Scott
Walking back to camp with Andrea, Scott feels the weight of developing emotions he hadn't planned for. This isn't the character from the show—this is a real woman, complex and intelligent and determined. Someone worth caring about.
His System offers no guidance on matters of the heart, just cold notation:
[ANDREA: COMPATIBLE PERSONALITY MATRIX]
[HIGH EMOTIONAL INVESTMENT RISK]
Risk. The story of his new life.
"Whatever happens," Andrea says quietly as they reach the camp's edge, "we look out for each other. Deal?"
"Deal," Scott agrees, knowing he's just made a promise he might not be able to keep.
Behind them, Shane emerges from the shadows where he's been watching. His expression is unreadable in the dying light, but something dangerous flickers in his eyes.
The camp settles into evening routines, but the undercurrents of tension remain. Rick's arrival has changed everything, and everyone's still figuring out where they fit in the new hierarchy.
Scott lies in his tent listening to the sounds of families trying to rebuild themselves—Rick and Lori's whispered conversations, Carl's quiet breathing, Shane's restless movement in his sleeping area.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new complications. But tonight, for the first time since arriving at the camp, Scott allows himself to feel something other than the weight of foreknowledge.
Hope, maybe. Or at least the possibility that some things might work out better than he remembered.
Outside, a walker moans in the distance, and the quarry water laps gently against the shore.
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