A/N: I wasn't going to do a Richonne fic until I finished my Dixonne (which I promise I'm still working on) fic but sometimes an ideal for a story comes to you and it won't leave you alone until you write it. This story is highly AU and told from Michonne, Rick and Carl's perspective it doesn't follow the seasons or the comics in any particular order and though there are characters from the show and comics I've changed them up and rearranged things to fit my story. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome, but in the immortal words of Erykah Badu: Keep in mind that I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my shit.

1. Don't Wake Daddy

The first day had been the hardest. It was the first time she'd been in any school since the shooting. She'd stood in the hallway looking down it, and though it looked nothing like her old school, she could see him gun in hand covered in blood running towards her. Panic had bubbled up in her stomach leaving an acid taste in her mouth and her heart had started pounding so hard for a moment she thought she was having a heart attack. She had consider turning around and running out of the school, but she'd never run from anything in her life. She hadn't run when the young man had pointed the gun at her face so she didn't run from her first day back.

She didn't know how she'd made it through that first month it was almost all a blur to her. Every time she took roll call she would stare at her students wondering if one of them had it in them. She wondered if any of them were carrying guns. Which student was wound so tight that any minute they'd snap.

None of the students or staff seemed to notice what a bundle of nerves she was that first month, or if they had they'd chosen to ignore it. Instead they all saw her as some kind of hero, after all that's what all the papers were calling her, hero teacher. She didn't feel like a hero if she was a hero ten people wouldn't have died that day. Five students and four teachers wouldn't be lying in the cemetery and the young man who started it all wouldn't have taken his own life.

After the shooting Michonne quit teaching and sold her condo in Boston and moved into the house she'd inherited from her grandparents in the small town of Possum Holler Georgia. For a year and a half she'd done nothing but fix up the house and putter around the garden. The people of Possum Holler were curious and gossiped about her but did not pry overmuch and that was the way she liked it. Michonne had planned on an early retirement, but early retirement was not something that set well with her. Neither was giving into fear she had always wanted to be a teacher and she wasn't going to let anyone take that from her. Growing up she was the one kid in her neighborhood that always played school during summer vacation. Even her teachers had known that she was going to become a teacher. When the head of the English department retired that year at Possum Holler high school it did not take Michonne much convincing to go back into teaching, but it had taken a great deal to work up the courage to step inside a school again.

Now three-fourths of the school year was over and Michonne was proud of herself for making it this far. The slow pace of the tiny town was taking some getting used to, and her social life had been shot to hell but the trade off was peace of mind. Besides her job kept her so busy that she did not have much time to mourn for her lost social life. The school's curriculum was about ten years behind and a majority of the students didn't go on to graduate let alone seek a higher education. Most of her students didn't believe they could graduate, but Michonne would never allow them with getting away with any less than what she knew to be their best. She put in long hours staying after school to tutor students or just to listen to them whenever they needed someone to talk to. Today was another long day for Michonne she had a parent teacher conference with the town's sheriff about his son Carl. The sheriff didn't seem to interested in his son's academics though he'd already cancelled on her twice.

A locker slammed shut and Michonne jumped splashing hot coffee over her arm and desk. "Shit!" Michonne swore out loud. It happened a year and a half ago and she thought it would be enough time to stop jumping every time she heard a loud noise, but she was wrong. She reached into her desk draw and found some napkins and began wiping up the mess before it soaked the papers she'd been grading. It was amazing when she'd first heard the gun shots she didn't equate the noise with an actual gun, but after she knew what a gun shot sounded like she equated every bang as a gun shot.

"Ms. Mitchell?" A voice called from the doorway of her classroom.

Michonne looked up to the doorway of her classroom. "Yes Carl?"

"My dad is going to meet you here you know for the parent teacher conference, but he wanted me to stay after school he said he'd drive me home after you were done."

"Very well I'm just grading papers, she gestured vaguely, have a seat anywhere you'd like."

The young man slipped into one of the desk in the middle of the room and took his homework out of his book bag and began to work. "Ms. Mitchell?"

"Yes?"

Carl scrunched his face up and looked uncomfortable and his cheeks turned red. Michonne knew right away what he was going to ask her. She couldn't be upset with him everyone else had already questioned her about it at least he had shown more restraint than most adults.

"Yes?" she prompted again.

"Was it scary?" His eyes quickly darted up to look at her then quickly looked away. "Never mind sorry."

"It's OK Carl." She sighed feeling her palms sweat as she thought about that day. It had been so normal so boring that there was no way she could have known, no way anyone could have known until it was too late.

"It was very scary, but not until afterwards not until everyone had time to realize what really happened."

"Why do you think he did it? I mean was he bullied or something?"

"Carl is there something you'd like to talk to me about, is there something troubling you? I know I'm your teacher but you can come to me with anything."

"I don't want to shoot anyone!" Carl exclaimed his whole face flushing bright red again. "I just hate this school . Everyone keeps talking about my mom and it makes me angry. I get angry a lot and sometimes I wish- but I never would do it. I know it's wrong please don't tell my dad he wouldn't understand."

"Carl I want you to do me a favor, she opened her desk and pulled out a spiral bound notebook, I want you to start writing down your feelings. You don't have to do it everyday and you don't have to show it to anyone, but sometimes writing things down helps."

"Do you write things down?"

"I do and I also see a therapist. I was hesitant at first but it's been a real help, and there's no shame in asking for help when you need it."

"May-maybe I should see s-someone I try to talk to my dad but-" Carl broke off and looked out the window. "I should finish my homework."

Michonne went back to grading papers. She would not push him in to talking to her if he felt like telling her about his troubles at home he would. She had a fair ideal of what was going on anyway, but she'd never put much stock into idle gossip.

"I think maybe I should call my dad he might have forgotten that the conference was today."

Michonne looked at the clock on the wall and now realized that Carl's father was a half hour late.

The young man scowled. "It's going straight to voicemail."

"Well, Michonne said straightening a stack of papers, if he's not here in fifteen minutes I'll give you a lift home."

"Do you know where I live?"

"I'm sure I can find it if you gave me directions."

"OK." Carl mumbled and slumped down into his seat.

After twenty minutes had passed Michonne decided that she could wait no longer. She had things she needed to do and she was sure that Carl would like to get home. "Do you have all of your things?"

"Yes Ms. Mitchell." Carl replied pulling his backpack on to his shoulders.

"Good then let's go pay your father a visit shall we."

2

Carl was embarrassed to have Ms. Mitchell in his house. Nothing was ever clean any more, he watched as she took in the piles of dirty laundry on the couch and Judith's toys spread haphazardly all over the living room floor. The TV was still on and his dad was snoring away on the couch still in his sheriff's uniform. Judith was crying in her playpen and when she saw her brother she pulled herself up and reached her chubby arms out for him.

"Hey, hey Jude." He cooed lifting up his sister and rocking her in his arms. "Her pullup is wet." He explained to Ms. Mitchell and then turned his eyes towards the couch where his father was still sleeping. "He's usually not like this but he's been working nights now." Carl explained feeling the need to justify his father. They weren't getting along lately but he still didn't want anyone thinking badly of him.

"Seems as though your father has a lot on his plate." Ms. Mitchell said evenly.

His father woke with a start. "Carlisthatyou?"

"Yeah dad it's me and Ms. Mitchell."

"Who?" He asked sitting up and grounding the sleep out of his eyes.

"I'm Michonne Mitchell Carl's English teacher we were supposed to have a parent teacher conference today."

"Shit that was today!"

"Dad!"

"Sorry Carl." His father apologized sheepishly. "Mrs. Mitchell I'm so sorry. I must have overslept I just got switched to the graveyard shift and I guess I'm not used to it yet." He stood up and raked his fingers through his hair. "My name is Rick." He held out his hand

"It's Ms. Mitchell and it's fine this time." She said shaking his father's hand.

"I really am sorry."

"Shall we talk now?" Ms. Mitchell asked and Carl smirked from her tone of voice he could tell it was not really a question it was a demand.

Carl did not get to hear his father's response because he took his sister to her room so that he could change her pullup. Judith's room was the only room in the house that always remained clean. No matter how hectic things got his father at least made sure Judith had everything she needed whether it be clean clothes, food or plenty of hugs and kisses.

Carl wasn't sure how he felt when his mom first told him she was going to have a baby. Part of him had been glad because his parents had been fighting an awful lot and he thought a baby might make them get along better, but he'd been wrong. He'd been very wrong.

After Judith was born his mom had changed. She stayed in bed for days at a time and she would leave Judith in the crib crying. His mother who prided herself on her looks wouldn't change her clothes for days or comb her hair and it always seemed to Carl that she was crying. He never fully understood what was wrong with her but he'd heard the women at his church saying his mom had the "baby blues."

"It will pass." They said. "These new moms are so fragile in my day we didn't have all this postpartum nonsense." They said. Carl had hated that hated how everyone in town talked about his mom as if she could not hear what they were saying about her. When his mother had forgotten Judith at the pediatricians everyone in town had something to say about that. Her friends refused to talk to her and she'd been kicked out of the PTA, and even his dad had screamed at her for being a bad mother. Two days after the pediatrician incident his mother had asked him to take Judith to the park and when he'd come back home the police and fire department were there and his dad was crying.

3

Rick knew he was about to be told off. Carl's new English teacher had been trying to talk to him for quite sometime but he kept putting her off. Lately it had been his habit to put off all the unpleasant things in his life. His parents were on his back to move back in with them on their Kentucky horse farm. Lori's parents kept leaving messages on his phone wanting him to come down to Atlanta so that they could see their newest grandchild. Carl would hardly speak to him anymore and Rick could hardly blame him. He had not been there for his wife like he should have. Lori had been depressed when Carl was born but it had not been so bad then, or maybe he'd been more supportive then.

Things were different with this second pregnancy. When they had Carl they were still young and lived in a tiny apartment above a bowling alley and life had seemed like an exciting adventure. With Judith he had a mortgage, two car notes, credit card debt and now two kids he would have to put through college. He wasn't young anymore either. He was closer to forty an age he had not prepared himself for, an age he never saw himself reaching. He thought of what a baby would mean at forty but he didn't stop to think what having a baby meant to Lori.

He'd been a selfish prick and the irony of it all was that he finally knew depression. He knew what it was like to physically not be able to get out of bed because going through the motions of another day were so overwhelming you wanted to sleep forever. He knew what it was like to be so apathetic towards living that you could step in front of a truck and not care if it hit you. He knew what it was to slip into a place so dark and deep that there seem to be no way out, and it was probably only an inkling of what Lori felt. He knew now that depression was physical just as much as it was mental. He had failed Lori and in failing her he'd failed his son and daughter.

"I'm very concerned Mr. Grimes." Ms. Mitchell began.

"Please call me Rick."

"I'm very concerned about your son and you quite frankly."

"I'm concerned about Carl too, but he won't talk to me he just bottles everything up but I know he's hurting."

"Have you ever consider talking to anyone?"

"What like a shrink?"

"A psychiatrist Mr. Grimes. I think you and your son would both benefit from talking to someone."

"You mean someone other than me."

"I think your son would like to talk to you but doesn't know how. I don't know the particulars of what happened in your life, but I do know it's having a profound effect on your son and despite all of that he's still a very good student with a very good head on his shoulders so you most be doing something right, but I won't lie what I walked in on today is concerning."

"I know it's the switch to night shift it'll take some time getting used to but we'll get there."

"I think that's only part of your problem. As a teacher I really should report matters like this, but I consider myself a pretty good judge of character Mr. Grimes and you don't seem like a bad man just an overwhelmed one. So I won't make a report to CPS for now, but I warn you if I don't see a marked improvement in Carl by the end of the school year I will report you sheriff or not. Are we clear on that Mr. Grimes?"

"Crystal Ms. Mitchell and please call me Rick."