A/N: The show likes to mix things up and so do I, as you probably know. So in this instance, since Morgan and Carol are a completely fictitious pairing, but I still like to steal titbits from the comic, many of the things the characters say will be mixed. In some instances Morgan will take Ezekiel's role and lines and in some cases Carol will take Michonne's role and lines. Just so that you know. I also want to set the copyright straight, characters do not belong to me, nor do the bits I took from the comic book.
And bear with me on this, I know Caryl all the way, I like that couple, but I'm a sucker for unconventional love and I just can't help it when I start writing: my hand on the keyboard just moves by itself. Plus, I have the biggest crush ever on Morgan, like huge. I had to write a romantic story with him as the lead. At first it was just called Panacea and it was about him and Michonne, but then I saw season 6's mid-season finale and I just… gah! Carol and Morgan forever! I know, I know, I'm crazy. They hate each other… now. There's some strange connection going on there as well. Wouldn't it be interesting? Rambo Carol and Master Yoda Morgan? You guys let me know, or throw tomatoes at me, works either way.
Pandora & Panacea
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Pandora: The first mortal woman entrusted with a box containing all the illnesses, evils and hazards that could plague human kind, which she opened out of curiosity, releasing them to the world. A symbol of chaos and enthropy, Pandora's Box also contained one last hazard or blessing called hope; a sickness that keeps human kind holding onto the notion that things are going to get better.
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Panacea: Goddess of the universal remedy for all deceases, evils or difficulties; a universal cure with the potential to solve every hazard suffered by humanity. The mythical Panacea, often represented in symbols like the elixir of life, the philosopher's stone, the fountain of youth or the corpus Christi, has had people looking for it since the Middle Ages until today, for man holds onto the hope of finding it one day.
•o•
This is all your fault.
She wanted to kill him. Bash his brains against the wall. God, he was so stupid, so idealistic; she truly hated people like that.
Morgan moved towards her and she pressed herself against the wall, ready to attack. Her head was pounding so hard she was sure it would explode, but she couldn't let her guard down now, not with an idiot like him by her side.
"Carol…" Morgan started, putting a hand up and moving it towards her.
"No! I don't need your help!" She wished she had her knife, but that wolf had taken it along with Denise. Tara, Rosita and Eugene had gone outside, trying to look for her. They took sticks and kitchen knives as weapons and Carol was praying the wolf would be as stupid as he seemed, otherwise they'd be in big trouble.
"You don't need to trust me. I get it. But you need me to check your wound, Carol. Seriously."
"Stop trying to make things right after you just fucked them over again!" She spat, angrily. "This is all your fault! You realize that?! If you hadn't had him here…"
"If you hadn't come here…!" Morgan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Carol looked at him carefully, there had been something dangerous when he screamed at her: almost as if his façade had just slipped away to reveal a completely different man. "Let's make a truce. I don't wanna fight you right now. It ain't convenient."
They stood in silence for a long time.
"You're good at pretending too. Aren't you?" She muttered. Morgan's eyes were dark pools of tar when she met them.
"Carol, rest. You're really tired." She huffed at that.
"I'm fine." Morgan's muscles tensed and she sensed it before he moved, but was too slow to react and in a second the man had immobilized her on the ground. She kicked and tried to make him let go, but he kept her down.
"Will you kill me?" He asked.
"It's my best option." She answered.
"You don't have a knife anymore."
"Who says I need one?" He reached towards Denise's backpack, abandoned on the floor, and took out a clean rag and a bottle of alcohol. She couldn't evade his hand as it brushed her forehead, cleaning the blood off it. She felt dizzy, but her muscles were still ready to attack him as soon as he released her.
When he got off her he moved swiftly, pressing himself against the opposite wall, his stick on the way between him and her. She moved her hand towards the band-aid that was now covering her temple.
"Don't."
"What you gonna do? Give me another concussion?" He smiled at her and she pursed her lips, turning her gaze away.
"First time I saw you I knew you weren't what you pretended to be. This sweet household-mother act was a little too real for this world. Not even the women in Alexandria had it. They were all afraid, you weren't." She turned to him, indignant by his peaceful expression.
"Ain't you sweet?"
"Ain't you a wild thing?" He responded to her sarcasm inertly.
"You don't belong here. When this ends… if it ends… you're gonna leave this place. And if you ever come back, I will kill you."
"I wouldn't let you if you tried. But I get you."
Night went by quick and they remained in there, not knowing exactly what to do. It was when the flares started resonating in the distance that they knew they had to move out and help.
The horde was starting to go, drawn by the sound. Someone, probably Rick, was leading them away. The rejects from the crowd were still roaming, though, and still a lot.
"Time to start clearing." The man commented before they threw themselves into the horde and started hitting back and forth; covering themselves with the splashing thick blood of every walker they killed.
"To the armoury, Morgan!" She screamed at her companion, directing him. A rotten hand reached her shoulder and she turned around swiftly, hitting the walker with the shovel in her hand.
The horde closed around her and she screamed in frustration. From the corner of her eye she caught Morgan making his way towards her. She stabbed a walker in the head and pushed him away so that he would stumble against the others behind him. Why were they swarming around here?
As the walker fell on the floor she glimpsed it and her heart fell to her stomach. The half-eaten face on the ground still had one eye that seemed to watch her. His small hand held that of his half-eaten mother and she could see another body further ahead, holding his other hand. His brother.
Horror and shock numbed every muscle in her body, and the hand on her shoulder shook her back and forth as her mind kept repeating awful words in a chant.
You have to kill them; else you become one of them…
One night you're going to wake up, alone in the woods, tied to a tree…
And you'll scream for help, but help won't come. They will, the dead, and they'll rip you apart while you are still alive…
"Carol!" Morgan's scream pierced her ears and she felt herself pulled away from a figure trying to grasp her as Morgan hit it hard across the face before piercing its head with his stick. "Carol, come on! We gotta move! Carol!"
He shook her shoulder again and she turned to him.
"I'm fine… I'm fine…" I gotta be.
It all went fast after that; they reached the armoury and she was able to retrieve a rifle. Morgan by her side was eyeing her doubtfully, but she paid him no mind.
"Carol…"
Bang!
Alone in the woods.
"Carol!"
The monsters will come after you.
Bang!
Are they the monsters? Are we? Am I?
Bang!
The last walker fell on the floor and she darted towards the next street, but Morgan's grasp stopped her. His hand covered her face and she swatted it away, until she realized he was cleaning something.
Tears.
"Come on." He took her by the hand and she didn't know why, but it gave her comfort.
"That boy on the floor… the one you stopped by… you knew him?" The question had quite an obvious answer and she didn't want to give it right now, but she nodded all the same, clutching the cigarette in her fingers.
It was a nasty habit and she had quit so long ago, but the pain in her chest was too unbearable right now and she felt like nothing else would make her feel better.
This cigarette wouldn't either, but she wanted to watch it burn nonetheless. Consume it and convince herself that it was working on her.
"His name was Sam." She answered in a choked voice.
Sam, the little boy who'd followed her around asking for cookies the whole day. Sam, the little boy she had scared away, the little boy she had refused to take under her wing, for she was scared she would lose him like she lost Mika, Lizzie and Sophia. Sam, the little boy who died in the exact same way in which she told him he would.
"Look at me, Carol." His hand caressed her face again and she turned to him. His eyes were darker than usual; that meant danger, didn't it? Or maybe he was seeing something in her. He had been able to read her from the first, maybe he knew as well. She tried to pull away from his touch, but found she was unable to. She needed comfort from someone. "It's ok."
It wasn't. But she forced a smile at him and she could see him corresponding it. They were almost identical fake smiles.
You're good at keeping this act. As good as I am.
"I owe you." She truly did. She would've been killed ten times already if it hadn't been for him by her side. "I told you I would kill you. You should've left me to die." Morgan laughed at that as if it was a bad joke.
"All life is precious, Carol. Yours most of all."
Foolish man. But she liked him despite herself. Tyrese had been like this, Dale, Hershel… at a point also her. Innocent times; painful times; of good souls in a world that no longer wanted them.
They sat still on the porch, side by side, resting before they would have to continue working. Rick had survived and Carl had lost one eye, courtesy of Ron, but else he was fine. Denise had killed the Wolf with the help of Heath. Daryl, Sasha and Abraham had come back, though with really bad news, and Glenn and Enid were alive.
"What now?" Carol asked, uncertain.
"We're gonna tell Rick what happened with the Wolf. And I'll take my leave."
"Yeah."
"It was great meeting you, Carol Peletier." He said and she looked for hints of sarcasm in his voice but found none.
"If we ever meet again, I'll kick your ass."
"You'll try, I'm sure." Silence. "It was a mistake to keep him alive."
"Bingo."
"No. Not because we should keep on killing. Because I wanted to cure someone the way they cured me, but I started with the wrong subject." She rolled her eyes at that.
"You can't cure anyone, Morgan. That's not how it works in this world."
"I could cure you." She narrowed her eyes at him. "I know you're hurting. I could help you heal."
She laughed with mockery at that, but his eyes were dead serious. He was really considering it.
"I'm gonna let that pass, because you just saved my life. But if you think you can use me as your next do-it-yourself project, I'm gonna seriously kick your ass." He sighed, giving up.
"Fine."
In between all this grimness, his stubborn smile was still shining like a imprudent light in the darkness. And evil would be attracted to it like a cloud of moths suffocating a flame. It happened to the best of them; which was why they always died. Morgan would too, his light disappearing with a puff. But god, it was so comforting to see him shine for as long as he lasted. And she couldn't evade that yearning she felt for the foolish refuge that lay in hope.
She laid her head on his shoulder; it surprised him but he didn't move away. His closeness was like a painkiller to that excruciating contamination in her heart she had grown so used to; and for a millisecond she entertained the idea that maybe he could really heal her.
•o•
The Morgan Jones who met them at the Kingdom wasn't such a different man, but there was something more assuring in him. Perhaps it was not due to him directly, but to the respect he seemed to inspire in the people he'd surrounded himself with.
He was like a lone wolf who'd finally found his pack and proven himself as the alpha. There was something magnetic in that.
"So this is the one, Morgan!" Ezekiel squealed as he met her, squishing her in an embrace she twisted free from, throwing him a death-look. "Uh, careful, may scratch you! But I'm used to tigresses! It's charming!"
"What?!" Rick put a hand on her shoulder to calm her. Morgan was clearly embarrassed by the King's behaviour.
"I told him about you."
"What about me?"
"That you had promised to kill me if I went back to Alexandria."
"And the way you kicked the ass of the Wolves when they got into your community! Really wonderful!" Carol lifted an eyebrow at both men. This King was a basket case. He was the crazier, more flamboyant version of Morgan, though apparently very respected. There was something he must've done to earn that respect.
"He tamed a tigress."
"Like a real tigress?"
"Yep."
"Yeah, right."
"I know her, she's called Shiva. I can show her to you, but don't make her mad cause she'll jump you and tear your arm right off. I've seen her do it."
Carol gulped at Morgan's words. Yeah, she didn't want to meet the damned animal; had enough already with hordes of zombies trying to eat her alive.
"Oh, so she kills people as well. Didn't you try to 'cure her'?" Morgan didn't smile at her jab.
"You think I won Ezekiel's trust just because?" Carol turned to him, not understanding. His eyes were dark again, darker than ever. So, he killed someone; maybe more than one person.
"I'm gonna get even for that slap, gorgeous!" Ezekiel pointed at Michonne once they reached the training grounds. The woman was fuming with rage and ready to fight him. Carol didn't know what Ezekiel had whispered in her ear but it had certainly not amused her. However seeing the king get slapped so hard Negan must've heard it in the Sanctuary was fun.
Carol and Morgan had some unfinished business since the last time they'd met. Better solve them first.
"I promised I would kick your ass too." Carol remembered, dragging him away and preventing him from finding another sparring partner.
"Ain't you a wild thing?" Morgan mumbled. She paused and looked at him, not sure of whether his words had a double meaning.
Ezekiel and Michonne were already unsheathing their blades and she caught Daryl following her closely, Jesus by his side. He didn't seem too happy by the way she held onto Morgan's arm.
Oh, so now you notice me. She thought, irritated.
"I've gotten better with my knife." She commented and he smiled.
"You're still gonna attack first. And get tired quicker."
"We'll see."
"We'll see." Said and done, he redirected her to defeat. She almost had him a couple times, but he always managed to turn her aggressiveness to his advantage. The third time he threw her on the floor she couldn't take more.
"You're impatient, Carol, and brutal. It works to your advantage against people who only use brute force, but a trained fighter could get you in five minutes."
"There are no trained fighters in the apocalypse besides you." She retorted, cleaning the sweat off her forehead. A couple meters from where they were sparring, Michonne's sword went flying and Ezekiel grabbed her by the waist, pinning her violently against the floor. She watched, her mouth agape, as the samurai gave up. Jesus had subjugated Daryl five minutes ago. Were they really this shitty when it came to fighting?
"You have potential; all of you. But you are still rookies." The King retorted, swinging his blade in his hand and offering his other to the woman, who rejected it angrily. "Good news is, Negan's men are even worse, so it works. Just learn to think before you attack. Makes things easier."
Carol heard the common huff shared by the Alexandrians. The king was a little too presumptuous, but what he said was true. Training would have to become a priority from now on.
"Always a pleasure to fight you, Carol." Morgan said with a smile, taking his staff in his left hand and offering her his right hand so that she could stand up. Unlike Michonne, she accepted it. Her back ached, but she had gotten herself into this. Training with people from the Kingdom was harder than she'd expected. There were good soldiers among them. Perfectly fit for this next war. "I could teach you some moves. I doubt your strength is Aikido, but your knife-technique needs some polishing: More real fighting and less sneaking around. You can't always fool an enemy."
"It works with most." She rubbed her back with her hand.
"I'm gon' kill ya if ya hurt her, bastard!" Daryl screamed behind them as he noticed, clearly protective as shit.
"You can try, like this charming lady here." There was something in the way Morgan held her hand that made her eyes widen and cheeks grow hotter than they already were. Daryl noticed too, because his normally sullen expression changed to a murderous one and he took a few steps back, retiring to join Rick and Ezekiel on the other side of the field.
Morgan turned to her in confusion.
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, genuinely concerned. He didn't want to have bad blood with anyone from Rick's group; Carol could tell he had missed them.
"Ignore him." She answered, a little on edge.
Daryl was acting like a jerk since the day he ran into Morgan and Carol resting on the porch, her head on his shoulder. The woman couldn't say she was completely oblivious of what was really going on in the Dixon's head, but to be fair, it was stupid. If he really appreciated this, whatever it was, between them, he would've gone to her and asked what was going on. Maybe clear things between them as well.
But no: she kept on waiting and he kept on misunderstanding shit without ever daring to make a move. Frankly, she had enough already. He couldn't blame her for giving up on her chase; he wasn't the only one who had difficulties establishing relationships. Plus, there was absolutely nothing going on between her and Morgan. Right?
She couldn't say she was completely oblivious of that either: of the way her pulse seemed to rise every time she was close to the man. How his soft and yet authoritarian voice seemed to travel in waves through her body. He was a man who irradiated power; an alpha. Rick was also like that, although much more threatening and dangerous. Morgan didn't need that intimidation to assert himself as a dominant.
And she felt so attracted to that.
She honestly didn't know why she was so dumb. Men like Morgan were nice to meet when things went right, but completely obsolete when things went wrong and they got it inside their heads to follow their cheap philosophy.
And still, when he approached her that night before the council with Ezekiel, Paul and Rick started she couldn't help but fall straight into his playful flirtation game.
"Still mad I kicked your ass?"
"You didn't kick my ass."
"No, you're right. I just… redirected it."
"Ezekiel's arrogance is rubbing off on you? Your highness…" She let the word linger, mocking his new 'title'. "How'd you manage to convince him?"
"I didn't. He just… woke up one day and decided I should be his successor."
"Shouldn't his people decide that, not him?"
"It's based on the ancient roman system." He leaned on the railing and she leaned next to him, their elbows touching. She smiled at that, a rush of blood travelling straight to her head. God, she had missed flirting when it went back and forth mutually. "You see, the Romans… they elected a successor based on the decision of their Emperor."
"Huh."
"But if the people really had a big problem with me, they'd just have to say it, and we'd throw an election."
"Democracy."
"Rick was never chosen, though. He just took that place." Rightfully so, she thought. "So, you can't complain about this system, gorgeous."
She widened at that, but Morgan seemed completely fine with it. He means it.
"Gorgeous? That goes a little too far, your Highness."
"Well, I'm the heir to a Kingdom now, I can afford to go as far as I want to."
"You think?" The red went up to her face and he looked at her with a knowing smirk. He could see the effect he had on her. Goddamn.
"I think I could even command you if I wished to."
"And what would be your commandment to me?" his eyes travelled up and down her body, taking her in. He was observing, not just enjoying the sight: Analysing her. She wondered whether he was going to say something shameless; maybe then she would have an excuse to hit him.
"Keep on using tank-tops." Was his request. Not as shameless as she expected and it made her pout lightly.
"Even in winter, your Highness?"
He leaned closer to her and she felt herself leaning in too. His lips came very close to her ear.
"Your skin is hot enough to stand it, gorgeous." She chuckled at that, now that was shameless: her punch hit his arm and he drew away with a playful smile.
"Carol! Morgan!" Daryl's voice made his smile fall immediately, replaced by a sombre expression. He knows, she thought. "Ready fer the consul?"
"Yeah. Come on."
Morgan made his way inside and Carol followed him, but Daryl's hand on her arm stopped her. She winced at the strength of his grasp, looking at the man questionably.
"He actin' funny with ya?"
"No. Ezekiel's just rubbed off on him a little bit." She responded with a slight smile. It didn't seem to make things better.
"Yer flushed." Daryl observed. She moved her hand towards her cheeks.
"Really?" Yeah, they felt hot enough.
"Ya like him?" He asked. Oh, god, here he goes, she thought. "Carol, he's a jackass. Ya can do so much better."
Not so long ago his possessiveness would have made her happy; now, however, it angered her. It was as if he only dared to claim something the second he saw someone else take it, like a little child.
She wasn't one of his arrows he could throw away and fetch whenever he wanted to.
"Daryl, stop acting like a jealous teenager, he's a decent man."
"I ain' jealous!" She sighed at that.
"Good to know." She twisted her arm free from his grasp and moved forward. Behind her she heard him groan and follow her.
"I'm sorry, I just…"
"You just what?" She asked, clearly mad, stopping so that he would say whatever he needed to say to her face. He didn't. And she didn't expect him to. She knew him far too well. "That's what I thought. You know? I don't think you got a right to behave like this after all this time. I'm a grown ass woman and not your problem."
And I've waited for you long enough.
•o•
"You two had a fight?" He asked when she came to sit next to him instead of Daryl. She didn't respond and he nodded, silent. The reunion lasted two hours and it was already dark when they came out of it.
"You're staying with Ezekiel?" She asked for the sake of it.
"Yeah." She didn't know what else to say, so they just walked in silence. He must've sensed her sadness, because he sneaked an arm behind her and put it on her shoulder-blade, more in a comforting manner than a flirtatious one.
Memories of Daryl and her kept on plaguing her mind. She felt it was hopeless now to go back to his side and make things alright again; hopeful for them to change when they would just fall back into the everyday routine of 'will we or won't we?'.
She ended up in his house, sitting next to him on the couch, discussing life. He didn't wonder about Daryl, not once. There wasn't any foul intention behind his supporting company either. He just seemed to care an awful lot about her, that was all. She wondered whether it was because he had taken her as his wounded puppy. Last time he had tried as well.
"It's not that I'm broken, Morgan. There's no such a thing as broken in this world. There's either alive or dead and nothing more. The things we've endured made us this way for a reason."
He sighed, his fingers playing with a key ring.
"We're all a little broken inside. After the things we've lived we cannot hope not to be. Our broken bones start healing again, mending themselves in their crooked form because we never straightened them. We came to believe a twisted bone was what we needed, because the world bent it for us. But a twisted bone is still a twisted bone and it needs healing. It needs to straighten before it's too late. This world isn't what it used to be. But it's not over. You need to heal the right way."
"And you think you know the cure? The way to that healing?"
Silence.
"I know my way. I don't know yours. I can help you find it, though."
She hit his arm hard and he snickered at that.
"Ain't you sweet?" Her sarcasm went unheard by him, like always. He laid his head against the couch and closed his eyes. "You're sleepy?" She asked, wondering if she should leave. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it was certainly something.
"I'm just resting my eyes." He mocked, reminding her. She snickered.
"You can trust me."
"I trust you already." After a few moments of silence, her hands moved to snatch the key ring on his fingers. His hand closed around her fingers as soon as she tried to move it away. He was quick to react; quicker than her.
When he released her she took the key ring with her, looking at the rabbit's foot at its end.
"What is it?"
"A reminder."
"Of what?"
"That there's always something else to fight for. I was alone out there for very long. I needed it."
"You had a family once?" She remembered Rick mentioning it; Morgan nodded.
"A wife and a son: Jenny and Duane. They both turned." She gulped.
"I had a daughter." Her hand clutched the rabbit's foot. "Had a husband too, but he was an asshole. My Sophia, though… I still miss her."
"She turned?" She gulped and nodded, sad. "You killed her? When she did?" She shook her head.
"I was weak back then. Rick did it for me." Silence. "I'm not weak anymore; and maybe if I had been like this from the beginning, she'd still be here. All the children who died… even Lizzie." He didn't try to contradict her.
"Lizzie?" He asked after a second.
"A girl I used to protect."
"Like Sam?"
"More than Sam. I gave up on Sam because of what happened with her."
"What happened with her?" She never answered. He probably wanted to know the whole story, but didn't ask again. She was grateful for that; not only did she have to forget it, but she also knew that if she told it to him, she would disgust him. She had disgusted Daryl when he found out.
"I'm no longer fighting for myself, you know? I feel like I never was, I just knew I had to protect the ones I loved. I don't know if I were alone what would happen… I don't ever wanna know."
A treacherous tear escaped her eye and his hand shot up, always quicker than her, cleaning it. His thumb caressed her cheek and his index traced the line of her chin; she swallowed hard when he came closer.
"You're gorgeous, Carol." The whisper against her ear made goose bumps crawl down her spine. She swallowed hard as she felt his lips on the back of her neck. He's kissing me. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and leaned into his soft touch. It was so real and warm and she needed it. She'd yearned for a man's touch for far too long. Daryl always seemed too far to reach and Tyrese was snatched from her too soon. Morgan, however, was here.
But she didn't trust him. Not as far as she would throw him.
She opened her eyes and forced herself off the couch and away from him. Just as she was reaching for the door out of that house, she heard him sneak behind her and her hand flew to the knife on her hip. She turned around and pressed the blade flush against his throat as he came close to her.
"Don't you even dare. I'll slice your throat open." She whispered. He was close, so freaking close; his eyes were serene and she was running away like a scared pigeon.
"The door's open, Carol. I won't force you to anything." He answered. She took a deep breath, holding her ground. It was hard to resist being charmed by a man who called her gorgeous. How long had it been since she'd felt desired? Wanted? She was getting soft; Morgan was softening her, stupid man.
"I don't trust you."
"You don't trust anybody, I know. Maybe you should start." A man like him who could see right through her, who could tell when she was lying, was a potential enemy. If she gave herself away, if she fell for a man like this, she would become vulnerable. She couldn't let that happen. "It's ok, put that knife down. I won't hurt you. Say the word and I'll leave you alone. I promise." His fingers closed around hers, forcing the knife away from his neck. Inch by inch it descended. "That's it. Easy." His lips came closer, pressing against the corner of her mouth and she inched nearer, letting him kiss her. His fingers took hold of the knife and her hand flew around his neck, holding him in place. "You trust me?" His voice was soft; it turned her on. She swallowed hard. I don't, I shouldn't. I should push you away, leave. I should hate you. Her head nodded softly. "Say it. I trust you."
Her throat was dry and her lips were stinging with hunger.
"I trust you." She whispered. "I want you." His eyes opened, pupils dilated with lust. "Put your hands on me."
He kissed her hard, pressing his body against hers. His hands started roaming, shy at first but gradually bolder. Her tongue fought with his for dominance and he granted it to her, pacific as always. Still, she felt as if he was in control somehow and it made her all the more ferocious in an attempt to reclaim it from him.
As his back hit the wall violently he grunted and pulled away. She bit his lip hard, hurting him.
"Easy now, you wild thing." He whispered, amused, and she made a little guttural purr, like a tigress in heat. Taming her would be exciting; if he somehow managed to survive it. Ezekiel had his Shiva and he had Carol.
After his wife he'd only been with Michonne one time. It wasn't an experience he liked to remember; not because sex had been bad, but because it had been unfulfilled. Afterwards the feeling of guilt had broken him down. She hadn't looked for him again; maybe because she didn't need it, maybe because she felt like she had been used as a rebound; which he couldn't really deny. Michonne looked like his wife; she smelled and felt like her.
Carol was a different woman, though, and she needed him madly. The guilt wasn't there when he made love to her, what he beheld was even more devastating than his own petty insecurities: There were scars all over her body. Abusive scars. She'd told him her husband was an asshole, but he never imagined the level of harm she'd had to suffer by his side.
What kind of asshole would do that to his own wife?
He didn't have time for guilt then; he got too invested in appeasing her in the sweetest, most caring way possible, taking his time to touch, please and kiss every inch of her body. He wanted her to know just how beautiful she was, scars and all. He wanted her to not fear him. If she felt vulnerable she never showed it, but that was ok with him because in her eyes he could see her gratitude.
"Ain't you sweet?" He whispered against her ear once they were done. She snickered softly, but never answered and minutes after her soft breathing told him she was fast asleep. He watched her for a few moments, relaxed in his arms and gorgeous. He liked the contrast of their skins against each other as they shone with the faint moonlight glow.
I wish I knew how to save you.
She didn't need saving, he knew. She had her way and he had his, but they were so opposite, so fucking different… When the time came she would choose her way over him and he would do the same and they would collide again and again… until she destroyed him or he destroyed her or both ended up miles apart, hating each other with fervour.
The next morning came in quicker than he wished it to, and when he woke up, early like always, he found her still by his side, one pale arm lying over his stomach. He was surprised and glad at the same time: he had expected she would actually run away before he woke up. Though maybe she was too tired to wake up before him: seemed like she didn't sleep enough. He wondered whether she also dreamt of her child and her screams of help, if she cried in her sleep like he did sometimes. Maybe in a fictive world they might be able to hold and console each other every night their nightmares came, forming a shield against any unwanted memory of their past.
Well, shit; he was thinking like a silly lovebird. Was he really falling for her this fast? Sex and intimacy had the wonderful capacity sometimes of infatuating someone to the point where they made up their mind irrationally fast.
He subtly removed her hand from around him, placing a feather kiss on her knuckle before getting up and going outside to train with his staff. He needed to clear his mind quickly; get a good perspective of what was going on.
Half an hour later Ezekiel and his blade joined him outside the house.
"Sleep well?" He asked with a kind smile.
"Great."
"Great woman by your side?" How did he know? They had made sure to keep quiet last night. Then again, Ezekiel noticed everything.
"Decisions… they're a pain in the ass."
"To fuck or not to fuck, that's the question?" Morgan rolled his eyes at the man's jab.
"To save her or let her be. To try and change the people around me or just accept them and pretend I still have a philosophy."
"I never understood why you were so invested in changing people."
"Someone changed me. You're the one who says you will avoid and suppress any death or harm come to anyone if you can."
"Yeah, so?"
"If the people around you are so comfortable with killing they are bound to harm others more than necessary."
"And if you don't kill those who harm your own people you not only cause more death and harm to the ones you love but are indirectly guilty for it." Morgan swung his staff around angrily and Ezekiel sighed. "Tis not an easy question. Your sensei, Eastman, he never dealt with this kind of dilemma. He was alone; he could afford to be merciful. But in here, Morgan, we have a responsibility to protect people who cannot protect themselves. That means we have to be aggressive and rash towards threats. Otherwise, if we take chances, we risk too much."
His staff kissed the ground and Morgan turned to his King, his eyes down and a gentle smile on his lips.
"I convinced you to fight this war, didn't I? You were unsure about it at first, afraid it would sacrifice too many people. The least thing I want is a war, but it's necessary. I get it now. I will kill if I have to."
"I know. That's why you're my successor and not Richard. I think you've made your choice already. And her… women are a tangle, but she's already yours. You want to heal her? Go ahead. I don't think she needs it though."
"You don't know her like I do." Ezekiel smiled at that.
"I know she's still in there, I found her as I came down the stairs. Which means she's also made a decision."
"You think?" Ezekiel shook his head.
"Young love." He said as if he was a man of a hundred years who knew everything although he was just ten years older than Morgan. The man was used to his vanity, though. He understood why it was there. "Now all that's left to do is hold onto the choices you make. Don't change them. Protect; kill; do what you have to. It's been your decision and you have to live with it just like everyone else."
He left Ezekiel outside while he finished his training and cleaned the sweat off his face with his shirt. As he came in the smell of fresh coffee was lingering around the entire house. He smiled at that, memories of days before the outbreak coming back.
He found her in the kitchen, her back to him. She looked nothing like his wife, but he was just as happy to see her, wondering if this was just another dream and he would wake up alone in that dreadful town again, with no Carol or Eastman or Ezekiel ever having existed.
"Hey." She greeted without turning around. He leaned his staff against the wall and came up to her. "Coffee?"
"Thank you."
She poured the beverage in a cup and slid it towards him.
"Glad you haven't turned into one of those 'vegans'. Would make you more pretentious than you already are." She turned to him at last and it made him smile wide and stupidly. She giggled at his expression. "What's gotten into you this morning?"
He shrugged.
"It's a beautiful day… I've woken up with a gorgeous woman by my side and she's making coffee in the kitchen…" She turned away, clearly hiding her blush. "Ain't that wonderful?"
"Don't get so cosy with it. Everything can change in a minute." Her hands stopped whatever it was they were doing when his arms snuck around her, pulling her against him as he nudged his nose against the soft skin of her cheek. She let out a soft breath, relaxing in his embrace. "Last night meant nothing. But it has potential."
"I can work with potential." She turned in his arms, facing him, her hands sneaking under his shirt and touching his warm skin.
"Me too." His lips met hers and she responded softly, funny how her tameness seemed more dangerous than her fierceness sometimes. Last night she'd seemed to transform from a hungry tigress into a purring kitten; which might have meant he had tamed the shrew. Still, she had him rolling on the tip of her finger. If she pulled the knife from her pocket right now and sliced his throat open with it, he wouldn't even notice.
"Ahem…" Ezekiel's scoff for attention interrupted the perfect moment. Morgan turned to him angry, Carol in his arms turning redder than a streetlight.
"Ezekiel…" She said in the most casual way possible. "You want coffee?"
"Coffee's nice, thank you." He grabbed Morgan's cup without any ceremony and sipped on it. Carol turned to her boyfriend confused, but he was so used to the King eating and drinking his food he didn't even flinch. "Please, I don't wanna interrupt, continue snugging all you want." Ezekiel said, waving his hand at them.
"Don't pay him mind..." He whispered against her ear. The man had a bold sense of humour and a tendency to enjoy making his friends uncomfortable. Carol was giving him exactly what he wanted with her ashamed blush and her attempts to wrench free from Morgan's grasp.
"Did you sleep well?" She asked, evading Morgan's lips again. She didn't like to be kissed in front of people, he realized.
"Not as well as you two." Ezekiel snickered. The murderous look they both threw him was enough to make him turn a little bit serious. "Yes, I slept well, thank you. Shiva also behaved nicely last night… though, she shit all over the bathtub."
"Are you serious?!" Morgan shouted, letting go of Carol.
"Yeah. You're cleaning it."
"Why me?"
The doorbell ringing interrupted the banter.
"I'll get it." Ezekiel hurried towards it with Morgan's coffee still in his hand, leaving them both in the kitchen.
Carol turned to Morgan with a pompous smile.
"Cleaning tiger's poop… must be nice to be a prince." She mocked him. He grabbed her by the hip and kissed her hard.
"Quiet, wild thing."
"Yes, your Highness."
The King came back with Richard by his side.
"Guys, it's show-time."
•o•
The moment Richard was shot in the head was the moment Ezekiel froze. Morgan watched his friend fall back on the ground and he immediately saw red.
I'm sorry, Eastman.
This was a war and in war you had to either kill or die. He grabbed Richard's fallen gun and fired at the Savior who had killed his friend. Ezekiel was still frozen in place and Morgan dragged him out of the burning bus before its tank exploded.
The real threat, though, was waiting on the other side: a big group of walkers closing in around them, drawn by the sound of the crash and the gunshots.
The first walker bit the king in the arm; the second on the leg, tearing from its flesh, and then the horde just fell on him, gnawing on his chest. Morgan screamed and killed them all, somehow managing to get the man out of there. As they limped away, the horde still following them, a shadow of orange and black jumped in front of them: Shiva, throwing herself as a shield between her master and the creatures trying to reach it.
"Baby girl!" Ezekiel shouted as he saw the last bloody vestige of the tigress's fur disappear under thousands of hands. They made their way out of the trench as fast as they could, but Ezekiel was terribly wounded and losing a lot of blood. "Leave me, Morgan." He begged.
"No!" his friend mumbled stubbornly. "We're gonna make it, your Majesty, don't give up on me!"
The king tripped and fell on the hard ground, breathing heavily. There was blood oozing from the five bites in his body, he wasn't going to make it to the Hilltop and they both knew it.
"This place is a graveyard… this war is lost…"
"Ezekiel…" the man extended his hand and Morgan took it.
"Listen… Shiva and my people, they're the only things I ever had. The only ones I cared about…" He swallowed the blood in his mouth. "I don't want any more of them to die. Take them back, Morgan, promise me…" The man heaved at that. Take them back and let Negan win this war so that the Hilltop and Alexandria would continue to be slaves? So that Negan would come to the Kingdom and enslave them too?
Ezekiel's eyes were pleading, though.
"I won't let them die…" Morgan said. "I promise, my king." The man nodded and swallowed one last time, and then his chest stopped heaving and his eyes grew glassed. "Ezekiel?" Morgan put a hand near his nose and on his neck. He wasn't breathing; his pulse had stopped. He was dead. "Oh god, no!"
He cried: cried for the King, cried for Richard, cried for Shiva being devoured by walkers, cried for all the people who had died in this attack.
He stabbed Ezekiel's head with his own blade and made his way back to the Hilltop as best he could. He didn't know how long it took him, but once the gates opened for him and he was back in the safety of the colony he saw his people swarming around, worried about why he'd taken so long and wondering what had happened to Ezekiel. His answer needed no words; he was carrying the dead king's blade for a reason. After the first shock was gone, though, his men immediately accepted Morgan's new rank. There was no time for doubt at this moment.
They were all scared; had witnessed bigger horrors than they were used to. These were good men, but certainly unaccustomed to fight other men with gun-power and strategy and what not. To suffer such great losses was a hard punch in the gut and Morgan realized the majority of them would die if they stayed here and endured another battle.
"Your majesty…" One of the men, Hugh, approached him, bowing lightly, and Morgan winced at that. It was the third time he saw someone bow to him, as if he was someone to be worshipped; Ezekiel may have liked this whole monarchy nonsense but to him it was just unnerving.
"Don't call me that." He commanded. The man gulped and nodded.
"Rick demands to see you, in private. But I can offer to escort you for your personal safety."
"Why would you do that?"
"With all due respect; I know he's your friend, but neither of us trusts him. Or his people."
Wouldn't be a big surprise, Morgan thought.
"You do well." He said. "But I can take care of myself."
"Sir…"
"It's ok. Thank you." He put a hand on the man's shoulder before going off to find Rick.
As he said, he expected to talk to him alone. There was no Paul and no Daryl in sight, not even Michonne coming with him. Rick's eyes were dark, doubting. He knows, Morgan thought. He didn't greet him, just stood there waiting for him to talk. The sheriff cleared his throat.
"You're the one in charge now, Morgan. I know you're grieving, but we need to prepare our next attack. We cannot give up now."
Morgan tapped his staff on the ground, looking hard into Rick's eyes. There was danger in the atmosphere; disguised as friendship. The sheriff's hand was dangerously close to his gun and Morgan knew what that meant. You do it my way or you die, Morgan, he was telling him.
Such a good friend you are, Rick.
"How many more need to die before we win, Rick? Is that what you want? Winning?" Rick tilted his head.
"Negan is a threat, Morgan. He'll kill more people if we don't do something about it!"
"And you aren't? You think you're different than him? When you shot that man in the head cause you wanted to sleep with his wife?"
Maybe it had been a mistake to go that far, but Morgan couldn't take it anymore.
"He was beating her!" Rick snapped.
"And you killed Negan's men, he was just retaliating…"
"How can you say that?!"
"How can I?! Cause it's true! Cause you know neither of you two is right! Cause you're a hypocrite if you say you're better than him!"
"Morgan…"
"Ezekiel gave me one last order, Rick. I'll obey his last wish. I'm taking my people back, just like you took your people further away when you left me and my son alone, there's nothing you can do about it."
"You think not?!"
Just like he suspected, Rick's gun was aimed at his head in a millisecond. My way or die. The man looked at him and burst into laughter.
"Go ahead. Pop that cap in my head, take the Kingdom, force my people to kill each other for your petty revenge. Be the monster you actually are, Rick. No point in pretending you're a good man anymore." Rick swallowed.
"I saved you, Morgan. You attacked me and I didn't kill you. I gave you a place among my family, I gave you weapons…"
"I saved you first. I forgave you for having abandoned Duane and me. I convinced Ezekiel to fight this war for you. And now he's dead and his people will die one by one because I was your good ole friend." Pause. "I don't owe you anything. Not a single fucking thing. So don't pretend you're justified by aiming that gun at my head, cause you are not." Rick swallowed hard. "Go ahead, kill me! Don't chicken out now! You made your decision, live with it!"
Ezekiel's words left a foul taste in his mouth as he spit them at Rick. He saw the sheriff in front of him lower his gun and look down. No, you won't kill me. You don't have the guts. I would've, though, back then. Maybe I should've.
He retired.
When he made it back to the house he had shared with Ezekiel, she was there, sitting on the porch, cleaning her knife hard like a nervous tick. She was covered in blood, whether it was walker or human, he didn't dare to wonder.
His wild tigress; he would lose her too. After he told her he was going to leave she would forever hate him. She stood up and ran to him, hugging him.
"I thought you were dead." She said in a scolding manner. "I was about to go out there and cut the son of a bitch who killed you into tiny pieces!"
"I'm alive, Ezekiel's not." She swallowed as he sat down on the porch, silent. His hand still held hers and he pressed it to his forehead. "He was my friend. He wasn't supposed to be there. He should've known…"
"Morgan…" He broke down.
"I never asked him to!" He screamed and the woman sat next to him, confused.
"To what?"
"To sacrifice himself for me! I never asked for anyone to die for me! Not my son, not Eastman, not Ezekiel or Richard! No one! They weren't supposed to be there! I was!"
"Hush, it's ok. Look at me." She took his face in between her hands and kissed his cheek. "These things happen."
"No. No, no, they don't just happen; they are my fault, Carol!" He shook free from her hands. He couldn't stand her touch right now. The cards would turn around so quickly and then he would be left with nothing but more pain and disdain when she left him for good. "He said it was my people now, he expected me to take care of them. But I cannot, I can't see my people die because I ask them to…"
"What does that mean?" He stood up and walked off the porch.
"It means we are done here." It took a while for his words to sink into her, but when they did he could sense her rage explode like an atomic bomb. She came forward, her fists tight, and swung a punch against his chest. It hurt, but he relished in that pain. He preferred it to the despair he felt right now.
"You're talking like a pussy!" She screamed. "Women and children from the Kingdom depend on you now, Morgan! Are you listening to me?!" She took his face in her hands hard, almost scratching it, and he closed his fingers around her wrists tight, pushing her away brusquely.
"What do you want, Carol?! You want me to lead what's left of my people to die?! I made a promise to Ezekiel, before he died! I promised him I would keep them alive! He said we'd lost, he said we should surrender! It's what…" She slapped him.
"You think if Negan wins against us he will let you be?! You're part of this war now, which means you're a threat for him! You cowardly asshole…" Even now he could see the pain in her eyes as she uttered those words: she didn't hate him, he had just hurt her and she was retaliating. It would've been easier if she had hated him. "You weren't fine watching Ezekiel and Richard die… but you're fine watching us die? Tell me you are and I will call you a liar! I know you!"
Morgan swallowed. No, he wasn't fine watching her die. Not her. Not another woman he so hopelessly loved.
"I won't let them kill you. Not you." He moved towards her, but she jumped away, hissing like a wounded cat.
"You know I won't die! Cause I'm not weak, and neither are you, that's the hard part!"
"I wasn't supposed to…"
"Stop saying that!"
"I'm sorry, wild thing."
He reached for her and she couldn't escape his grasp as he pressed his lips against hers, immobilizing her hands behind her back. She bit him so he would let go, but he was too used to her aggressiveness already. Her second bite, though, was a lot harder and it made him let go with a grunt of pain. His lip was now bleeding profusely. She could've ripped half of it off. Holy shit, tigress, you went too far. It was the stupidest thing to think. She clearly didn't want to kiss him at this moment and he had forced her to. Her reaction had been completely justified… or as justified as Carol Peletier ever got.
"Fuck you, Morgan! You came to Alexandria, acting like you knew everything about this fucking world! It's time you own up to that! You don't wanna be weak anymore? Stop running then! Do what you have to do or fucking die! Give me the heads-up and I'll kill you myself!"
Her words were knives.
Of course you'd do it yourself. You're no different than Rick.
Maybe all of them had a point. They could all kill and watch others die, watch their loved ones die, and not bat an eye. They were the strong people, he was weak. He had always been weak: the weak man who inherited the world.
"Morgan?!" He heard her scream his name as he walked away, sucking on his lip to stop its bleeding. She sounded hurt.
The rifle in his hand felt alien and the feeling of internal rage wasn't something he had missed when he came out of the Hilltop, ready to clear, to remember what it was like when he was dead, for dying was the only way to survive in this new world.
We held onto hope, Eastman, you and me. We held onto peace in a world where peace doesn't exist anymore.
Bang!
We held onto tired values, we held onto what we thought was the cure to our pain.
Bang!
You held onto everything you believed. Thank god you died, Eastman. Thank god you didn't have to see this.
Bang!
"Morgan!"
For this world is nothing but chaos. This world is sicker than you think. Humanity is sicker than you think. And there's no cure, there's no room for peace. We held onto hope, but hope is the real sickness.
"Morgan!"
Bang!
We are all dead inside. We have to be.
The last walker fell to the ground and he took a step further into the wilderness, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned around, swinging his rifle at the new attacker. Carol evaded it quick and swung his staff in her hand, preventing him from pointing it at her. He put it down. She jumped back, the staff pointing at him.
"I thought you were one of them…" Morgan saw the shadow move behind her. "Carol!" She turned around swiftly and hit the walker across the head, crushing its head against a tree. "That's my girl."
She turned around and he demanded his staff back. She gave it to him and he offered her the rifle.
"I didn't mean what I said about you dying. I could never…" She stopped.
"Don't lie." She threw herself at him, her arms closing around his waist and neck, her head against his chest, sobbing. "I cleared. I still know how." He swallowed. What it was that pained her he didn't know, but he stood still letting her cry it out.
"I shot Lizzie in the head while she was still alive because she had killed her sister." She mumbled. Lizzie, the little girl she had told him about. His heart shrunk inside his ribcage. "She was sick, she didn't have to die. But I saw no other choice. I wanted to save Judith. I stabbed a man and a woman in the head because they were infected with a deadly virus. I had to stop the disease from spreading inside the community. It spread anyways." She swallowed hard and looked into his shocked eyes. "It hurt so much at first… but then… it became so normal… so easy… like cutting butter… when I stabbed that dying woman, back in Alexandria I felt nothing. Nothing at all."
"Carol…" His hand rocked her against his chest.
"I was a good person, Morgan… and then I just kept on falling down, into darker and darker pits until I couldn't come back up."
"I know." She caressed his head.
"This world is broken and it breaks us back and forth; but we've inherited it. I don't want to die like this: twisted. I need to straighten and I need to heal, but we have to first get rid of the sickness, Morgan. We have to fight it: I don't want you to clear; I want you to fight. We do what we have to and then we get to live. You understand?" She kissed him, but he couldn't correspond her. Thousands of questions still plagued his mind, thousands of doubts. We do what we have to… and then what? How can we come back to what we were before? How can we heal when we're so broken we don't even realize it? How can I save you, Carol, if I can't even save myself? "There now. Do you trust me?" She asked against his lips.
He took her face between his hands, looking straight into her clear eyes. His gorgeous tigress, she was here already. She had made a decision and so had he. It was time for him to keep his word.
"I trust you." She swallowed. "I love you, wild thing."
She kissed him again, hard, and climbed him up with a clear intention of having him right there and then. Smiling at her eagerness, he managed to convince her to go back. They would attract walkers if they stayed there.
It was past midnight when he finished with her, and she was so exhausted she could hardly breathe. Rightfully so, she had worn him out as well.
"Ain't you a wild thing?" She whispered as she propped herself on his chest, pinning his hands on each side of his head. He let out an extenuated laugh, but didn't answer. "I feel so alive when I'm with you…" He opened his eyes and looked at her.
"You do?" She smiled and nodded.
"Yeah. Like I'm a better woman." Her lips graced his collarbone so softly he could hardly tell they were there. "Don't know how you managed to; don't know if it was your goal. But I think… deep inside… that you've saved me." Her words sunk into him like a bullet in tender flesh, breaking through his hardest fears and doubts. He widened, his eyes set on hers, and she smiled at his expression. "So… it might as well be that I'm your Pandora and you're my Panacea; and we've both managed to compliment each other."
He never answered to that, but she wasn't expecting him to. She let go of his hands and snuggled against his chest, ready to sleep. He lulled himself to the soft sound of her breathing. The moonlight accentuated the contrast of both their skins, making his seem darker and hers seem lighter: black and white, ying and yang, equilibrium.
Maybe the answer lay there as well: in the equilibrium of peace and war, of order and entropy, of life and death.
The morning found him restless still, and when he got up to train his weary muscles and exited the house, staff in hand, he found Rick and Daryl head towards his home. Rick stopped as he saw him, and after exchanging a few words with his second in command, let Daryl approach him alone instead. Morgan stood his ground as the man came forward.
"We ain' comin' fer ya. I wan' Carol ta be ready in three hours, we're preparing another attack."
"My people is ready as well."
"We ain' need ya." Morgan smiled at the man's hostility. Yes, this time it was justified, he had made a mistake.
"Yes you do. Tell your leader I'll fight. My people will fight." Daryl turned around and called Rick. The man reluctantly came forward, his hand close to his gun. Morgan eyed it as he neared, and Rick noticed what he was doing, moving the hand away.
We'll need to work on your paranoia, Rick. But that can wait until after the war. There will be an after.
"What is it?"
"The jackass king here says he's gon' fight aswell." Rick looked at Morgan.
"I thought you had made up your mind already."
"Some tigress made me change it."
"Hey, watch yer mouth, asshole!" Daryl spit; enraged by the way he had referred to Carol. Morgan bowed, apologetic.
"I'm sorry. Ezekiel rubbed off on me a bit." Rick ignored Daryl's jealousy, his cold eyes analyzing Morgan.
"Why?" The man tapped his staff on the floor, his smile broad on his face.
"Why? Because all life is precious, Rick." Daryl looked at him from the corner of his eye and Rick tilted his head, expecting a bigger explanation. "Yours, Carol's, your children's, our people's… I'm here to protect life."
The silence lingered as Rick and Daryl assimilated his words. They didn't understand them yet, that was ok, they would. They still had to learn and so did he. The journey never ended.
"We'll be ready in two hours." Rick said as he took a step back. Daryl didn't follow his leader as he made his way back. He stood there, looking at Morgan, who resumed his training.
"I ain' know what she saw in you." Morgan took a deep breath and looked at him. "But it must've been sumthin' good."
"You love her." Morgan asserted. Daryl gulped at that; he's not sure, not ready. He will be. The notion of him taking Carol away made him angry. He took his staff with both hands and swung it with so much force his muscles complained about it.
"I can't save her. I failed more than once. I was so afraid of hurtin' her further I let her slip through my fingers… but it was the best fer her. She got a good man now, one who can help her heal." He swung his crossbow on his left shoulder and turned his back to him.
"You kept her alive, Daryl. You are the one who truly saved her." The man looked at Morgan, who gave him a smile. "Who knows, if I die, if she dumps me… I would want a man like you by her side then. Just not now, she's my tigress still."
"Watch it."
"I will." Daryl gave him a mocking smile.
"An' if she ever calls ya pookie I'll kill ya. I'm her pookie."
"Fair enough." As the man turned to leave Morgan snickered, amused. "What kind of sorry ass name is pookie anyways?!" He screamed at the archer's back.
As he came back into the bedroom Carol was hidden under the blankets. He pushed them away and she moaned in complaint, pulling them back up her head. He snickered and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, pulling them back down just a little, so he would get access to her pretty face.
"Rick's planning an attack. One more hour of sleep and then you're up. Ok?" He told her. She nodded and accommodated herself better. He stroked her head softly, kissing her temple. "You're lovely when you sleep. Peaceful at last; I like that." He whispered very, very quietly. "I'm better now. I've been in my own head, full of myself, full of shit, for a little bit. Still I want you to know that's over. I get it now: I can fight, I have to fight. My people depend on me. I don't want anyone to suffer the kind of loss I have. That's worth fighting for... What you've seen the last few days, that's not me. Not really. I don't even know how you put up with me. You're strong... Stronger than I could ever be. I don't want you to lose respect for me because I was weak. I'll do better today... When you're fully awake." A smile grazed her features at his words and it made him incredibly happy to see it. Softly, she moved till her back was lying on the bed, her eyes half open and still sleepy. "Do you trust me?" He asked her.
"I trust you."
"Do you love me?"
"... I love you."
FIN
Queen of Peace - Florence & the Machine