CHAPTER 16: THE FISH FRY
POV: Dale Horvath
"We need this," Dale announces to the camp meeting, his weathered hands gesturing toward the impressive catch Daryl and Morales brought back from the quarry. "Not just the food—the reminder that we're still human."
Scott watches from across the circle as Dale makes his case for what he's calling a "family dinner." The old man's enthusiasm is infectious, and soon people are volunteering for various tasks with something approaching excitement.
"A fish fry. In canon, this was just before Amy got bitten. But with the camp's improved defenses and my knowledge of timing... maybe this time it can just be what Dale wants—a moment of peace."
POV: Carol Peletier
Carol finds herself genuinely smiling as she organizes the cooking station. For the first time since Ed's death, she's looking forward to something instead of just surviving from moment to moment.
"I'll help," Scott offers, approaching with obvious good intentions.
Carol nods, grateful for the assistance. Cooking for twenty people requires multiple hands, and Scott's been nothing but kind to her since arriving at camp.
That kindness lasts exactly seven minutes.
POV: Amy
Amy doubles over laughing as Scott somehow manages to burn three fish fillets simultaneously while over-salting a fourth and setting a pot holder on fire.
"How is that even possible?" Amy gasps between giggles. "You can save lives but can't cook fish?"
Scott stares at the smoking disaster with genuine bewilderment. "I'm... not sure what went wrong."
Carol rescues the pot holder before it can spread, her own laughter surprising her with its genuineness. "Maybe you should stick to medicine," she suggests gently, shooing him away from the cooking area.
POV: Glenn Rhee
Glenn grins as he watches Scott's culinary catastrophe unfold. "That's it," he declares loudly enough for the whole camp to hear. "Scott's officially banned from food preparation. Man's got a higher kill count with cooking than with walkers."
The joke spreads quickly, and soon even the kids are giggling about Scott's "culinary kill count." It's harmless teasing, but Glenn notices how Scott plays into it, exaggerating his helplessness in a way that feels almost deliberate.
"Smart. After yesterday's display of superhuman strength, a little strategic incompetence makes him seem more human."
POV: Scott
The laughter feels genuine and warm, exactly what Scott was hoping for. After Atlanta's revelations, he needs to seem more human, more fallible. Burning dinner accomplishes that while bringing joy to people who have little enough of it.
"I'll just... sit here," Scott says with exaggerated defeat. "Maybe tell people about first aid while the real cooks handle the food."
Carl appears at his elbow, comic book in hand. "Scott! Look what Dad found!"
The boy's excitement is infectious. Scott examines the comic—X-Men, surprisingly well-preserved—and soon they're deep in discussion about superheroes and whether Wolverine could survive walker bites.
POV: Carl Grimes
"Do you think there are real superheroes?" Carl asks seriously as they flip through the comic. "People with powers who could fix all this?"
Scott considers the question carefully. "I think there are people who do heroic things every day. Your dad, saving people even when it's dangerous. Your mom, keeping families together. Dale, making sure we remember what's important."
"That's not the same," Carl protests. "I mean like, real powers. Super strength, seeing the future, stuff like that."
"If only you knew, kid."
"Maybe," Scott says quietly. "But even if someone had powers like that, they'd still need help from regular people. Heroes work best as part of a team."
Carl nods thoughtfully, apparently satisfied with that answer.
POV: Dale Horvath
Dale observes Scott's interaction with Carl from across the camp, noting the patient way the young man engages with the boy's questions. There's something almost wistful in Scott's expression when Carl asks about people with powers—like he's speaking from experience about burden and responsibility.
"What kind of weight is this young man carrying?"
Scott catches Dale watching and approaches with careful casual steps.
"Thank you," Scott says quietly. "For this. For insisting we remember we're human."
"We need reminders," Dale replies. "Especially when the world tries to turn us into something else."
There's understanding in the exchange that goes beyond words. Two men who've seen too much, trying to preserve something essential in themselves and others.
POV: Lori Grimes
Lori approaches Scott during a quiet moment between conversations, her expression carefully neutral but determined.
"I wanted to thank you," she says awkwardly. "For protecting Carl during the attack. For... for bringing Rick back safely from Atlanta."
Scott nods, sensing the guilt beneath her words. "Just doing what anyone would do."
"No," Lori insists. "Not everyone would. You risked yourself for my family, and I... I'm grateful."
The admission costs her something. Scott can see the weight of whatever choices she's made during Rick's absence, the guilt that sits heavy on her shoulders.
"Your family's worth protecting," Scott says simply. "Rick's a good man. Carl's a good kid. And you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."
Lori's eyes shine with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispers, and hurries away before emotion can overwhelm her.
POV: Shane Walsh
Shane watches the interactions from his position on the camp's periphery, noting how easily Scott moves between conversations, how people gravitate toward him like he's some kind of magnetic center.
"Three months I kept these people alive. Three months of hard decisions and sacrifice. And they're all falling over themselves to trust some EMT with convenient answers and impossible luck."
The bitterness burns in Shane's chest as he watches Rick laugh at something Scott says, watches Lori approach to thank the man who's somehow replaced Shane in everyone's affections.
Even Carl prefers Scott now. His surrogate son, the boy Shane protected and cared for, choosing the newcomer over the man who kept him safe.
POV: Andrea
As the sun sets and people gather around the fire for storytelling, Andrea settles naturally beside Scott. Their shoulders touch—casual contact that sends warmth through her entire body.
"Your turn," Glenn announces when Dale finishes a story about his late wife. "Scott, tell us something we don't know."
Scott considers for a moment, then begins speaking about his "grandmother"—though Andrea suspects the story has been edited for their audience.
"She used to tell me that every day above ground was a gift," Scott says, his voice carrying genuine emotion. "That the moment you stop being grateful for being alive, you stop really living. She'd say, 'Scott, honey, you can't control what happens to you, but you can control how you respond to it.'"
The story resonates in the firelight, faces reflecting thoughtful consideration. Andrea finds herself studying Scott's profile, noting the way shadows play across his features.
"There's pain there. Loss he's not talking about. But also hope—genuine hope for tomorrow."
POV: Scott
As the stories wind down and people begin drifting toward their tents, Andrea lingers beside the dying fire. The moment feels suspended, charged with possibility and fear in equal measure.
"Walk with me?" Andrea asks quietly.
They move toward the quarry's edge in comfortable silence, moonlight painting the water silver. When they reach the shore, Andrea stops and turns to face him.
"I'm scared," she admits quietly.
"Of walkers?"
"Of this." She gestures between them. "Of caring about someone when everything else keeps getting taken away."
Scott's heart clenches. In his foreknowledge, Andrea survives longer than most, but that doesn't guarantee anything. Every day is a roll of dice in this world, and attachment means vulnerability to loss that could break him.
"I understand," Scott says honestly. "But maybe that's exactly why we need to care. Because if we stop connecting with people, stop taking those risks... we're already dead."
Andrea studies his face in the moonlight, seeing something there that makes her decision. She steps closer and kisses his cheek—soft, quick, but unmistakably deliberate.
"I'll do everything I can to keep you and Amy safe," Scott promises, the words torn from some deep place in his chest.
Andrea's smile is small but genuine. "I know you will. Just... keep yourself safe too. For me."
POV: Merle Dixon
Merle watches the romantic display from his position near the fire, tobacco juice dark on his lips. The EMT's got himself a woman now, settling deeper into the camp's social structure.
"Boy saved my life yesterday. Earned Daryl's loyalty. Got Rick's respect and Andrea's affection. Not bad for a city boy with secrets."
Because Merle's no fool. Scott's hiding something significant—his strength, his awareness, his uncanny luck with supplies. But whatever the secret is, it's being used to help people instead of exploit them.
That matters more than Merle's usual suspicion of outsiders.
POV: T-Dog
T-Dog tends the fire as people drift away to their tents, noting the improved mood throughout camp. People are laughing, relaxing, acting like they might actually have a future worth planning for.
Scott's been part of that change. The man brings a quiet confidence that spreads to others, makes them believe survival is possible without abandoning their humanity.
"Good thing Rick found him. We need people who remember what we're fighting to preserve."
POV: Daryl Dixon
Daryl cleans his crossbow and observes the camp settling into night routines. Scott's helping Carol bank the fires while Andrea gathers dishes, domestic normalcy that feels almost surreal after yesterday's violence.
"EMT's got good instincts about people. Knows when to push, when to back off, when to just be present. That's rare."
Daryl's spent enough time around predators—human and otherwise—to recognize the difference between someone who protects and someone who exploits. Scott's definitely the former, whatever secrets he might be carrying.
POV: Rick Grimes
Rick makes his final patrol of the night, checking perimeter security and noting the peaceful atmosphere. For the first time since arriving at the quarry, the camp feels genuinely safe—not just defended, but content.
Scott's influence, partly. The man has a gift for bringing out the best in people while managing their worst impulses. Even Merle's been subdued since the Atlanta incident, and Shane's hostility hasn't escalated despite obvious provocation.
"Leadership isn't just about making decisions. Sometimes it's about knowing when to step back and let good things happen naturally."
POV: Scott
Scott lies in his tent that night, Andrea's kiss still warm on his skin, and stares at his System's peaceful displays.
[CAMP MORALE: 75%]
[RELATIONSHIP IMPROVEMENTS: ACROSS THE BOARD]
[ANDREA: ROMANTIC INTEREST - 80/100]
[QUEST AVAILABLE: PRESERVE THE PEACE]
For one evening, they weren't survivors clawing for another day. They were a family, sharing food and stories and hope for tomorrow. The laughter had been genuine, the connections real.
But his minimap shows walker signatures in the distance, always present, always threatening. And Shane's tent radiates the red glow of psychological instability, a problem Scott still doesn't know how to solve.
"We had peace tonight. Real peace. But how long can it last in a world that wants to tear us apart?"
Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new threats to navigate. But tonight, for a few stolen hours, they remembered what they were fighting to preserve. Scott falls asleep to the sound of Andrea's quiet breathing from the next tent and the gentle lapping of quarry water against the shore.
In the darkness, a walker moans somewhere in the forest, but the camp's defenses hold strong. For now, they're safe. For now, they have each other.
And sometimes, Scott reflects as sleep claims him, that's enough.
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