Lemonade
Summary: Michonne is preparing a special surprise for her two favorite people!
A/N: Season 4 except the Governor was mauled by a bear and never came back to the prison.
I rewrote this whole chapter. I really hope you like it! Please review!
….
Chapter 1 – When Life Gives You Lemons
Michonne pushed aside the curtain to the prison cell turned bedroom that she shared with Beth.
It'd been a couple weeks since the illness had passed through the community of survivors and Michonne had ultimately given up her search for the Governor. Like Daryl said, the trail was cold.
Until the other cell blocks could be cleaned out again most people had to double up and share rooms. Beth was a good roommate but right now Michonne was relieved to find the room empty.
She paused and glanced around to make sure that nobody was nearby to interrupt her mission before pulling the curtain closed behind her.
The crate with her meager possessions sat in the corner of the room, a jacket casually draped over it.
Michonne removed the jacket and rummaged around, pushing aside the box of matches, the little sewing kit, and various other items that she'd collected on her travels.
She pulled out a beat-up can of Country Time pink lemonade mix and set it on the messy desk.
Then she picked up a plastic grocery bag. Inside were two water bottles tied up next to a cool pack that she'd found in a first aid kit.
Good. The water felt nice and cool. She unwound the shoelaces tying it all together and set the water bottles on the desk.
Michonne smiled, pleased that everything was proceeding according to plan.
Working quickly, Michonne uncapped the bottles and carefully scooped some sugary pink powder into each one. She screwed the caps back on, brushed off the extra powder that had spilled, and shook vigorously until the light pink color spread through the water.
Pausing to take a small sip, Michonne decided that the lemonade was just sweet enough. Everything was ready.
Before Beth or someone else could come in and ask what she was doing and why they couldn't have some, Michonne put both water bottles back in the flimsy plastic sack, tossing the cool pack in as well for good measure.
Pushing aside the curtain, Michonne made a bee-line for the exit.
Once outside in the golden afternoon heat, she headed straight for the field, squinting against the brightness until she spotted what she was looking for.
….
Rick Grimes knelt beside a row of tomato plants, sleeves rolled up above his elbows. The work had a certain rhythm to it. Push the trowel into the dirt, pull the weeds, toss them aside, and repeat.
Aside from Hershel, Carl, and occasionally Daryl, the others rarely came to bother him out here. The garden was a small refuge from the outside world and Rick liked it that way.
An old country song hummed in his ears, barely drowning out the sounds of the ever-present walkers lining the fence. The music reminded him of riding in his grandfather's truck when he was a kid.
Suddenly Rick felt something tap his shoulder, startling him out of his memories. He looked up to see Michonne standing beside him and immediately felt embarrassed that he hadn't heard her approach.
"Hey," Rick said, taking off his gloves and pulling the ear buds out.
As always, he was happy to see the dreadlocked warrior woman. For a second he was worried that something was wrong, but her coy smile told him not to worry.
Sometimes he tried to tell himself not to get too used to having her around, but it didn't do much good. The fact was Rick enjoyed being around her. He knew Carl did too.
"Drink this," Michonne said before he could form a question.
She held out a plastic water bottle.
Rick tried to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand but only managed to smear a streak of dirt on his face. It was already late summer and the Georgia heat had not abated in the least.
He took the proffered bottle gratefully, only at that moment realizing how thirsty he was.
"It's cold!" Rick exclaimed.
The cool sensation against his palm was completely unexpected. Upon closer examination, he realized that the clear bottle held a light pink liquid.
"What is this?" Rick asked, disoriented. Michonne tended to have that effect on him, with or without surprise gifts.
"Hurry and drink it already," Michonne answered ambiguously.
Rick did as he was told. He screwed off the plastic cap and brought the bottle to his lips.
The sweet, lemony flavor filled his mouth and for a heartbeat he was back at his old house, sitting on the porch after a long day on patrol, watching a young Carl run around and play with his toy trucks in the grass.
"Lemonade!" Rick said in wonder, a grin spreading across his face.
"Where did you get this?" he asked Michonne, tilting his head curiously.
"I made it," Michonne replied, shrugging nonchalantly.
Rick smiled. If she didn't want to share her secrets, that was fine. He took another long swallow, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat and spread through his stomach. It was such a simple thing, but he'd almost forgotten what it felt like.
He felt a rare moment of lightness. They were standing in a little island of calm in a world full of roaming death and for a moment all of his worries receded like the tide going out. He wanted to hold on to this feeling as long as he could.
Rick titled the now half empty bottle towards Michonne with a questioning look, belatedly realizing that she didn't have any.
Michonne shook her head, "I had some earlier."
"I thought you were going on the run today," Rick said.
"It got pushed back," Michonne explained, "If Daryl can fix the truck we'll probably go in the morning."
Rick nodded.
Sometimes he felt guilty for not going on runs anymore, but not enough to go. This is where he belonged, close to Carl and Judith, away from the life and death decisions.
A couple people walked along the gravel driveway near the edge of the garden, probably on their way to join the next fence clearing shift. Distracted from their peaceful moment together, Rick and Michonne glanced over to see that they were newcomers, from a small group that Daryl and Glenn had brought in about a week ago.
Snippets of their conversation carried through the still air. Rick kept quiet, inadvertently eavesdropping.
"To hear Glenn tell it, you'd think he was some badass cowboy or something, rode into Atlanta on horseback and saved a whole bunch of people from the dead ones. Some real Wild West shit."
"I thought he drove a tank into Atlanta."
"What? No, man, that can't be it. I thought he was a cop, not a soldier."
"No, I'm telling you, there was definitely a tank."
"Whatever, it doesn't matter. Anyway, what I'm saying is, all that can't be true. The guy who did all that, led them all the way out of Atlanta, is the same guy who spends all day watering the flowers? Doesn't add up."
One of them laughed and the other continued, "There's no way some lame farmer could do all that. Ain't no way, man…"
Their conversation faded as they passed by.
Rick's expression was unreadable. He looked at the sky, at the tomatoes, anywhere but at Michonne.
The words of a few strangers didn't bother him. Rather, what he didn't want to face was the possibility that the woman standing beside him might agree with them.
At this point Michonne was probably the only one who hadn't given him some version of the 'You can be a farmer, Rick, but you can't just be a farmer' speech.
Rick frowned, hand tightening on the water bottle, bracing for the worst.
"Hey," Michonne said, nudging him with her elbow.
"Don't listen to them, Rick," she said with her trademark confidence.
She had a way of making him believe whatever she was saying, even if he'd been thinking the opposite only a moment ago.
He finally met her eyes, feeling more relieved than he should have.
Her earnest expression softened then, a warm smile glinting in her brown eyes.
"Besides," Michonne added lightly, "I think farmer looks good on you."
Rick couldn't help but crack a smile. Michonne was definitely flirting with him and he wasn't going to pass up on the perfect opportunity to tease her back.
"So you have a thing for farmers, huh?" Rick said in his Southern drawl, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
"Hmm…" she made a show of considering, then shook her head and looked right at him.
Rick took a long swallow of lemonade, feeling proud that he turned the tables on her for once.
"No, just the one," she said decided.
The lemonade caught in Rick's throat. He coughed and sputtered and tried to cover his mouth with his hand.
Michonne laughed out loud, highly entertained by Rick's reaction. He was sure that his face was bright red.
Michonne patted him on the back, trying to help despite her laughter.
He coughed again to clear his throat and looked at Michonne. She was still giggling, wiping her eyes from laughing so hard.
'Did Michonne just admit that she has a thing for me?' The question spun around in Rick's head, the suddenness of it mixing with the possible implications mixing with disbelief.
Michonne, finally done laughing, caught Rick staring at her curiously. For possibly the first time ever, Michonne looked away first.
Rick opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted.
"Hey, I thought you left already!" Carl's voice called from across the garden.
The two adults turned to see the boy making his way between the rows towards them.
"I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye," Michonne smiled at her young friend.
Carl stopped beside his father. He brushed the dirt off his hands and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm, only managing to spread more dirt around.
"Truck wouldn't start, would it?" Carl asked knowingly.
Michonne conceded, "That too."
Rick decided to put Michonne's comment out of his mind for the moment. She was probably only teasing him anyway.
"I got you something," Michonne said to Carl, holding out her plastic bag.
Carl's face lit up with excitement. He took the bag and reached inside, his hand closing around a full water bottle.
"Whoa! It's cold!" he exclaimed in surprise.
"Hurry up and drink it," Michonne urged him.
Carl didn't need to be told twice.
"This is awesome! Lemonade is my favorite thing in the world!" he shouted excitedly, all but jumping up and down, "Michonne! Where did you get this?"
"I made it," she replied, grinning at Carl's enthusiasm.
"Yeah, but how? How did you get it cold?" Carl blurted out in between sips of sweet tangy lemonade.
"With this," Michonne took the cold pack out of the bag and handed it to Carl.
"Ohh," Carl said, holding the small pack against his cheek.
"It's good, isn't it?" Rick said, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.
"Mhmm…" Carl's mouth was full.
"What do you say?" Rick prompted the boy, titling his head towards Michonne.
"Thank you!" Carl said.
"Thank you," Rick added sincerely.
It always warmed Rick's heart to see how affectionate Michonne was with Carl. She brought happiness to his son's life when Rick couldn't. He wanted to say thank you for making Carl smile today.
Michonne gave him a look that made him think maybe she understood what he meant to say. She always seemed to understand.
"Now, don't go telling anyone else you got the special treatment, okay? I have more lemonade mix but that was the only ice pack." Michonne cautioned.
"I won't," Carl promised.
"Here, you should have some too," Carl suddenly realized that Michonne didn't have any lemonade.
"Nah," Michonne shook her head.
"Come on, we always share," Carl insisted.
Michonne hesitated, and then gratefully accepted.
The three world-weary survivors lingered in the bright sunshine, sipping lemonade until the last sweet drops were gone, enjoying each other's company.
Eventually Michonne wandered off to see if she could help Daryl with the truck and Carl reluctantly returned to his chores.
Rick Grimes got back to work pulling weeds from his tomato patch, a sweet taste lingering in his mouth.
Michonne's bright smile and the way her eyes lit up when she laughed kept replaying in his mind like snippets of an old song that he'd almost forgotten about.
His mp3 player and headphones stayed in his pocket.
…..
TBC!