Chapter One: The Aftermath
"God said, the people living in darkness have seen a great light; those living on the land of the shadow of death light has dawned," Father Gabriel's voice hung heavily over the church, as everyone listened intently.
Rick sat in the back, head hung, eyes empty; Michonne cradled his head on her chest. Ever since what happened with Negan just a week ago, he'd barely been able to breathe. He'd wake up screaming from some intense nightmare. Sometimes he'd call out her name with mixtures of 'no' and 'don't leave me' and 'I'm sorry, Glenn.' Besides Morgan, he was the first person that Rick woke up to in this new and horrible world, and he'd thought that he'd changed from the person who would never kill another living soul to this person that he was now, but he was wrong. He felt so helpless. He'd allowed them to die. He'd allowed him to die.
"It's not your fault," Michonne made sure to tell him this every day. "What happened...it wasn't."
After the funeral processions, Michonne took Rick home and laid him down in bed. He crumpled over in it, diminishing into a ball of sobs and pain. She'd never seen him so broken, and each day that he was like this just made her hatred for this Negan guy grow. To do this to the man that she loved, was something that she couldn't bare to watch for much longer before she killed him with her own two hands, and maybe her katana.
"Rick," she said softly, stroking his now sweaty curls. "I...I know how it feels to lose everything. I did, once."
He looked up at her, his crystal clear cerulean eyes met her dark brown ones. He didn't say anything, but for the first time in nearly a week, they weren't pain laced, but curious.
"What happened to you?" his voice was scratchy from his constant sobs and cries, but the gentlest she'd ever heard it. He laid his head in her lap, as she stroked his hair more again. This had become his favorite position, her warmth enveloping him.
"I lost my little boy," she said simply. "He was three, and he was my favorite thing in the world."
Rick began to speak but Michonne stopped him. She wanted to tell him this, he needed to hear this.
"After, I changed," she admitted. "My boyfriend Mike and his best friend had gotten high and left my baby alone. I...was so gone. I just, I made them walk around with me on chains, their arms and jaws cut off."
Rick looked right up at her, but she didn't see judgement in her eyes, but deep understanding. He reached up to tenderly stroke her face, afterwards he touched a loose dread that fell in his face, almost giggling at the feeling. It wasn't a proper thing to do after such a dark thing, but her telling him that, it made him feel something. She'd always make him feel something. Like there would always be more than this darkness. She was the light.
"And everything went dark," she said. "I felt like there was nothing to live for, until I met Andrea. And I never allowed myself to love again until I met you, and Carl."
Rick settled deeper into her embrace. Her strong arms around her, knowing something about who she was before was everything. She was such a mystery to him, this bubbling enigma filled with secrets. He found himself smiling at the thought of her and a little boy. He wanted to know everything about him, and less about the now.
"What was his name?" Rick asked curiously.
"Andre," Michonne said with a confident smile. "Andre Anthony."
:
"I don't know why dad is acting like such a pussy about this shit," Carl sighed as he sat at the dinner table. "I mean, the way that he just folded to them. Nobody else should die and he doesn't care!"
Just as Carl vented to Michonne about how unstable his father was, Rick came trudging down the stairs. There was a bit of pep in his step thanks to Michonne giving him a bubble bath and kissing away some of the pain, but his pain came right back, and his shame at not being able to be good enough for his son. He felt like such a failure to him that he could barely look him in the eye anymore. These days, Carl had stopped wearing his hat, and began sporting an eyepatch over his eye. His hair was slicked back and spikey, Rick hoped this was all just some teenage rebellion phase.
"I'm sorry, Carl," Rick told him. "I'm sorry every day."
"Well, sorry isn't good enough," Carl said. "You're nothing and I'm gonna avenge him. Somebody has to."
With that, he stormed off, leaving the two of them stunned. Michonne averted her eyes to Rick, who was wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. Michonne sighed and took him up to the bedroom again, and laid him down. Once he was relaxed, she knew that it was time to talk business. And Carl. And everything, because they couldn't go on like this forever.
"We need to watch Carl," Michonne told Rick. "This isn't some teenage angst period."
"I dunno what to do about him," Rick sighed, helpless.
"I think that we have to start planning on striking Negan back," Michonne said. The fire in her voice apparent. "We'll give him something to fear."
