His Key
His greatest fear had always been losing the people he loved. In the new world, this quickly manifested into the fear of losing control, because in a world where the law had been reduced to a fairy tale, he needed to be able to protect his family.
Of course, when the dead outnumbered the living, control was just an illusion, a temporary fixture of security against the inevitable pervasion of decay. Survival had become an unsustainable symbiosis of lives of the strong over the deaths of the weak, accelerated by the consequences of their moral decrepitude. This played on the back of Rick's mind every day, and it was why he strove to be in control.
He could not be reassured by the sight of his children sleeping peacefully within their home in Alexandria unless he was in control, and it was this that was so rapidly taken from him, from them, by the lascivious rictus of a bat wielding psychopath.
Who was he, if he could no longer be in control? Who was Rick Grimes, if he could no longer protect his family? Negan had not only so brutally taken Glenn and Abraham, he had also taken away everything that he was and everything that he had become in the new world.
And now, unfettered by the illusion of control and power, his primary fear reigned supreme, and he would do anything to feed it, including genuflecting at the feet of the man who threatened his family. His son could no longer look at him because of it, and Rick scavenged for comfort in this because it meant he could avoid the disappointment in his eyes.
"See you in a few days," was all Carl said, his back to his father as he purposefully threw darts at the wall. For a brief moment Rick's eyes lingered at the holes his son had made on the wall. All of his darts had missed the target, and for a brief moment he questioned his own trajectory. But fear very rapidly ensured the brevity of his doubt, and he simply sighed.
"He'll come around," Aaron said, as they left the room.
Rick simply shrugged, crestfallen. The abrasion of his confidence continued, even despite the temporary absence of Negan's presence within Alexandria's walls. Leaving Aaron to proceed down the stairs, he turned around to face Michonne, who had followed close behind.
Looking at her was the hardest, because feelings of worthlessness overcame him every time he did. Only a few days prior they had been wrapped in the bliss of each other's arms, savouring the fruits of their exploits. He had been happy, confident and in control, he had had been Rick Grimes.
He had submitted to Negan so that he would not lose her, yet he struggled to look at her, afraid that she would see the coward that he felt he'd become. Like Carl, she had decided to stay, and like Carl, her decision to remain tightened his heart. He only planned to be away for a few days, but it would be the most amount of time they would be away from each other since the fall of the prison.
But he understood.
"What kind of a life?!" She had protested only yesterday, and he'd understood, because he knew better than anyone that they did not have to be dead in order to decay.
He reached into his bag for a walkie-talkie. "If you change your mind…we're headed north," he said, as he handed it to her.
"Good luck," She responded, and he understood it as a circumvention of her unwillingness to accompany him.
He nodded, unable to hide his disappointment, and his eyes fell to the ground between them. Defeated, all he could do was lean in to kiss her cheek goodbye.
But she stopped him.
And time suddenly stopped when she placed a firm but gentle hand against his face. He looked at her, shocked at her touch. She looked directly into his eyes, and it was in that moment he simply became a passenger in his own body, deliquescing beneath her lambent gaze.
He felt her guide his face towards hers, and his eyes inadvertently closed just before her lips met his. His hand reached down over her waist, pulling her closer to him as he deepened the kiss. He felt himself descending into her with each caress of her warm, soft mouth over his, no longer aware of where he ended and where she began. A familiar carnal call awakened deep inside of him, and he let his lips leave hers before he became too far gone.
He held onto her as their lips pulled apart, opening his eyes to find hers staring into his. He became lost in the purity of their love, something in his core shifting at the sudden curtailment of his fear. Her love had superseded his uncertainty, and from that moment on he knew the attrition of his confidence would end that day.
He felt so naked and exposed as she stared not at him but into him, yet it was not shame he felt but an amalgamation of faith, assurance and love.
And desire…
I'm still with you, she told him with her eyes, and it was all he needed to know, because he did not need to be in control to be fearless, he did not need the world to tell him that he was Rick Grimes.
There was no longer much he knew anymore, but he knew in that moment that it was going to be okay. He was going to be okay, because everything he needed was still there, inside those walls. He was going to be okay, because her lips had once again found his; a matrimony of comfort, desire and love.
He let his forehead rest against hers, deeply moved by the swell of emotions prompted by such a simple touch. Whether it prompted the incipience of his path to victory was too early to say, but for the first time since that fateful day, hope had conquered fear. Although it did not diminish his feelings of unworthiness, he thanked her, because she had reminded him of who he was in her eyes…who he still was.
"Thank you…"
Those simple words felt insufficient to express the gratitude that threatened to bring tears to his eyes, but it was all he could utter.
It was going to be okay.
He did not know when, or how, but he knew why.
Michonne.
His love, his light, his peace, his everything.
His key.
