CHAPTER 15: THE INTERROGATION
POV: Scott
Sleep doesn't come. Scott lies in his tent staring at the fabric ceiling, replaying every moment from Atlanta, every display of unnatural strength and speed. The pipe he shattered with supernatural force. The way he moved through walkers like some kind of video game character.
"Rick saw it all. Shane too. They know something's off."
His System provides no comfort, just cold analysis:
[DIPLOMATIC CRISIS - NO TACTICAL SOLUTION AVAILABLE]
[COVER STORY INTEGRITY: 43%]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: DAMAGE CONTROL]
Dawn breaks with the sound of footsteps outside his tent. Low voices, deliberate approach. Scott's enhanced hearing picks up Rick's whispered words: "Just keep it calm. We need answers, not confrontation."
"We need to talk."
Rick's voice cuts through the morning air like a blade. Scott emerges to find both men waiting, their expressions serious but not openly hostile. Yet.
Shane's hand rests casually near his sidearm—not threatening, but ready. Rick's eyes are sharp with the focused intensity Scott recognizes from his EMT days. Cop eyes. Interrogation mode.
"Sure," Scott says, keeping his voice level. "What about?"
POV: Rick Grimes
Rick studies Scott's face for micro-expressions, tells that might reveal deception. The young man seems genuinely calm, but there's tension in his shoulders that suggests preparation for conflict.
"Let's walk," Rick suggests. "Away from camp."
They move toward the quarry's edge in silence, morning mist rising from the water like ghosts. Rick's seen enough interrogations to know the importance of environment—neutral ground, no witnesses, room for honest conversation.
"That pipe you broke yesterday," Rick begins without preamble. "Solid steel, three-inch diameter. I've seen construction workers struggle with equipment like that."
Scott's expression doesn't change. "Adrenaline's a hell of a drug."
"Is it?" Shane cuts in, his tone sharp. "Because what I saw looked like something else entirely."
POV: Shane Walsh
Shane feels the familiar burn of frustration as Scott maintains his innocent act. Three months Shane's kept this camp alive, made the hard decisions, protected these people. Now some EMT with convenient answers shows up and everyone acts like he's the second coming.
"The way you fought through those walkers," Shane presses. "Movement, timing, awareness—that wasn't normal training. You called out dangers before we could see them, knew exactly where to position for cover. Military?"
"Emergency medical training includes tactical awareness," Scott replies. "Scene safety, threat assessment, extraction under hostile conditions."
Shane's jaw clenches. The answer's too smooth, too prepared. Like Scott's been rehearsing this conversation.
POV: Scott
"Stick to the cover story. Mix truth with misdirection. Don't give them anything they can verify."
"I trained in mixed martial arts before the outbreak," Scott explains, weaving truth through necessary lies. "Five years, serious dedication. You develop combat reflexes, enhanced awareness. And EMT work—responding to violent calls, gang territories, domestic violence situations—it changes how you read danger."
Rick nods slowly. "That explains some of it."
"The apocalypse changes people," Scott continues, injecting genuine emotion into his voice. "Some break, some adapt. I adapted. Found an edge I can't fully explain—maybe hypervigilance, maybe survival instinct. But I use it to keep people alive."
POV: Rick Grimes
There's something in Scott's tone—raw honesty mixed with carefully controlled information. Rick's heard enough half-truths to recognize the pattern, but he's also seen enough genuine trauma to understand why someone might hold back painful details.
"Shane mentioned you have uncanny timing with supply discoveries," Rick probes. "Almost supernatural luck."
Scott's laugh sounds forced. "Pattern recognition. Emergency responders learn to think like victims—where they'd hide valuables, stash supplies, barricade themselves. Plus paranoia. I check every hiding spot because I assume someone else thought of it first."
"And the strength?" Shane demands. "That pipe—"
"Fear," Scott interrupts. "Merle was going to die. Sometimes you find reserves you didn't know you had."
POV: Shane Walsh
Before Shane can push harder, footsteps crunch through the underbrush behind them. Shane spins, hand moving to his weapon, then relaxes as Daryl emerges from the tree line.
"Son of a bitch was following us."
"Y'all having a nice chat?" Daryl asks, crossbow slung casually but ready. His tone is deceptively mild, but Shane recognizes the protective stance. Daryl's placing himself between Scott and authority.
"Just asking some questions," Rick says carefully.
"About what?"
POV: Daryl Dixon
Daryl studies the body language—Rick tense but reasonable, Shane coiled like a spring about to break, Scott calm but alert. An interrogation, not a conversation.
"Y'all questioning the man who saved my brother's life?" Daryl's voice carries an edge of warning. "Scott's solid. Don't matter if he's stronger than he looks or lucky or whatever. He's got our backs."
"Daryl—" Shane starts.
"Nah." Daryl cuts him off with finality. "I seen enough to know Scott ain't the problem here. Merle was gonna die on that roof, and Scott made sure he didn't. That's all I need to know about character."
POV: Rick Grimes
Rick weighs the moment—Daryl's loyalty, Scott's explanations, Shane's obvious hostility. The tracker's judgment carries weight; Daryl doesn't trust easily, but when he does, it's absolute.
"Fair enough," Rick decides. "But Scott, if there's more to your story, I hope you'll trust us with it eventually."
Scott nods, and Rick sees genuine gratitude in his expression. "I appreciate that. And I appreciate you protecting Merle despite... everything."
"We don't abandon people," Rick states simply. It's both principle and warning.
Shane's expression suggests disagreement, but he holds his tongue. For now.
POV: Scott
Later, Scott sits alone by the water's edge, processing the close call. His hands shake slightly—delayed stress response from walking the tightrope between truth and deception.
"Too many near misses. Rick's suspicious but willing to trust. Shane's actively hostile. And I'm one mistake away from everything unraveling."
Footsteps approach across the gravel. Scott looks up to see Andrea, her expression concerned but not judgmental.
"Rough morning?" she asks, settling beside him.
Scott manages a weak smile. "You could say that."
POV: Andrea
Andrea studies Scott's profile, noting the exhaustion he's trying to hide. Whatever Rick and Shane questioned him about has left him shaken.
"I don't care what they think," she says quietly. "You saved Merle when you could have let him be abandoned. That tells me who you are."
Scott's throat works as if swallowing difficult words. "What if you don't know the whole story?"
"Do any of us?" Andrea counters. "We all have secrets now, things we've done to survive. Whatever yours is, I trust you."
POV: Scott
The simple faith in Andrea's voice hits Scott harder than any interrogation. She doesn't know about the System, the transmigration, the knowledge that makes him fundamentally different from everyone else. But she trusts him anyway.
"Andrea..." Scott begins, then stops. What can he say? That he's from another world? That he knows she's supposed to die in a few years? That every choice he makes is based on foreknowledge of a TV show?
"It's okay," Andrea says, taking his hand. "You don't have to explain everything. Just... don't shut me out completely."
Her fingers intertwine with his, warm and real and grounding. For a moment, Scott allows himself to forget about Systems and quests and changing canon events. There's just a woman who cares about him, and the terrifying possibility of genuine happiness.
POV: Dale Horvath
Dale watches the interaction from the RV's steps, his heart aching for two people trying to find connection in an impossible world. He's observed enough to know Scott carries secrets that burden him, but also enough to see the young man's essential decency.
"We all become someone different in crisis. The question is whether we become better or worse."
In Scott's case, Dale suspects better. The man could have let Merle die—probably should have, given Merle's nature—but chose salvation over convenience. That speaks to character that transcends whatever mysteries he might be hiding.
POV: Shane Walsh
Shane observes the touching scene between Andrea and Scott from behind the RV, his jaw working steadily on tasteless gum. Another relationship forming around Scott, another person choosing the EMT over established authority.
"Rick defends him. Daryl protects him. Now Andrea's falling for him. Meanwhile, I'm the one who kept everyone alive for three months, and I'm treated like the problem."
The bitterness tastes like copper in his mouth. Shane spits out the gum and stalks away before he says something that can't be taken back.
POV: Carol Peletier
Carol hangs laundry and watches the camp's emotional dynamics play out with the eye of someone who survived years of reading subtle cues. Shane's anger is familiar—the rage of a man who believes the world owes him something it's not delivering.
She's seen that expression before. Ed wore it sometimes, right before the worst violence.
"Shane's breaking down. The question is whether he'll hurt himself or others when he finally snaps."
Carol glances at Sophia playing nearby and makes a mental note to keep her daughter away from Shane when possible. She won't be trapped by another man's rage, not anymore.
POV: Scott
That evening, the camp settles into routines with artificial normalcy. Dinner conversation, children's laughter, the comfort of shared tasks. But Scott feels the undercurrents—Shane's isolation, Rick's careful observation, the weight of secrets pressing down like atmospheric pressure.
[RICK GRIMES: TENTATIVE TRUST - 50/100]
[SHANE WALSH: HOSTILE DISTRUST - 5/100]
[WARNING: POTENTIAL ANTAGONIST DETECTED]
[DARYL DIXON: UNSHAKABLE LOYALTY - 95/100]
[ANDREA: DEEPENING BOND - 70/100]
His System quantifies the relationships, but numbers can't capture the complexity of human emotion. Andrea's faith feels undeserved. Rick's willingness to trust despite suspicion speaks to the man's essential decency. And Daryl's loyalty—unexpected, absolute, potentially dangerous—anchors Scott in ways the tracker probably doesn't understand.
Merle approaches as Scott cleans his crowbar, the older Dixon moving with unusual restraint.
"Heard you caught some heat about yesterday," Merle says quietly.
Scott looks up, surprised by the subdued tone. "Some questions. Nothing I couldn't handle."
Merle nods slowly. "For what it's worth, you could've let me die. Would've been easier. Most people would've chosen easier."
It's not gratitude exactly—Merle's too proud for that—but acknowledgment. Recognition of debt between men who understand the weight of hard choices.
"Everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better," Scott replies.
Merle's laugh is harsh but not mocking. "You believe that? Really?"
"I have to."
The simple answer seems to surprise Merle. He studies Scott for a long moment, then nods and walks away without another word.
POV: Lori Grimes
Lori watches her husband move through evening routines with forced normalcy, noting the tension he's trying to hide. Rick's always been transparent to her—every mood, every worry written in the set of his shoulders and the line of his jaw.
Tonight he's processing something complex. Probably the situation with Scott, judging by the morning's private conversations and camp whispers.
"Everything alright?" she asks when Rick settles beside their fire.
"Just trying to figure people out," Rick admits. "Make sure we're making good decisions."
Lori follows his gaze to where Scott and Andrea sit talking quietly by the water. "You don't trust him?"
"I want to," Rick says carefully. "But there's more to his story than he's sharing."
"Isn't there always? These days?"
Rick nods, but his expression remains troubled. Leadership means making judgment calls with incomplete information, and Scott represents too many variables for comfort.
As full darkness settles over the quarry, Scott lies in his tent listening to the camp's nighttime sounds. Whispered conversations, quiet movement, the eternal backdrop of distant walker moans. His System displays relationship statistics and probability matrices, but they feel meaningless against the weight of genuine human connection.
"I saved Merle and earned Daryl's loyalty. Gained Rick's grudging respect despite his suspicions. Made an enemy of Shane. And somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, found something real with Andrea."
The thought terrifies him more than any walker horde. Because caring means vulnerability, and vulnerability means the possibility of loss he's not sure he could survive twice.
Outside, a walker moans in the forest, and someone on watch shifts position with quiet professionalism. The quarry water laps gently against the shore, and for a moment, Scott allows himself to imagine this might actually work—building a life, protecting people he cares about, becoming someone worthy of the trust they're placing in him.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new threats to navigate. But tonight, wrapped in the fragile peace of human community, Scott Alen falls asleep holding onto hope.
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