He opened his eyes and realized one had almost swollen shut. Coming to, there was a pain in his throat that made it difficult to swallow, and his head pounded.
With his one good eye, he found himself on the couch. Groaning, he turned over and tried to right himself. That alone increased the pounding and blurred what little vision he had. How exactly had he ended up this way? It was looking down at his hands, covered in blood that reminded him of what happened. The anger had flooded over him again, and he had an urge to find Deanna. He'd make her see. Make her listen to reason. Make her see that killing him was the only course of action. He made himself sit up all the way, and attempted to stand.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
Rick turned his head toward the voice, and saw Michonne sitting in an armchair.
"I…" Rick cleared his throat. That one syllable caused a searing pain, but he tried again. "I need to find Deanna. Talk to her about him." His voice was hoarse and he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the agony his body was putting him through.
"You're not going anywhere." She leaned forward, her voice low. "You need to stay here. You're not the most welcome sight right now. Just rest."
He didn't want to rest. He wanted to finish what he started. Didn't they know? He was keeping them safe. They didn't realize you couldn't rest on your laurels, and live like things were the way they were before. You couldn't just let someone stay who beat women, maybe children, too. If he could make them see, really see-
"They'll exile him, maybe. Once he's recovered. Now it's time to get your head on straight." She sighed and leaned back, still watching him.
"Exile?" Rick could feel the adrenaline and anger wash over the pain. "Exile? He's been beating Beth- and no one does anything? Exile?"
Michonne sat up, "Beth? Rick, you mean Jessie. Beth is-"
"Yes, Beth. He was beatin' on her, and I did somethin' about it, and I'm the bad guy?" He shook his head.
"Rick, Beth's dead. You were there." Her voice didn't change, but her eyes narrowed at him. She could see his chest heaving. There was still blood on his face and hands, but Michonne could see that something very broken lay underneath. The sanctuary they found was too much for him-for them. The ease with which they met their days now had lulled them to sleep. All of them, except Rick.
"No." Rick shook his head. "She's not. I saved her." He buried his face in his hands.
Michonne studied him before picking her words carefully. "Rick. You tried to save her. We had to leave her behind in Atlanta. But now, it's Jessie who needed your help. You helped her."
When Rick didn't respond she continued. "If you're able, take a shower. Get into bed. Carol has Judith." She stood and looked down at him. The back of her mind registered that there was faint traces of blood smudged on the otherwise pristine couch.
Rick took a deep breath and dropped his hands, resting his elbows on his thighs. "It should be Beth with her." He looked up at her.
She nodded her head and offered him a hand up.