"We need you to take out The Samurai."
The words were uttered with such cool indifference he could feel his own blood run cold with them. What else had he expected from an agency that gave them a license to kill? Then again it wasn't so much the delivery as the actual words themselves.
Of all the people they could've tasked with the burning of one of their own they chose him and for a second all he'd heard was the rapid beating of his heart and his blood rushing through his veins. It'd taken a moment for it to come back, his hearing, and when it had he could faintly make out the reasoning for her so ordered death.
"––– Double agent. And we can't have her selling our secrets to anyone else now can we? It might seem like its out of left field but you're the right man for the job. She trusts you. Do you see what I'm getting at here?"
Of course he did. The theme was broken trust. She breaks their trust and then they order him to break hers. It was a vicious cycle, but one that was deemed necessary. He'd do anything for the organization, anything, but the idea of having to be her undoing was rubbing him the wrong way. He loved his job, loved what he did, every aspect of it, really, but for the first time the urge to refuse an assignment was gnawing at him.
"I do," Had been the stiffened response he'd given to his superior, visibly uneasy at the topic of discussion. "But I don't think I am the right man for the job."
"No, Grimes, you are. There is no one else. We're aware of the…bondyou share with her and we need to use it to our advantage."
So they knew about their relationship. Christ, how could he have expected that they didn't? They were probably always keeping tabs on the both of them.
"Then you know that I love her."
"I do. We all do."
And that was it, the real reason. She'd never see it coming from him. It wasn't just because she trusted him, but because they knew they were in love. He could feel time slow down, come to a halt as he realized his own employers hadn't just been transpiring against the woman he loved but, in doing so, him as well. They'd pushed for them to get closer all so that one day, should the need arise, they'd have a card up their sleeve. He was their ace in the hole.
But they were wrong he wouldn't do it.
"I can't. I won't. I'm not going to be your snake in the grass."I'm not going to follow your orders blindly any longer and assassinate the one person I've opened myself up to completely and irrevocably.
There was no line of action they weren't expecting and the minute the words fell from his lips he watched as his commander's finger found a button. And then watched again with little surprise as six trained guards bombarded him immediately. The armored sentinels racing through the door he'd entered through previously and taking him down. One delivered a swift kick to the backs of his legs bring him to his knees harshly before delivering another firm kick between his shoulder blades that brought him to the ground completely.
The force was unnecessary he wouldn't have fought back. And as they cuffed him and helped him back up to his feet he gave the man that had ordered it all one last reproachful look. He knew he'd be seeing him again soon but he didn't know if he'd ever see Michonne again, or the light of day for that matter.
He knew what this was, they were going to reprogram him, get him back on their side and if he refused and showed no signs of ever breaking they'd kill him.
It was that simple.
Rick slid the key into its designated hole and much to his surprise it unlocked. He expected that she might change her locks; it would've been the smart thing to do. Its what he would've done. But she hadn't and she would come to regret it, later anyway. For now she was gone, he'd derived as much while watching her from his station in the complex across the street. Where she'd gone was a mystery but all that mattered was that she was.
He kicked the door shut after stepping inside and bent down to retrieve the penny that had fallen to the carpeted floor in front of the door. Michonne had told him it was an old trick of hers used to alert her of anyone in her home. It was an alarm system without using the modern technology, one that her father had taught her and one that he'd loved. Except now he was wishing she hadn't trusted him enough to let him be privy to that information. It might've saved her. After recovering the piece of copper he moved to rest his black duffle on her love seat.
The only thing he need to do now was beat down the memories he had of them together in her place which was damn near impossible but he summoned every ounce of strength in his still healing body to do just that.
"Get your shit together, Grimes. You can do this. You have to do this."
There was no part of him that wanted to be the one to watch the light fade from Michonne's eyes but they'd beaten the essentialism in to him for four long months. Doing this, finally doing it, was unbearable but he found if he deduced it in his own terms it made it easier to stomach.
If he were the one to end it he'd make sure it was as quick as humanly possible, a bullet delivered to her brain by way of his mark 23 was more kind than anyone else would be to her. They'd torture her; make it as slow and insufferable as they could. He knew because he'd had to suffer at their hands and he didn't want that for her. Michonne was strong, the strongest person he knew, but even she couldn't run forever.
This would be his last act of kindness, the last act that translated all of the love he felt for. Or so he'd convinced himself.
He unzipped the bag as he thought about his reasoning pulling out his H & K mark 23 osprey suppressor. His eyes roamed over the pistol for a second before sliding it into the holster at his hip. He didn't know how much time he'd have before she came back but he couldn't waste anymore of it he needed to get in position.
The sound of the cell door sliding open pulled him from the broken bout of rest he'd nodded off in to. He hadn't gotten proper sleep in months and it was always because he was waiting for the moment when they'd come and snatch him from his cell to beat their beliefs back into him.
From what he could tell they'd only given him two days this time around but it wasn't like it mattered, whether they gave him two days or two weeks his body was hardly allowed the proper time for healing. He was littered with bruises his skin looking more like the canvas of a watercolor painting. There were black, blue, purple and yellow bruises, lacerations some deep and others not nearly as deep. Some were healing, scabbing over, and others were always being reopened never getting the chance to.
Two large guards pried him off of the thin mattress and all but carried him out of the cell, his body was so battered he couldn't find it in him to walk properly or care to. And his feet dragged behind him as they brought him to the room designated for his reprogramming sessions.
After his wrists were tied using the ropes attached to adjacent metal posts in the room they'd left him there to wait. He was forced to stand because he'd been told before that if he fell to his knees his wrist would snap like twigs and he knew that they would. The ropes were tightened around his wrists so that they allowed for no wiggle room and one wrong move would only add to his ceaseless pain.
"You know, Rick, you're my favorite subject. I don't think I tell you that enough."
He hadn't heard the other man enter the room and he tugged on the ropes as hard as his body would allow as Philip came into view. They'd always disliked each other, but it was an insult to have Blake be the one to dish out his torment. That, they all knew, only added to the anguish.
"I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to dish out the lesson you deserved but I'm glad you made it possible."
Philip unbuckled the utility belt he had wrapped around his waste and walked over to the table pushed up against the wall facing Rick. There was a one-way mirror above the table and he knew that there was undoubtedly an audience of the people that had ordered this watching him but he didn't care. He was more preoccupied with the utensil Philip planned on using on him today.
When he heard the whirring of the electric drill he narrowed his eyes, he didn't want to see the power tool embed itself into his skin but he wouldn't look away either, he refused to. He didn't scream often but there wouldn't be anyway around it today and Philip lived for the agonizing screams that he wasn't afforded easily.
As he approached him with the tool still making that insufferable noise he looked Rick dead in the eyes, "I hope she's worth it. And I hope you know after you've suffered through it all that she's still going to die. Your death will be in vain. And she'll suffer the same end as you. Slow, painful,deserved. But by all means continue to fight for your undying love. Your loyalty is admirable."
There was no time to reflect on his words because the second he was through he was pushing the drill into his flesh and through the thin layer of skin to the bone of his shoulder.
And Rick's only response was that of a bloodcurdling scream.
Michonne came to a halt after getting the door open. Her eyes scanned the carpet for the penny but found no trace of it. Someone was here ––– he was here. And she knew why he was. For the last four months he'd fallen off the face of the Earth and she'd wracked her brain for why that could've been until she'd realized it could only be for two reasons. She knew they had without a doubt told him of her betrayal and he'd refused to carry out their mission so he was either dead or reprogrammed to do what they'd trained them all to do from day one.
Judging by the lack of the penny's presence she knew they'd succeeded and she couldn't deduce whether or not she was elated at the idea that he was still alive or disheartened at the fact that he'd agreed to kill her. The part of her that loved him, that would always love him, was of course pleased that he'd survived everything they'd thrown at him. He was every bit as much a fighter as she was. But the part of her that recognized he was a natural born killer like herself was disappointed that he hadn't just accepted his end gracefully.
She tugged open her leather jacket and pulled her recon 1 out of its strategically placed sheath. He wanted to kill her and she was no doubt bringing a knife to a gunfight but she knew that if she could help it she wasn't going to kill him. The only thing she wanted to do was maim him and make him regret ever thinking he could take her out. The only person that could kill her was her and she'd reinforce that belief today.
There was no real way of knowing where he'd be but she knew there was at least a higher chance of him being situated somewhere in the back. With that thought in mind she held her knife at the ready and crouched low as she made her way towards the back of the house. She made certain to check the kitchen, living room – behind the furniture and on the patio, the hall closet, as well as the room she used for her painting extensively, on her way.
Rick was nowhere in sight which only confirmed her suspicion, he was waiting for her in her room somewhere. Michonne opened the door slowly as quietly as she could before creeping into the space. Her first destination was the closet but upon finding it empty she dropped to the ground and searched beneath the bed but it was another hit and miss.
He was in the bath. That was only place left and she swallowed thickly as she reared up on the room. The last thing she wanted was to get shot whether fatally or not, it hurt like a fucking bitch, and it was times like these she was glad she'd mastered the art of stealth. They didn't call her The Samurai for no reason. She was extremely light on her feet (and deadly with any form of bladed weapon) and she used that skill to her advantage.
The room was shrouded in darkness and as she entered she could feel his presence without having to see anything. However, when the shot went off it caught her off guard and she ducked immediately feeling shards of wood from the door's frame blast back against her. It was a warning shot that much she knew, if he wanted to hit her he would've.
Before she could get upright properly to do anything about him he was out of the tub and on her, hand wrapped around her throat and slamming her with every ounce of strength he could muster into the shattered frame. The grip he had on her neck was ironclad and she could feel herself becoming light headed as the hold wore on. She'd almost forgotten that she still had her recon in hand but the moment she remembered she brought it up to slash at him and he countered the move grabbing her wrist with his other hand and ramming her hand into the bathroom's wall until she released the weapon.
Rick didn't relinquish his hold on her wrist after she'd dropped the knife and she was glad because it left him open otherwise. Her last attempt at escape was a sharp blow of her knee into his groin and there was no time for him to block it, which she was thankful for. The full weight of the hit was delivered to his most sensitive area and he let go of her almost instantly moving to cup himself instead.
And he caught himself but it was too late. He'd left himself wide open, the first mistake, and she'd delivered a clean right hook to his face, sending him toppling over somewhat into the door. In his momentary stupor she reached down and grabbed her knife off of the bathroom floor before jolting him forward with a powerful kick to his back. He didn't fall as smoothly as she'd hoped, the will to fight still in him, and as he made to get back up she kicked him square in the ribs with the steel toe of her combat boots.
That earned her a disgruntled yelp as he landed flat on his back and with shaken fingers he began to reach for the gun within his holster but she was on him before he could grab it. Michonne straddled him like she had so many times before and she felt his abdomen contract as she seated herself atop him. Her knife was to his throat and her knee was digging into the hand that had sought to reach for the gun, crushing it.
She'd broken his nose and busted his lip, the blood marring his still faintly healing face. And the look on that face spoke volumes of the pain he was in. They'd sent him back out into the thick of it when he still needed time to heal and despite what had just occurred between them the realization tugged at her heart strings. She shoved the sympathy she felt for him aside though, this wasn't the time or place.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't slide this blade across your throat and let you bleed out right here, right now." The gaze in her eyes was murderous and at this point she didn't know if she was bluffing or not. After he'd nearly choked the life out of her she could genuinely envision killing him.
"I can't. If you slit my throat right now you'd be in the right. And you should."
She hadn't been expecting sincerity, what she had been expecting was propaganda. She thought he might try to appeal to her pathos, manipulate her emotionally. Pull the love card and all that. He hadn't.
"Why? Why are you following their orders? Why didn't you run the minute the set you free?"
"I'm doing, or I was doing, what I thought was for the best for you. One last act of kindness." She laughed bitterly at that response. He hadn't used it immediately but all she'd had to do was wait for it.
"Killing me would be what was best for me? Fuck you, Rick. That's probably the bullshit they fed you while they had you detained. Do this for her, Grimes. We'll just wind up torturing her like we did you. She'll die eventually at our hands and it'll be ten times worse than anything you could ever do."
His eyes drifted shut as she mimicked the things they'd said to him for months. And she watched as silent tears slipped past his squeezed shut eyes, he looked pained for the second time in under five minutes but she knew this pain ran deeper than anything physical ever could. She knew because she felt it too. They'd manipulated him and what was worse was that he'd believed them.
"Mich–"
"Well they were wrong," He'd opened his eyes when she started to speak again, "Nothing they could ever do to me would be worse than you trying to kill me. Don't you understand that? Rick, they're probably laughing at your idiocy. You think your doing this last act of love for me when in reality your doing their bidding and simultaneously committing an act far worse than anything they could ever do. I love you, I opened my heart up to you so dying at your hands, hands that I once trusted enough to touch me in the most intimate of ways, would be the worst thing that could be done."
He was stunned into silence tears brewing in his red-rimmed eyes like a storm. They truly had gotten to him and she couldn't believe he'd allowed them to break him so completely. Or maybe it was just that she'd broken him by loving him and letting him love her.
"I don't want to kill you. And I'm not. Moments ago I probably could've but I just can't. You look too pitiful. But know this, when you report back to the agency they will kill you. If you haven't killed me you're dead and if you have you're dead. I can almost guarantee that they're done with you."
Michonne lifted herself off of him just slightly her knee digging into his hand further with the shifting of her weight causing him to flinch. Her knife was still pressed to his throat as a warning and she brought her face closer to his so that he would hear her well and understand that she was not messing around.
"If you try anything after I get off of you. I will fucking kill you. And that will be my last act of kindness to you. Do you understand?"
Rick nodded slowly but that wasn't good enough, "I said Do. You. Understand?"
"I do."
The knife was finally pulled away from his throat but she leaned back and tugged his mark 23 out of its holster before getting off of him. Michonne didn't bother helping him up or casting a glance back at him she was done with him. But she could feel him hot on her heels as she rounded the corner that separated her bedroom and the bathroom.
"I said no initially."
He wanted her to see things from his point of view and she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief at his weak attempt to get back in her good graces.
"I know. And they beat your ass until you cried uncle."
He was in front of her now, having regained some courage, and was determined to have her hear him out. "I took those ass beatings and I never complained. I'd take as many as my body would allow if I knew it'd keep you out of their crosshairs. But it won't, it wouldn't have."
"Can't you see that I don't give a damn?" She shoved passed him and he watched her move to her closet and pull out an assortment of clothes then her own duffel bag. She was getting the hell out of dodge.
"I just want you to know I didn't give up on you. I didn't betray you, Mich."
His words brought her to a standstill and she turned around to look at him head on. "You didn't betray me? Oh so that wasn't you in hiding in my bathtub with a mark 23 ready to blow me away? And that wasn't you that nearly choked the fucking life out of me? It wasn't you that tried to kill me right? Because trying to assassinate your ex girlfriend isn't a betrayal at all right?"
Too much delight was taken in watching the way he stiffened at the facts she was throwing his way. Apparently he'd forgotten the reason why he was he in the first place. He'd also forgotten everything that had just transpired between them. But she hadn't and she wouldn't.
"Okay, fair enough. I did come here to kill you. I did nearly kill you. But its just because I was and am afraid for you."
"Yeah well you should be more afraid for yourself." Michonne sat the clothes and bag on the foot of her bed and began shoving them inside of it hurriedly. She didn't know if he thought she was lying or if he was purposely ignoring what she'd shared with him before but she was almost frighteningly certain they'd murder him once he came back regardless of the outcome of this.
"I'm not going back." He was at least listening to her and even though she was irrevocably pissed at him she was glad he wasn't walking back into that death trap. Though by the look of him he wouldn't get very far before they found him, he was just too badly wounded. He needed proper time and care to heal.
"Good." She placed his gun in her bag before zipping it shut and shooting him a sidelong glance. "Well, it's been real. Hopefully you survive longer than I'm estimating you will."
With that she grabbed the strap of the duffel and slung it over her shoulder, opened her jacket to sheath her knife and headed for her bedroom door.
"They said you betrayed them. Said you were working for someone else. Selling their secrets."
She came to a halt and looked over her shoulder at him, "I did, betray them, I mean, but only because I don't condone what they're doing. They'll take the whole world down with them if I let them and I can't."
There wasn't much time left to explain and after she'd finished she exited the room walking with purpose down the hall, he was following her again and she whirled around unexpectedly causing him to crash into her. He was usually more graceful, he anticipated these things; he wasn't on his A game. He would probably get caught sooner than she thought.
"Look! Stop following me. Stop asking me questions. I have to go."
"Just tell me why." His hand was splayed across his abdomen and her mind immediately went back to when he'd contracted the muscles in his stomach at the feel of her weight on him. Without thinking about it she batted his hand away and lifted his shirt the curiosity getting the better of her. The bruises she found defacing his skin made her stomach churn anxiously and it felt as though someone was reaching into her chest and squeezing her heart.
"Rick––" He pushed her hand away and pulled his shirt back down clearly not wanting her sympathy. That was the Rick she knew and loved. "There's this virus, they've been testing it out on people in countries that no one in the US has ever heard of. The virus kills these people, infects them, shuts down everything in their body. But get this they come back. Timing varies but it's a sure thing. Everyone comes back. Except they're not the same as they were before."
"What do you mean they come back?" His expression was her expression when she'd found out –– pure unadulterated perturbation.
"They're reanimated corpses, Rick. And they eat people; they have a sickening appetite that only human flesh can douse. The people we work for are making reanimated corpses as some form of never before seen warfare for the United States. They're testing it on these poor unsuspecting people that they think no one will miss and I couldn't work for them any longer. A killer with morals, I know, stranger things have happened."
His eyes were wide as saucers and it was as though he were trying to imagine what that might look like, someone dying and then coming back to life with an intense craving for human flesh. "Who do you work for now?"
"No one. I work for myself. With help."
"Let me help."
She didn't mean to but the spell of laughter simply came out and before she knew it she was full blown laughing in his face. He didn't seem to like how amused she was by his statement but then again who would?
"No. Never."
She had begun making her way to the exit again and Rick blocked her way to the door, pressing his back against it to keep her inside of the apartment.
"Let me help you, I can do it."
"You can barely walk. Move."
"I'll heal and then I'll be an asset to you. Please."
"Okay."
He didn't expect her to agree so readily and a victorious smile found its way to his lips as he moved out of her way. When Michonne opened the door and he stepped outside with her, ready to follow her to their next destination, she furrowed her brows.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm with you. We just–"
"No, no, no. You said you'll heal and then you'll be an asset. So heal, get yourself back in tip top shape, and then you find me."
"You're a ghost. How am I supposed to find you? Let alone make it out here by myself? They'll be looking for me. I can't heal if I'm constantly moving."
She gave him a slight shrug, as she slowly started backing away, "That's not my problem. Those were the terms we agreed upon. And, Grimes, if you die before you find me and this is our last meeting then I'd like to formally say goodbye."
Michonne started down the complex's corridor with a newfound speed and Rick watched her not bothering to follow. If that was the way she wanted to look at what he'd said then he'd let her. She didn't expect him to live out the rest of the week but he'd prove her wrong. He'd get back into pique physical condition and then he'd do the impossible, he'd find her.
"Yeah, goodbye. For now."