Broken
His mind was alive with erratic thoughts. Images flickered like flames before his tired eyes, tormenting him with their horrific reality.
If only things had been different somehow?
If only.
Only this was now his deal, the cards had been dealt and his naivety had been foolish.
How could he have been so stupid? So cock sure and confident that everything would fall into place, a place where he was king and she was Queen.
Only his friends, trusted allies had fallen instead. Crippling cries, the smell of blood strong in his nostrils had splattered across his face like a short, sharp slap. The harsh reality of the new world order had dragged him back to earth with a bang and what a bang it was.
And now he was a withering, broken doll. Too traumatised to push back, but too proud to give up.
Rick grimes was no longer the man she had fallen for, no. Instead he was an imitation of his former self. An actor playing the part of a leader, a dog with a new master.
His face had changed somehow and his eyes were lost in a secret anguish that he couldn't share.
Michonne was willing to share the burden though. To halve that anguish and mix it with her own, to understand his grief and relate, but he wouldn't let her.
And he wouldn't talk of that night. No matter how much she coaxed him, reassured him that it wasn't his fault he refused with a sadness that broke her heart all over again.
He was her idol, her saviour. She loved him like she'd never known love before and she hoped they could come back from this.
She hoped with all her might.
When she entered their bedroom the room smelt of despair. It clung to the walls relentlessly, reminding her of their tragedy once more, filling her with a sense of dread.
Rick sat like a lost toy. His shoulders slouched and his back coiled. Even his posture reflected his state of mind, the confidence had evaporated from him like steam from a kettle.
She didn't speak at first, just watched him from the doorway. Her beautiful man lost in thought and she knew those thoughts all to well.
He was unaware of her presence until she sat beside him on the bed. Their shoulders touched as she mimicked his posture, her way of relating to his sadness.
"This wasn't your fault"
Her words were delivered with a sincerity that begged him to believe her this time.
Rick turned to face her, blue eyes sharp with fresh tears. If only he could believe her.
They hadn't touched in days. Physical affection was an afterthought and Michonne missed the feel of his hands on her body, his lips on her skin.
She was worried at first to touch him but today was different. She reached out to brush the stray curls from his eyes with shy fingers. Purposely allowing them to explore the curve of his eyebrow right down to his jaw.
She rested there for a moment, contemplating whether to brave his full lower lip that now quivered under her touch.
She traced over his mouth so slowly Rick's eyes fell shut from the sensation.
"Please Rick, talk to me"
There was desperation in her tone, he could hear it. Rick wanted more than ever to talk but the words wouldn't come, no matter how hard he tired.
"Alright, then I'll talk for us both"
Michonne rested her forehead against his as the setting sunlight from the window flooded the bedroom. The silhouettes of their bodies now cast a shadow of two warriors as one.
"I'm still with you" she cired as tears rolled from her eyes.
She kissed his forehead slowly, then felt his arms embrace her body, the arms which still could make her feel she was in the safest place possible.
"I know" was all he could respond, his voice broken, unhealthy.
They held each other so tight as the sunlight faded from the room, a metaphor for the darkness that was still yet to come.