It's

For

You.

Rick gritted his teeth and pushed the couch back a few inches as Carl untied and unwound the cord. The door let out a soft squeal as it floated open. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The white grip of her sword jutted above her right shoulder like a bloom through a crack in the pavement.

"You got any more puddin'?" Michonne said as she stood square in the doorway.

"No. You got my comic books?" Carl gave his smile a little more freedom than Michonne gave hers. Just a little.

"No." she said, and took a step towards the door.

"Then there's no room for you here."

"Is that right?"

"That's right," he said. The two stared hard at each other.

"C'mon, let's get this door closed." Rick said.

Carl stepped aside to let her through, laughing weakly.

Carl wrapped and knotted the cord as Rick began to push the couch back in place. Michonne gave him a side glance and a nod before taking over the task.

Rick sucked a breath through his teeth as he lowered onto the couch. He fell the last few inches.

"You hungry?" Carl asked "I got some food from the house down the street."

Michonne shot a look to his feet, "Is that where you lost your shoes?"

"Yeah, but it didn't get me. How do you know I lost my shoe?"

"The tread is different than the one I tracked." She pointed to the shoes he wore now.

"One set of smooth. One smaller set of heavy."

Carl tried not to look impressed. "So…you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah." She said as she took in her surroundings. The walls were bright white. They didn't know how dirty it was beyond them.

"I don't suppose you" Rick pulled in a rattling breath. "found any signs of the others?"

"No." she said. "Any medical supplies in the house that can help you with all that?"

His eye was still swollen. The makeshift tourniquet from his sleeve had soaked through and the cut on his nose oozed blood and fluid.

"Just a few Band-Aids. How'd you find us? There's no tracks on the street"

"A bit of luck and a big ol' empty can of chocolate pudding. Came to the porch and saw you through the curtains."

"Yeah, we should cover the windows better."

Carl handed her a can with a spoon sticking out of it and a bottle of water crinkled around the base. Michonne shoveled hearty bites.

"The walkers aren't too bad around here for now. Just a few so far. It's safe enough while dad recovers."

"That sounds like a good plan."

"You gonna stay with us?"

Michonne stopped mid bite. Her eyes fixed on Rick. Carl followed the line of her sight to the couch where his dad was slumped over. His breathing graveled but strong. Michonne assisted Carl in getting Rick into a more suitable sleeping position. She looked over him then out of the corner of her eye at Carl.

"Let's go get your shoe."

Carl nodded and adjusted his hat.

"That one." Carl pointed to the window on the second floor of the white house.

"That the only one?"

"Pretty sure."

Michonne lead the way up the stairs. She stood on one side of the door, Carl on the other. Michonne readied her sword. Looking at Carl she motioned for him to step back, and after a silent protest he conceded. The gargled rasping grew louder-scratching and banging against the opposite side of the door. Michonne turned the handle. The Walker burst from the room clacking teeth and dripping maggots as it lunged clumsily for Carl. The sword whipped the air and cracked through the middle of the Walker's skull. It fell to the ground, bones cracking as it hit knees and rotting face on the hard floor.

His shoe obtained, the two searched through the house for supplies, staying with-in earshot of each other. Michonne focused on bathroom cabinets above and below the sinks, linen closets and vanity drawers. Body wax, cheap razors with speckles of rust on the blade, hair-ties, powder brushes, make-up and all sorts of crap that didn't matter anymore. On the back of a door hung a large pink bag with purple flowers in a dizzy pattern. She grabbed it, slung it across the shoulder opposite her Katana and headed for the next room.

"Just some towels and shirts. Nice purse." said Carl. Michonne turned away without a word.

Carl showed her into the Kitchen "I just went through the cabinets. Haven't been to the pantry yet."

"I'll start there." She said. Carl grabbed the stuff he couldn't carry on his first trip.

Michonne listened at the pantry door. Silence. She dropped her hand from the grip of her sword. Two Walkers with long greasy strings of hair and floral aprons spilled out of the pantry. Jaws unhinged and sharp fingers clawing at her she fell to the ground. Reaching for her weapon, kicking at the putrid, decaying creatures.

Carl grabbed a black skillet from the dangling pot rack, jumped down, and with a strong swing hit one in the face knocking it to the floor. The other walker scrambled toward him and with another swing of the skillet the jaw of the walker hung from bloody threads of muscle, and with another upward swing split its head from palette through frontal lobe. Michonne had just finished a diagonal slice through the sister Walker's head.

Everything in the pantry had a white label with black block letters. The corners curling away from where they had been tapped. One tall cabinet had no label. A breath of relief left her lungs. Tossing the bottles of peroxide, alcohol, cloth tape, rolls of gauze, tubes of antibiotic cream, and half-full bottles of aspirin and sinus meds.

"Let's go." She said.

Carl hurried to put the last few things he could fit into the cloth bag. He had to run a few paces to catch up to Michonne.

Black smoke rolled like evil clouds from the grey block towers. The pop of gun fire and chorus of screams played far in the distance. Rick stood as if his boots were made of lead. Shane charged toward him with a gun in one hand and an empty pink baby carrier in the other.

"I knew it! I was right! Me, I told you. You remember? Huh?" Shane shouted at him. Walkers wandered in all directions in the background.

Rick tried to move his feet, tried to charge back but his legs refused to pull his feet off the ground.

"I knew you couldn't keep 'em safe. You never could and now look. You can't keep anybody safe. Look at you!"

"I did my best." Rick choked out the words.

A crowd gathered behind Shane. Daryl with milky film over his eyes and slacked jaw. Beth walked with her arms loosely swinging at her sides as her feet shuffled and scraped across the ground. Maggie's eyes glazed as a gargled growl rattled her in throat.

"And look at your best Rick. Where's your wife? Where's your daughter? Where is everybody? I could have kept 'em safe, Rick. At my worst I could do better than your best. Too bad you killed me too." Shane dropped the bloody carrier at Rick's feet.

Rick was still out cold. Carl slept with his hat next to him. Michonne sat with her back against an overturned piece of furniture. Forearms resting on her knees, her eyes set on the floor in front of her as her thoughts drifted.

Rick jolted and pulled in a desperate breath. He lay for a moment panting.

"That bag doesn't match your shoes." Rick's voice, deep and low from so much sleep broke her busy thoughts. Rick rubbed his face with his hands and wiped his swollen eye gingerly.

"You don't sleep?"

"No with you twitching about and making all that noise." She said.

Rick looked over at a sleeping Carl with a thought that made him drop his head.

"You can push it away all day long." She said.

Rick lifted his head to look at her.

"There's so much to surviving that you can think on it all the hours you're awake, but when you sleep, that's when they get you isn't it? I have a few haunting me."

Rick replied "Everyone's haunting me."