Author's Note: Hey guys! I've been recovering from an injury the past few weeks, but I've looked through my FF folder for a couple of old one-shots I've never posted and found this one. Since it was written between season 7 and 8, I guess this makes it both AU and ZA. I was annoyed by both the lack of real character focus on Michonne and acknowledgement between Michonne and Negan. This fic is "action" oriented with Richonne mixed in. M rating is for sexual and violent content.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Heroine
A whistle plays on her lips as she walks down the center of the street. To her left a walker appears, stumbling and haggard with mucus and slobber dribbling down its chin. On her right is a shaking chain link fence. About a dozen odd walkers clutch the zig-zag wiring as they fiend for the slightest taste of flesh.
When the drooler on the left gets too close, it takes but a quick and powerful swipe of her sword to split him in two. His top half spins mid-air. The bottom half falls to the ground in a heap. Blood and guts spill into a thickening pool. She's unfazed. She rids her sword of dangling gore with a shake and then keeps walking.
In front of her, the street is a dead end. A long-abandoned brick building waits for her accompanied by a diamond-shaped sign reading 'END'. Behind her, over the droning whines of the undead, truck engines rumble ever closer. The way she sees it, listening to what sounds like two trucks—three tops—there's nowhere else for them to go. It's time their chase comes to an end.
She's out of sight by the time tires screech and doors fly open. Their boots hit asphalt and this band of men survey the scene with slow, suspicious eyes. But one makes himself known, stepping out his big black truck with a toothy grin and a barbed wire bat against his chest.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are."
She listens to the taunt, waits…
"We know you're around here. We're everywhere. We'll find you…eventually…"
He looks about the brick buildings, grin still alive, and licks his lips. He knows their chase has not been in vain. It's only a matter of time before she gives in. No one has escaped his wrath. No one ever will.
But his men are sloppy with their kills. A few walkers stumble their way and his guys stab them without grace, rather with movements lacking expertise and precision. He ignores this. His best men are protecting the Sanctuary against Rick the dick so shit is what it is. For now, he's stuck with the B team. Still, that shouldn't matter as he doesn't believe what he's heard about her from others. His gang is enough against one chick with a sword.
Lucille is obedient at his side as he considers the terrain. The buildings within sight are mostly boarded up, empty alleys between every few. He expects she's gone inside one of them by now. She's probably tucked away in some room of one these shitty ass little shoeboxes. His ears perk up when he hears distant, quick footsteps.
Then he laughs. He leans backward with it, as if his laugh is too heavy to handle, and he turns to glance at his guys. They get him. They know his twisted sense of humor.
The four move forward with their eyes pressed into the scopes of their M-4's. They head toward where the noise comes from, the dingy and dilapidated brick building at the end of the street. The place looks like some low-income apartments from before, with sheets hanging halfway out the windows and children's bikes abandoned on the yellow grass.
"She's playing games, fellas," Negan calls out to them. He waits safely by the truck, shouldered by Skinny Joey and Jared. If shit goes awry, he's the first out. Still, he doesn't want his guys to turn into little pansy ass punks so he keeps the encouragement coming. "She'll turn up. She couldn't have gotten fa—"
One of his guys approaching the brick is struck dead with a bullet to the neck. His legs are strings, limp as he flops to the ground.
Negan only has half a second to react as his eyes go wide and his grin slides off his mouth. In that next half second, another bullet flies from the brick and he's the target. That bullet has his name on it as it grazes him and slices through his leather-clad arm enough to break skin. His growl is a feral explosion of offended rage and he vows to end this disrespectful shit right now.
"FUCK!" he shouts. "Fucking shoot her! And get me the fuck outta here—NOW!"
Bullets flying drown him out. Everything's become a blur now that the B-team springs into action with their rifles. They spray bullets against every inch of the apartment building, aiming especially for the windows.
She's inside but she's fast and she's clever enough to be far away from their rapid fire. She's on the opposite end of the building, hidden behind a cinderblock slab in a hallway. They're going to come for her within seconds and she's itching for them to find her. What they don't know is that even when they think they're one or two steps ahead, she's already five.
Outside, as the stream of bullets die down, Negan's still shouting profanities. Her lips curl into a small smirk as she imagines him shaking with sheer fury. Boots clambering four stories below interrupt her amusement. She gets by a doorway and listens carefully to the remaining three close in.
After they're done with, it's Negan and the two assholes flanking him.
Her rifle's slung over her back as her grip tightens on the hilt of her katana. Adrenaline surges through every vein in her body and sets her heartbeat into a pounding overdrive. They round the staircases one after another, quickly working their way up the floors. They're growing closer, so close she can almost already feel her blade stuck in their skulls.
"The bitch shot somewhere from the fifth or sixth floor!" one grumbles breathlessly.
They continue, racing up another flight and a half until they're sufficiently winded. On the sixth floor, they reach the landing with pants but only a slightly waned determination. The one to lead the pack is familiar. She's seen him on visits to Alexandria. He's one of the assholes who beat Aaron. His breathing is ragged as he approaches the doorway and leads his men to meet their maker.
He's mid-step when she swings her blade into the air. Its metallic gleam is a blur as it pierces his chest and he stumbles backward. The two behind him are there to break his fall not by choice. They're scrambling to keep hold of their rifles and balance as she spins around them with the katana an extension of her arm.
With her boot, she kicks the one on the right on back of his knees then brings her blade down in a clean line into his skull. She goes deeper than anticipated and flubs for a second to free her blade of bone. The third guy, having crashed under the man who beat Aaron, is back on his feet. He has a fleeting moment where he glances down the staircase to grab his fallen rifle lying several steps down.
He thinks better of it as he instead reaches for the hatchet attached to his belt. He gets a swing in before she can shift into stance and she's left jumping backward to narrowly escape his thick blade. He advances with another swipe and some heavy breaths that come out as wheezes. She surprises him with a parry this time. Her katana connects against his hatchet in a resounding chink.
She can see the frustration flash in his eyes as he grits his teeth. Little does he know his frustration energizes her, stoking the flames to a fire that burns inside her and gives her strength.
Their blades finish their collision and she snags the opening to lift her boot and kick him in his left knee. He howls and bends, dropping his weapon. Her arms expand with her katana as it she brings it down for the finishing slice. In a fit of scrappy desperation he reaches for her legs and pulls. They topple over as one onto the ground in a series of grunts.
Hands now freed, it's a struggle between them. She starts out on top but is quickly rolled under as he manages to overpower her with brute strength. Her hands come over his as they close around her neck and she claws and digs into his skin.
In her ears, her pulse echoes while her strangled groans sound curiously far away. Maybe it's a mind trick. Maybe it's a sign she's losing consciousness. Maybe he's getting to her.
But even throughout thoughts about these possibilities, she never stops. She harnesses every ounce of fight she has in her as she struggles against him and his grip only tightens. She watches the earlier frustration morph into something else entirely in his eyes. Some sort of sadistic pleasure slowly draining the life from her.
Rubber loud and shrill screeches against tarmac from outside. Negan and the other two are gone. After giving it five minutes since the gunfire's stopped, he chalks it up to a meaningless manpower loss and goes back to the drawing board. His bullet graze still on his mind, she is all he thinks about as their truck ditches the scene.
The Savior choking her out is short-sighted. His leader abandoning him is enough to distract him, enough for him to glance over his shoulder. Her hands leave his and her nails are waiting for him like claws when his head turns back. She bites down hard on her jaw as she digs into his eyeballs with everything she has. He relents instantly to her gouge and backs up off her. His whimper is like a wounded animal, visceral and vulnerable with his hands over his face. For a millisecond, she wonders if she's permanently blinded him.
It doesn't matter. She springs upright and shoots forth for her discarded katana. Even through his blinding pain, he recognizes this and lunges to stop her. It's another battle, as he grabs her arms and they grapple in back-and-forth steps. He brings his knee up and the hit knocks the wind out of her. She's back on the floor against her wishes with dizzied gasps for air. Only faintly does she realize he's over her, eyes red and swollen shut.
And then she can feel the weight of his steel-toe boot lifting upward, as if he's about to squash an inconsequential bug beneath him. She gasps some more, one arm around her stomach as she turns onto her side and stretches as far as her limbs allow, as far as her fingertips can reach. They touch the hilt and she gets a grip in the same second he brings his boot down.
It's a race against each other as he moves to stomp her out and she rolls out of the way. He lunges again and she thrusts her katana into his chest. For a brief moment, confusion flitters over his grimy, now swollen face and he stands still as a statue. He doesn't register he's been stabbed until seconds later when he drops to his knees and then the ground. His eyes stay open and so does his bloody mouth.
She's breathless and aching, but pushes herself to her feet anyway, katana at her side. She goes to the window and sees only in the distance, Negan's truck barreling back the way it came. Her breath falls into a normal rhythm again and she glances at the dead men littered on that sixth level floor. They're each bathed in their blood and this satisfies her enough to take her exit.
When she's outside, she checks every abandoned car on the block and finds one with an engine that starts on her fourth attempt. She tosses her sniper rifle and sword onto the seat next to her, both her faithful passengers and trusty friends, and slips behind the wheel.
The same whistle playing on her lips, she takes one last look at the chaos behind her before she smirks and drives off.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Rick goes ballistic when he finds out she's missing.
He returns to Alexandria with his group in tow to learn Michonne's gone. Surprise overtakes him and his heart stops, and there's a tight pain gathering in his chest. His blue eyes are unfocused and wild as he whirls around and strides to the gate to lash out at the guard for letting her go.
A thousand possibilities seep into his brain, infecting him to his core as he loses any sense of direction and rationale.
He's in Tobin's face, about to take off in search, when she turns up.
Michonne strolls up to the iron gates like nothing.
While she looks exhausted and slightly scathed, she's unafraid in her approach. She strikes a bar with the butt of her rifle to gain their attention.
His heart starts again but in fast beats one after another. His skin's hot and flush. He's both relieved and livid as he turns and looks at her. The stare she gives him upon entry is defiant, unapologetic as she thanks Tobin for opening the gate, and she starts for the blue home at the end of the block—their home—as if nothing had gone awry.
Rick follows.
Soon as their front door shuts, it's a confrontation.
"What were you doing out there?" he demands loudly. "The plan was for you to guard the Safe Zone—for you to be here and—"
"—you know better than anybody shit doesn't always go according to plan," she interrupts. Her voice is just as loud, just as challenging.
She won't back down and he knows this.
"Yeah? Then what? What happened that made the plan change?" he asks gruffly. He steps closer to her, invading her space with his hands on his waist and his blue eyes boring into hers.
The kids aren't home. They're with Olivia, which affords them free reign to let their frustrations out.
"What were you thinking?" he says before she can answer. Though his inflection is layered with anger, a waver here and there shows itself, revealing the worry behind the temper.
"I was thinking about Alexandria," she says boldly.
He scoffs.
She slides off her scabbard and sets it down on the coffee table. Her posture is as pronounced as ever, confident and self-assured as it's now her turn to step toward him, closing the space between them.
"After your group left, I overheard on Jesus' radio that they were headed this way," she explains. "You were going to one of their outposts. They were coming here. I had to stop them."
"You had to stop them?" he repeats.
"Yes me. And that's exactly what I did." she says. "I was the diversion and I got them to turn back. I bought us time."
For a while, Rick stares at her. He doesn't move or look away. She sees the respect in his eyes, knowing he realizes the difficult decision she's made but his protective disagreement still simmers under the surface. Finally, he nods and turns his back to her.
"You shouldn't've."
His words are hoarsely choked out.
They aren't the touchy-feely type of couple, the kind who constantly processes their love for one another, but whenever danger or death strikes, they grant themselves permission to be vulnerable and express themselves. She didn't realize this is one of those times until she hears the hardened pain in his voice.
"It's what needed to happen," she says to him. "Rick…I had to."
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They're creatures of action. It's how they express themselves.
It comes as no surprise their head on confrontation dissolves into intimacy.
9 times out of 10, their sex is a monsoon brewed over hours of tension. A culmination of time spent apart or a deadly conflict averted, it's usually hard and intense and a moment which leaves them so high and sated they don't come down for minutes after.
Belts clang and denim is shoved aside as they race to free themselves of constriction. Their shudder is shared as he enters her from behind with his fingers digging into her flesh. He doesn't hesitate going deep, turning her limbs to jelly as she caves and falls with her cheek flush against the sheets. Their cool, soft surface is a stark contrast to the heat on her skin and between her pulsing legs, to the hardness plunging into her. She closes her eyes and moans and relishes how full and taut he makes her feel.
Any stressors and dangers from the day wash away with each relentless stroke. He falls over her, caging her in as his lips come to her spine and his thick, throaty grunts fill her ears. His deepest strokes yet make her tingle all over and she clutches for the nearest pillow to bury her face into. He goes as far as her body allows, sometimes brushing against her cervix. Scant pain mixes with her ongoing pleasure to create the most deliciously intense heat rising inside of her.
She doesn't know how much more she can take when his fingers find her clit and he teases. His touch is a light strum and juxtaposes his length driving into her. Then he slowly begins to rub, as if he deems she's earned her release at last. It's torture but she loves it, moaning and suffocating his cock in a tight clench.
Her orgasm is a volcano eruption as everything comes to a head and she bursts hot and untamed like fiery molten lava. Her skin is sheened with sweat and she's shaking, coating him in her pearly essence. She freezes under him, but he continues to rub her and rock into her, never satisfied until she's absolutely tapped out.
Rick's lips kiss her neck and graze her ear and his erratic breaths slowly stir her back to reality. In that second, she faintly registers his overwhelming worry and uncertainty over her whereabouts. How he's claiming her and how she's still his. He lets her know this with every stroke and strum. She does the same as she grips and flutters around him. They belong to each other and no one else.
He gives a final jerk and then they discover they overestimated themselves as he fails to pull out. His arms come over her breasts and he spills into her freely, the warmth and wet sensation enough to tip her over the edge a second time. She's right behind him as she tremors and shockwaves shoot throughout her body.
Rick flips her over and collapses beside her, breathing hard. For a while, that's all they do, spent on the bed as they eye the ceiling dazedly. She feels the culmination of their pleasure wet inside of her and coated along her upper thighs and she finds she doesn't regret how they let themselves get carried away.
The War's almost over. They were going to see to it that it was. Maybe it's time to start thinking about after…
Bit by bit they regain their strength. Rick kisses her and let his hands run over the fit yet curvy shape of her body. He likes to let his hands settle on her ass. This time's no different.
"I missed you," he mutters against her lips.
"I'm back now," she says.
Before he can go on, she silences him with another kiss.
She doesn't want him to fret about her any longer. She needs him to understand she's okay and he doesn't need to give into his anxiety. That he can't drive himself insane worrying about her in this dangerous, unpredictable world of theirs.
She would always return to him no matter what.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Her deep brown skin looks so smooth.
Her full lips. Her wide set eyes. Her petite yet toned, curvy body.
All of its temptation.
It's a sight he can't get out of his mind.
Just the thought of the warrior chick with the sword makes him hard.
He realizes everything he heard about her must be true. The way she swings her sword and slices with exact precision. Or how she's taken down his men with little challenge, with such ease it's as if it were a fun pastime for her.
He's not a liar.
He's impressed. She's marked him. The only one ever to.
If he's upfront about it, the last few times he's fucked his wives, he's closed his eyes and thought about her. He's imagined what it'd feel like to flick his tongue over her dark brown nipples or to run his hands down her curvy body and stick them between her thighs, plunge his digits past her wet, swollen lips. He doesn't know for sure, but he always imagines her moans as a low trill, sultry and poignant for his ears to take in as he next plunges his dick into that mouthwatering pussy.
Negan shudders at the thought. He hasn't been this turned on since he barbed Lucille.
Rick having such an incredible warrior woman to himself is a crime. To think he could entice her to be his, he could turn the tides and gain not only a powerful ally but a lover in one, makes him strain against his jeans.
The future opens to him, where she's the Queen by his side, and the Saviors' reign stretches beyond his wildest dreams. It's everything he's ever wanted. Everything he deserves, as he knows with her he can breed his brood and implant his legacy for the rest of time. The absolute peak of human perfection.
It's where she belongs, by his side ruling. And if she refuses, he'll see to her end himself.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Carl and Judith come back home that evening.
They spend time together as a family. Both are none the wiser to the threat their parents faced throughout the day. It's best left unsaid, though they know Carl suspects.
That night, they settle into bed and Rick can't let go of his anxiety.
"You were in no shape to go," he tells her in the dark. His arms are around her, swathed over her breasts and stomach as he holds her close to him. "You're still healing. You could've sent somebody else."
He's partly right. She's still in recovery. Her fight with the heapster a mere two weeks ago left her bruised and battered. She'd survived by the skin of her teeth, and with wounds still tender, she risked quite a bit venturing beyond the walls to lure Negan and his men away.
"I knew I couldn't let them reach Carl and Judith," she says. "I could've asked somebody else to go, but I had to be sure."
It's the unapologetic truth.
Rick accepts it. He says, "I get that but next time…please don't go alone. Michonne, I can't come home again to find you gone…"
His raspy words coming in the dark leave her thinking. The softer part of her is endeared, but the warrior side balks and rejects his request to stay put while he's out there battling Negan and the Saviors. Injured or uninjured, she refuses to stand on the sidelines and watch the turmoil unfold. She's never been a woman to shy away from getting her hands dirty—she's always been headstrong and adamant to do her part.
She voices this.
"I'm going to do whatever I need to do to keep our family—and Alexandria—safe," she says. "Just like you. Just like everybody else. I know you want me safe, Rick, and I get that…but I can't stand by and let shit go to hell. That's not me."
He sucks in a breath. His face buries into the back of her neck. No words are offered.
"We're a team," she says. "And we can't beat him alone. We'll beat him together, remember?Me and you."
She waits for him.
He's thinking. He's relenting even if he doesn't like the idea she's putting herself in danger when she's still in recovery. But it's the world they live in, and she's the strongest woman he's ever known. She knows what she can handle. He can't stop her and he realizes he doesn't want to. While a part of him will always crave to protect her, the larger piece of him recognizes he can't do this without her. They're a team, a packaged deal, and if anyone's going to fuck Negan's world up, it's going to be the two of them together.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
"Rick…"
"We can do this," he tells her. "We'll get him—me and you—we'll end this with him. I know that now. We're gonna end this."
He can see her smile in the dark as she turns over, rolling the front of her body flush against his, and she kisses him in delight.
"Yeah," she says, "we will."
"Me and you," he promises. "We're gonna win."
She knows it's the truth. With every fiber in her being, she believes him.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
The acrid stink of gunfire lingers in the air. Smoke hazes along with it, thickened by each new shot fired. These bullets shoot forth in cracked explosions so loud the rest of the world is put on mute.
Alexandria's Safe Zone moniker has long ago fallen by the wayside. The community is a war-torn mess in their biggest fight for survival yet. Foes face off in every direction, unrelenting until the other body drops.
Michonne slinks out from between cellar doors to the community's safehouse. She lands onto her feet as she also unsheathes her katana. Her first priority when the battle kicked off had been to get Judith to safety. Now, it's to end this shit once and for all.
She scuttles across the lawn with both hands gripped on the hilt, blade angled to the ground. Feet ahead of her, beyond some shrubs, she can see a brawl unfold. It's Eric and some Savior, grappling for control of a rifle. The Savior gains the upper hand with an elbow to Eric's chin. Eric hits the pavement on his back and the Savior raises the rifle to fire.
Her katana descends on the Savior in a slash that cuts him off at the neck. Blood splatters everywhere, head hinged by sinew. His body wilts, rifle still in his hands. She wastes no time helping Eric up, on the move again across the clouded streets of Alexandria. Along the way, her blade is as fluid and natural as any other body movement of hers, occasionally swiping left and right to kill both walker and Savior.
The deeper into Alexandria she makes it, it's clear the Survivors have turned the tides against the Saviors. Though they've suffered many losses, the three allied communities are pushing back against invading forces. Saviors continue to drop like flies. Others battle it out, refusing to retreat as they fight tooth and nail.
Michonne pauses only slightly to scan the area. Even through the burnt shrouds leftover from endless gunfire, she makes out Negan's form. He's got his beloved slung over his shoulder. His heads tossed back in laughter. Someone's kneeling before him. She breaks out in her fastest run yet. The closer she gets she places the soon-to-be victim.
Father Gabriel doesn't cower as Negan raises the bat. He holds his chin up high. Pure valiance is in his eyes. She picks up her pace, opening her arm up for a giant sweep of her katana. She's mere footsteps away when a single gunshot sticks out above all the rest. Its bullet lodges itself in the wood of Negan's precious.
The quarter most top of Lucille is blown off. The splintered wood breaks apart, sticking out from between the barbed wire's teeth. Negan's eyes bulge. His face goes white in shock. He doesn't move for a long second as he eyes the damage done to his love.
Michonne's more interested in the bullet's origin. Her gaze travels toward the source. She smirks.
Rick's coming down the garden's slope, Python aimed to pull the trigger again. He does. The second bullet narrowly misses. Michonne takes the opening, as Negan ducks, to charge toward him with katana overhead. He spots her only as she closes in. His horror over Lucille dissipates. She's surprised to see a glint in his eyes as he looks up at her.
Michonne goes to strike, but the world is knocked askew. A convulsive shock rumbles into existence in the form of a large fireball. The flames eat up houses, cars, people. Anything and anyone in its line of fire is engulfed. Everything else in the vicinity is thwacked off-kilter, rocked by the massive blast.
The source is a grenade chucked by a desperate Savior in a last ditch effort.
She finds herself on her side, katana inches past her fingertips. She pushes herself up and searches wildly for Negan. He's gone. Lucille too. Her heart hammers against her chest. She snatches her katana off the ground and realizes the man dashing into her line of vision is Rick. He's focused. His features are tightened, skin red. She follows his gaze and spots the retreating leather-clad asshole.
He hops into a jeep alongside Simon. The tires climb over uneven gravel in their haste to getaway.
Rick tosses one look to the fire swallowing up their home. She can see it on his face. His thoughts are on Carl and Judith. She's opening her mouth to speak when Father Gabriel does. His skin is charred and gashed and his limbs are shaking, but his words come out with a reassuring resolve.
"Go!" he tells them. "I'll ensure Carl and Judith make it to safety. You have my word."
She's beside Rick in what seems to be the next blink of an eye. They're in a pickup truck and Rick's boot is pressed down on the gas as hard as it'll go. The black jeep comes into view in no time. Simon's driving is erratic, swerving along both lanes of the road to keep them on edge.
"We're gonna have to run 'em off," Rick says through gritted teeth. Sweat clings to his brow as he sits up on the steering wheel.
Michonne turns her eyes to the jeep in time to see Negan twist in his seat, barrel of a shotgun pointed their way.
"Watch out!" she screams. She ducks in her seat as a bullet pierces the windshield.
Rick bends low enough to narrowly miss the shot. Their truck veers leftward to the road's shoulder. They hardly have time to recover before Negan reloads and fires again, screaming profanities into the air. Michonne's slumped halfway down her seat as she loads her magazine for retaliation.
The jeep comes to such an abrupt stop Rick doesn't have time to brake. The pickup's front crashes into the jeep's back. Both cars are sent on a skid across the asphalt, eventually off road into the trees. Negan and Simon's trick backfires on them as their jeep careens into a tree harder than anticipated.
Without the safety of a seatbelt, Rick hits the steering wheel. Michonne the underside of the glove compartment. Dizziness sets in for the seconds to follow, but both fight through it. Rick grabs his pistol and turns to her. She gives a nod then looks beyond, to where the jeep is molded into a tree.
Burnt rubber hits their nostrils as they get out the truck. Its mixed with the woodland's earthy pungency to create an entirely new odor. The smell is strong to the point it becomes an unsavory taste.
Simon's body is flopped over the steering wheel. His eyes are closed. Blood trickles down the bridge of his nose, originating from a deep cut on his forehead. He's still alive, though, as he jerks halfheartedly in his seat in a fight for consciousness.
Rick raises his Python and puts him to rest.
Michonne surveys the area. Negan is nowhere to be found.
They share a glance. Then they listen.
Pick up any sounds surrounding them. The snap of a twig. The crunch of a leaf. The click of a trigger.
Rick's fingers brush her arm. He motions to their right with a tilt of his head. They move as one, silently but swiftly for the thicket of trees. Michonne sees what he sees. Some imprints in mud, partly covered by the yellowing leaves of autumn. It's not much to go on, but it's something.
They track Negan through the forest like a hunter tracks his game.
The deeper they make it the sloppier he seems to get. He stops covering his footsteps, starts making small cracks of noise here and there. They're cautious nonetheless, not entirely convinced if it's a mistake or a ploy.
Afternoon is dying, fading away in streaks of pinkish oranges for dusk. The wind picks up and adds to the disarray in its rustling of the trees and bushes. They press on, more determined as time passes. If they have to search all night for the bastard, they will.
They're passing between thinning trees, taking note of a boot imprinted beneath as he finally reveals himself in a frenzy of bullets. He pokes out from behind a tree some thirty feet off with Simon's assault rifle in hand. Next second, he's firing away at them with his tongue punctured by his teeth. The bullets fly as they dive for cover. Rick creeps along the bark of the tree he's chosen, edging out to fire back.
It's as his back presses into the bark again that Michonne catches his eye in his peripheral vision. Her right hand is gripped over her left arm. He almost abandons his post, but Negan sprays some more bullets into the air.
Their eyes meet.
"I'm alright," she says. "It's a graze. Guess it's the asshole's revenge."
Rick's jaw clenches and he's done playing games. He emerges from behind the tree to find Negan hidden. He's hastily restocking, down to his last magazine. Rick seizes the open window. He breaks out into a sprint for closer range, firing yet again.
The two men end up in a tussle as Rick misses and Negan tackles him. They roll amongst the heaps of leaves and sunken pits of mud entangled with one another. Negan lands a punch to Rick's nose, releasing blood from his nostrils. Rick manages to leverage enough momentum to turn them again, spinning them over until Negan's head digs into the earth.
Rick opts for a chokehold until the smooth metal of his pistol gleams at him from just beyond. He goes for it. Negan desperately grabs onto his leg and they fall again into the mud. Their wrestling has no end in sight, turning over constantly to come out on top.
"Get off him!"
Michonne comes to a stop feet away, katana ready as soon as Rick rolls out the way.
The two men finally separate. Rick breathily rises to his feet, a wet curl in his face. He immediately goes for his Colt Python.
"Up on your knees. Now."
Negan does as he's told, though it's with a grin aimed her way. Somehow, he's cocky even in defeat.
"You're done. Understand?" Rick snarls.
Negan's grin is challenging. He says, hands held up, "you sure about that? Maybe I can talk my way outta this one. I always do, right? If you were going to kill me, you would've done it as soon as you grabbed your gun."
Michonne glances to Rick, notices how each breath is a seethe. Yet, he doesn't pull the trigger. She itches to swing her katana. Almost does.
"Do you really think offing me is going to lead to peace? You're fucking dumber than I thought."
"Maybe not, but I know putting a bullet between your eyes'll make me smile," Rick retorts.
Negan's black eyes focus on Michonne again. He puts his best charmed face forward. He says, "ever thought about what you could really have? Forget all the unrealistic peace bullshit. Ever think about what it'd be like to really win? Let that sink in. I mean, hot damn, you're a force to be reckoned with. So am I. How about we rule this fucked up world together?"
Michonne's brown eyes seek out Rick's, but otherwise their faces are vague and unreadable. Neither say a word.
"Well?" he prompts. "Kill me and you still lose. Fuckery still goes on. You gonna choose the winning side?"
Michonne's answer comes at last. It's a smile. It's far-reaching 'til it sparks in her eyes and her pearly whites bare themselves to him. She says rather calmly, "I already have."
He opens his mouth to argue, but he's interrupted. She spins, swings her katana through the air to bring her merciless blade through his chest. His mouth hangs open and his white shirt darkens to an enlarging blotch of red. Her blade lingers pierced in his chest for a few agonizing seconds then she withdraws in as swift of a motion as she entered.
Negan falls forward now on both hands and knees, fingers clawed into the dirt. He's choking, gasping for air. He wheezes, "you fucking dumb bitch."
"The only bitch here is you," she says.
Rick kicks his hands out from underneath him. He faceplants into the ground, still sputtering to get some air. The color drains from his skin as he rolls onto his back and looks upward to the sky. Rick and Michonne rob him of that, though, stepping over him to block the view. Rick kneels.
"You're done," Rick tells him huskily. He grins up at Michonne. "Think we'll hang around and watch you bleed out ourselves."
Michonne shares in his grin, welcoming him when he stands upright with a kiss to the lips.
It's one of Negan's last sights to be seen, as the life drains away from his body on his steady bleed out. Soon his eyes begin to flutter to a close and he takes his last bit of air.
Their victory begins to sink in and the burden they've felt for so long finally lightens.
"It's over," Michonne whispers.
Rick nods, an arm around her waist. "The hardest part anyway. Now? We rebuild. Me and you."
She watches as his grin widens and she repeats his words, saying, "me and you."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Author's Note: Thanks for reading this one shot. I'm not sure when I'll get back to writing new content for BDAD/SOTF, but hopefully it will be soon. In the meantime, I've decided to post a couple "deleted" scenes I have for a few of my multi-chapter fics. I will be doing this on my tumblr inktosling21 so if you're interested in some extras from stories like BDAD or Cowboy Romance, check it out. I'll likely start posting them today or tomorrow. Anyway, thanks guys for any feedback I receive. :)
