This is a mini-fic of important moments that happened in Michonne's life after Rick disappeared, and how the Grimes family learned to go on without their husband/father.
It was one minute after the bridge.
She was still screaming. She couldn't stop. She couldn't do anything else. She wanted to run. She had to find him, but Maggie and Carol were holding her back. There was fire everywhere. It was so hot. She could feel the fire burning her face, her arms. Carol was trying to drag her backwards by her elbows, but Michonne couldn't leave. She couldn't. She screamed louder, kicking, crying, fighting to be free.
"Michonne. Michonne I'm so sorry," Maggie whispered in her ear. "We have to move back, it's too dangerous here."
"Please," she moaned, begging Rick to come back. "Please no."
"Michonne, you have to move back," Carol said, rubbing her back while simultaneously keeping her elbow in a strong grip. Michonne struggled against her hold, unable to tear her eyes away from the fireball consuming the bridge Rick had worked so hard to visualize.
He had to be alive. He had to. Maybe he's in the water. Maybe he fell.
"Let go!" Michonne screamed, fighting harder now. "I have to see. Please let me see," she begged.
"He's gone Michonne," Maggie said, still in shock herself. "You can't go over there. That bridge is on fire."
"Nooo," Michonne groaned, falling backwards onto her behind, the word seemingly sapping her energy. She couldn't accept this. This wasn't his ending. Rick deserved so much more than this. "I have to find him. I have to find him."
"I'm so sorry," Carol whispered, "I'm sorry but he's gone. You can't go with him. You have to go home to your little girl. You have to come home to her."
Michonne's groan turned into heart wrenching sobs, and Maggie held her head to her chest.
"C'mon. C'mon," Maggie whispered.
Michonne couldn't fight anymore. She allowed Carol and Maggie to take her away from the fire. They were supporting most of her weight, and her feet lightly skimmed the leaves as they dragged her away.
It was one hour after the bridge.
She was sitting on her horse, unsure how she'd gotten there. They were searching for Rick's body. She'd demanded they did, or she'd do it herself. The bridge was still on fire. She wasn't close enough to see it, but the smoke and ash filled the forest, and coated the trees with soot. It was hard to breathe.
"Right now we can't get any closer," she heard on the walkie. "The area around the bridge is too unstable and the smoke is dangerous. We'll have to come back in the morning when the fire dies down. I don't think we'll find anything left of him anywa…", Maggie turned down the walkie volume when she realized what was being said.
Michonne stared straight ahead unblinking while her horse shifted nervously.
Maggie placed a hand on her thigh and rubbed gently, looking up at Michonne. "He saved us all Michonne," she offered. "That was who he was. What he did. If he had to pick a way to go, that would've been it."
Michonne stared, still unable to decide if this version of reality was real or not. How did her day start off so well and end like this? What was she going to tell her daughter? How could she go home without him?
"I need to find him," Michonne whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Okay," Maggie agreed, realizing Michonne would never let this go. "But not today. Today you're gonna go home and be with your daughter."
Michonne burst into tears. Wet, sorrowful tears that blurred her eyes and dropped snot from her nose. Tears that couldn't be hidden under a tissue, or stopped with a hug. Tears of loss, and devastation and despair, because it was just she and Judith now. Rick was gone. Rick was gone. He was gone.
Maggie guided Michonne's horse forward by its reigns and handed it to Tara.
"Take her home," Maggie ordered. "Tell them what happened, and that someone needs to stay with her. Alright? And maybe Judith should stay with you or Rosita for a while."
"I got it," Tara said, glancing up at a teary Michonne. "We'll take care of her."
"Thank you," Maggie said, giving Michonne's leg another squeeze.
"C'mon Michonne, let's go home," Tara suggested before tying Michonne's horse's reins to her own saddle in order to guide the horse.
Michonne's heart broke even more at the words. Her home was gone. Her home had exploded in a fireball without a goodbye, without a last kiss, a last hug, a last I love you.
She allowed Tara to guide her horse away from the smoke, the fire, the people milling about, but she didn't know where she was going. Her home was gone.
One day after the bridge.
Judith still didn't know. Michonne didn't know how to tell her that her father was dead. That he'd never be coming back, just like her brother and all the other family members she had lost. She didn't even want to say it because Michonne didn't truly believe it. She hadn't seen a body, she hadn't seen Rick die. She didn't feel his death in her heart.
Everything felt so surreal, almost like everyone was pretending he was dead to convince Michonne he was, but she thought if he'd died she'd know. Something in her would change somehow, but she didn't feel what she thought she would.
The night of the explosion, Michonne was in no state to care for Judith, and the girl had stayed with her babysitter. The next morning, at Michonne's insistence, Tara brought Judith to Michonne. Blissfully unaware of the sadness of the adults, Judith had wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her cheek. Tears streamed from Michonne's already bloodshot eyes.
Judith stared at her curiously and pointed at the tears that she'd never seen from her mother before.
"Yea baby, it's okay," Michonne reassured her, "Mommy is just sad. But… but you know what'll make Mommy feel better?" she asked.
Judith shook her head, her forehead scrunching in concern.
"Painting with my baby girl."
Judith smiled and wiggled out of Michonne's arms, running to grab the paints.
Michonne took a moment to compose herself before grabbing the art paper and easel and setting them up on the porch. Judith returned moments later carrying the paint and holding it up for Michonne to open.
Michonne managed a smile and slid Judith's smock over her head before opening the paint and letting her get to work.
"I'm gonna draw a tree," Judith said confidently, "and you, and me, and the lake."
"Okay baby girl," Michonne said softly, stroking Judith's hair. "Sounds great."
Judith began to paint, her strokes of different colors soon morphing together to form a picture. Michonne allowed her thoughts to drift away as the girl focused on her commission.
Rick was gone, but she didn't feel he was dead. She couldn't accept that until she saw something, felt something, that confirmed it. She had to go back to the bridge and look for herself. She had to, or she'd never believe he wasn't coming home.
She was startled from her thoughts by Judith tapping her on the arm.
"Look. I'm done Mommy," she announced, stepping to the side so Michonne could see the picture.
She'd painted the lake outside of their home, surrounded by trees. She'd painted herself and Michonne holding hands in the middle of the picture, but off to the side, almost floating in the air was a man that Michonne recognized well.
"See?" Judith asked, "I painted you, and me, and Daddy too."
Michonne smiled and nodded, a new round of tears escaping her eyes. She wiped at them quickly, not wanting to upset Judith.
"Why is Daddy up in the air like that?" Michonne asked her curiously. Rick's feet weren't touching the ground like Judith and Michonne's were.
"'Cuz he's watching over us like Carl," Judith said.
Michonne's head snapped to Judith in surprise.
"What? Honey who told you that? Who told you Daddy is watching over us?" Michonne asked, thinking someone had already told Judith about Rick's fate.
Judith shrugged her shoulders. "Daddy always does," she explained.
Michonne smiled and wrapped her arms around the only child she had left.
"Do you feel better now Mommy?" Judith asked.
"Yes" Michonne said with a smile. "I feel so much better baby girl. Here, let's put your painting on the wall."
One week after the bridge.
Michonne had visited the site every day, looking for something, closure of some kind that never came. On day seven, underneath a cluster of unassuming foliage, Michonne found his Colt. At first she thought she was dreaming, that she was seeing something that she had longed for for so long. She bent down and stretched out her arm, letting her pointer finger poke the shiny piece of metal. It was real.
Carefully, as if it would disappear if moved too quickly, she lifted the weapon and inspected it. It was covered in blood. His blood. Blood and soot. He must've been bleeding badly for his gun to be this red.
"Rick" she whispered, clicking the safety back on the gun. She spun around, searching the ground for any other sign of him. Looking for any proof of his survival. She could find nothing more.
"Rick!" she yelled, hoping to hear a weak response. He could've lived. Maybe he fell into the water. Maybe he was just hurt badly but still alive.
The sound of a crow cawing was her only response.
Michonne caressed the gun and pressed the handle to her mouth, giving it the final kiss she could never give Rick. If she hadn't had Judith waiting for her at home she might've used his gun to end it all, and meet him on the other side, but her baby girl needed her.
Michonne was grateful to have found some part of him. Something to remember him by. She tucked his gun into her back pocket and started her trek up the hill flanking the destroyed bridge, to her horse.
She looked back at the charred and still smoldering remains of the bridge, and at the flowing river underneath it. There was something pulling her back from accepting that she'd never see him again. She'd seen the explosion, the blood, and the devastating effects of the collapse, but still she held onto the almost impossible hope that he'd survived.
Still, he wasn't here, and Judith still didn't know. Michonne could feel the weight of his gun in her back pocket, the heaviness keeping her grounded in reality. His gun was here and he wasn't, and no matter what she felt she had a child to raise. Chances were he was gone, and she couldn't bear to dance around the issue whenever Judith asked when Daddy was coming home. She couldn't continue to lie to her daughter. He may never come home.
Her mind set, Michonne mounted her horse and spent the remainder of the ride home thinking how she'd break the news to her daughter that her Daddy was gone.
One month after the bridge.
Michonne had kept herself busy once she'd decided to stop visiting the bridge. She could still feel Rick in her heart, in her soul, but he wasn't here and she had to move on.
She'd finished writing her charter, putting all of her effort into it as a distraction from her aching heart. When she was done, she took Judith with her on a tour of all the communities, getting each leader to sign and agree to abide by the set of fundamental beliefs. Once all the others had signed, Michonne was the last to put her signature on the document, signing her name Michonne Grimes. She had to force herself not to cry as she thought that Rick should be here with her, signing his name as well.
When she returned home with Judith, after the whirlwind of travel and diplomacy, she had a moment to breathe and reflect. She also had a moment to realize that she hadn't been paying attention to her body. She was late.
Michonne tried to ignore it, expecting her period to start every day for a week. Then she started to worry. She and Rick had decided to try for a baby, but what were the chances that they'd succeeded, now, after he was long gone. Surely fate, or God, or whatever was controlling this unending life they were living wouldn't give her a child right after its father was taken away.
She tried to ignore the prospect that she could be carrying Rick's child, until four weeks had gone by and there was no sign of her missing period. With trepidation, she'd sequestered herself in her bathroom and took an expired pregnancy test alone.
It was positive.
Unable to process her feelings either way, Michonne shoved the test into the bathroom cabinet and continued her day, caring for her daughter and her community.
She missed Rick all the time, but night time was when she missed him the most. Judith had been put to bed, and the house was in silence. She lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind unable to rest.
He had to be dead. If he wasn't dead, where was he? How could he stay away? But there was no body, no proof that he'd died, and no proof that he'd survived. How could he have survived with all the blood he was losing when she'd seen him. What had happened to him before the explosion? Was he bit? If he was bit, even if he survived the explosion, it would explain why his body was no longer there.
Michonne released a quiet sob. It pained her to think he could be wandering the roads as a walker. Her husband, Judith's father, and the father of their… no, she couldn't think about what was happening inside her right now. What mattered was he wasn't here, and she needed to accept that.
Michonne tried to shut her brain off, but she couldn't, the thoughts permeating any relaxation she tried to have. She glanced at her katana, the only thing that allowed her to give off some steam. She'd been going out at night, more than she had before, and for longer hours, but she'd convinced herself that she had to stop. She had to deal with the loneliness, the pain, the despair in some other way. She had to cope without killing walkers, and so she'd been stopping herself from running off.
She stood and walked over to the weapon, running her fingers intimately down its intricate patterns. Killing would make her feel better, but she had to stop using it as a crutch.
Pulling her fingers away, Michonne made her way out of her room and down the hallway to Judith's. The girl was sleeping on her side, facing away from the door, her blond hair plastered across her forehead, and her cherub-like cheeks propped up against her arm.
Michonne stared down at her innocent daughter. Judith still asked when her Daddy was coming back. She didn't understand the death that shrouded and shaped her entire life.
Michonne had told her that daddy was with Carl in heaven, but Judith then politely asked to go to heaven and see him.
There was no way for Michonne to make Judith understand the permanence of death, and the fact that there was something that could ever prevent her Daddy from coming home to see her. Besides, Michonne didn't truly believe he was dead anyway, so how could she convince a child?
Michonne gazed down on this girl who had lost her real mother and father, the man who raised her as his own, and her brother. Judith was alone in the world just like Michonne was, and all they had was each other. Well, not just each other. Michonne placed her hand against her flat belly. Maybe they had something else too, but she wasn't ready to think about that yet. She was still trying to stop from spinning out of control.
Quietly, she pulled back the blanket of Judith's bed and slipped underneath, wrapping an arm around the sleeping child. She placed a kiss in Judith's hair, and Judith stirred slightly but didn't wake. Michonne lay there, gazing at her motivation for pushing forward, as she slept. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Michonne too fell into a fitful slumber.
6 months after the bridge.
The baby, who Judith had arbitrarily named Bump, made his presence known in the months to follow. Judith was fascinated with the size of Michonne's belly, often poking at her mom and sibling to get her attention.
Michonne had tried to ignore her growing belly for months, refusing to talk about or acknowledge the child within her. She was afraid. Afraid to admit that Rick would never see his child. Afraid to admit that Carl would never see his brother. Afraid to admit that this baby, who was a representative of everything she and Rick had fought and planned for for years would grow up without the knowledge of the father that had wanted him so badly. It took months, and lots of gentle prodding from Maggie, Rosita, Carol, Tara, and even Father Gabriel, to finally allow Siddiq to do an ultrasound.
Judith was with her the first time she'd heard the baby's heartbeat, and seen the little one on the ultrasound machine. Judith had gasped in excitement, and Michonne had burst into tears of joy. That was when Michonne accepted that this baby was a living piece of Rick. He would never die if this child, this new life that was half of him and half of her lived. In her heart, Michonne finally embraced the idea of being happy about the baby in her womb.
After hearing and seeing her brother, Judith had become obsessed with the pregnancy and had named the baby Bump.
"Mommy can you read me and Bump a story?" Judith asked, plopping herself into Michonne's lap after Michonne sat down to elevate her swollen ankles. She giggled at Judith's nickname for her brother.
"Okay, go get a book, and not that one…"
"Pleaseeeee?" Judith asked, spinning around to pout at her mother.
"I've read The Wizard of Oz to you at least 50 times!" Michonne explained, "try a different book."
"But I like that one Mommy. Bump likes it too" Judith said, already blaming things on her brother before he was even born.
"Why do you like that one so much?" Michonne asked, trying to hide her amusement. She knew she'd end up reading the book to Judith again either way.
"Daddy read it to me," Judith said.
Michonne felt her heart drop at Judith's words. She couldn't resist that reasoning. Michonne nodded and tilted her head towards the bookshelf. "Go on," she acquiesced.
Judith turned around to find the book amongst the dozens of others, while Michonne quickly composed herself. She'd never forget their last family fun day, when she and Rick had sat on the steps with Judith while he read her The Wizard of Oz. It had been such a good day, before duty, and responsibility had ended it. She would try to make more of those good days with Judith, and this new baby.
Judith returned with the book and climbed back into Michonne's lap, her little elbow resting on Michonne's large belly.
Taking a breath, Michonne began. "Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife."
She read to Judith for 20 minutes, until the girl was so sleepy her head was crashing into Michonne's shoulder every few seconds.
"It's time for bed Judy Pie," Michonne whispered into Judith's ear.
"I'm not sleepy," Judith said with a yawn.
"C'mon baby. It's time to sleep," Michonne said sternly closing the book.
Judith yawned again and didn't protest.
"Do you think you can go to bed by yourself?" Michonne asked. She had been trying to make the girl slightly more independent in anticipation of the baby that was on the way. Michonne knew she'd need Judith to help her sometimes, and she was trying to find the balance between Judith learning life skills at a young age, and still being allowed to be a child.
Judith nodded sleepily.
"Okay. Go put on your pajamas and get in bed and I'll be upstairs in a few minutes to tuck you in. Okay sweetheart?"
"Okay. Goodnight Mommy. Goodnight Bump," Judith said, leaning down and planting a kiss on Michonne's belly. At Judith's voice the baby began to kick wildly.
"You feel that?" Michonne asked, pressing Judith's hand to her abdomen. Judith nodded wildly.
"Your brother says goodnight too."
One year after the bridge.
He looked like his father. Their baby, their son. She saw Rick in his eyes. Hazel, with flecks of blue, green, and an amber brown. She saw Rick in the brief flashes of smiles he gave her in the morning when he first woke. She was pretty sure it was gas that made his lips turn up like that, but he looked so much like his Daddy that she pretended he was smiling just for her.
When she held their son, she felt Rick with her. She still held on to the hope that he was alive. Somewhere. But she kept that hope in her heart, away from the skeptical opinions of others. It didn't matter though, because she knew for sure that their son, Jude Richard Grimes was alive.
Michonne let Judith name him. She'd wanted to keep the name Bump. Jude was her second choice.
Michonne thought it was fitting. Carl has named Judith, and Judith had named Jude based on the name Carl had given her. It was as if Carl had inadvertently named his little brother as well.
Judith was in love with the baby and helped Michonne however she could. The rest of the family helped as well. Michonne had no idea how much work went into caring for two children alone, and she welcomed the assistance. Her days were filled with nonstop deadlines.
Wake up, change and feed Jude, get Judith dressed, take Judith to school, change and feed Jude, look over and amend the plans for new housing, change and feed Jude, clean the house, check the security report, pick up Judith from school, change and feed Jude, make dinner, help Judith with homework, have family time reading or playing a game, put Judith to bed, put Jude to bed, and then she was alone with her thoughts.
Her perpetual sadness would creep in even after a good day, because it was one more good day that Rick never got to see.
Two years after the bridge.
Every day he looked and acted more and more like Rick. Michonne bent over to hold one of his pudgy hands, as Judith grabbed another. Together they guided him across the living room floor, his wobbly legs shaking, but holding strong. They were bowled just like his Daddy.
"C'mon Jude. You do it yourself this time," Judith encouraged, letting go of her brother's hand suddenly. Thrown off balance he plopped to the ground, his diaper cushioning the fall.
Michonne was on the verge of chastising Judith, but Jude let out a hearty laugh, unfazed by his fall.
"Mommy when is he gonna walk?" Judith asked impatiently. "I wanna play tag with him."
"Sooner than you think," Michonne said, scooping Jude off the floor and twirling him around. "When he starts walking and getting into your stuff, and your room, you're gonna miss the days like this."
"No. It's gotta be more fun when I can play with my brother" Judith insisted.
"We'll see," Michonne answered skeptically.
"I'm gonna go make us some lunch. Can you bring his playpen over here so I can put him down?" Michonne asked.
Judith stood and turned to get the playpen from the other side of the living room. Jude whined, thinking Judith was leaving. When she was halfway across the room, the small boy crawled towards her for a few seconds, then leaned down and pushed himself off the floor. He stood, teeter tottering on his unsteady legs.
"Judith, look!" Michonne called, and she turned around and watched in wonder as her brother took 3, 4, 5 steps towards her before falling.
"You did it Jude!" Judith said happily, scurrying over to her brother and planting a kiss on his head.
The baby clapped, seemingly very pleased with himself, and Judith and Michonne joined him, showering him with praise.
"Mommy, you think Daddy saw that from heaven?" Judith asked. Her words shot through Michonne like a bullet. Judith hadn't brought up her father being in heaven in years, Michonne thought she'd long forgotten about that.
"Yes I… I think if he's in heaven he saw that and would be so proud of both of you."
Judith nodded, satisfied with her mother's answer, and continued to drag the playpen closer.
Five years after the bridge.
When Michonne had time, she'd stop by Carl's gravestone. Sometimes she'd leave something for him, other times she'd sit and tell him what was going on. She'd keep him updated on his siblings, or new projects that were going on in Alexandria, or anything plaguing her mind. And sometimes she'd talk to him about Rick. She'd tell Carl that she'd never given up on the hope he was still alive. She'd never truly believed that he'd died, even five years later. She talked to Carl about it because she couldn't tell anyone else without their pity or looks of surprise.
Some days she'd bring Jude and Judith with her. She wouldn't make them participate, she'd allow them to play in the cemetery's grass while she visited with her oldest son.
Sometimes it got hard, and she'd feel overwhelmed with motherhood, and leadership, and everyone else's problems. Sometimes she'd get angry with Rick for being so selfless, so sacrificing, that he selfishly left her for all these years. She'd cry alone at night, begging, pleading for the one man she'd ever loved with all of her being to come home. She'd feel isolated in the fact that she was still grieving after all this time, all these years. But her family brought her back from the brink, again and again. She had to do this, if not for herself than for her children.
Judith, at nine years old, started gun safety and training lessons. She was already skilled with the slingshot and the katana, so the gun was another necessary weapon to add to her belt.
Michonne had second guessed herself many times about when it was too early for Judith to learn, but she weighed her options and realized not knowing how to use a gun was deadly, so on her ninth birthday, Michonne gifted her with her father's Colt Python.
Judith had turned the gun over and over in her hands, mesmerized by the shiny pistol that had been cleaned and serviced by Michonne for years.
"This belonged to your Daddy," Michonne explained, tears coming to her eyes. "He used it to protect his family many, many times. He would want you to have it, to protect yourself. He'd want you to use it to keep yourself and others safe."
Judith ran her fingers over the brown handle.
"I'm giving this to you, because I think you're old enough to understand what's right, and what's wrong. You're old enough to do the right thing. There's no bullets in it, and you won't get them until you're trained how to use it properly, but this gun is yours now."
Judith looked up at her mother who was now crying. Understanding how much this gift meant to her mother, Judith gave her a hug and thanked her.
Michonne would sit on a tree stump with Jude, holding her hands over his ears, as Jesus trained Judith how to shoot the gun safely. It was strange to Michonne how normal this seemed, almost like watching Judith play on the soccer field. If only.
Jude wanted to join his sister, pointing and saying, "me too Mommy." Michonne simply held her boy to her chest and said with a heavy heart, "one day."
11 years after the bridge.
Judith strode into the house with a row of squirrels tied around her neck. She plopped the chain of dead rodents on the kitchen counter.
"Get those dirty squirrels off my counter!" Michonne called from the living room.
"Mom, guess what?" Judith asked, ignoring her mother's yell.
"I'll guess when the squirrels are off my kitchen counter. You know you're supposed to skin them outside Judith."
Judith sighed and hauled the rodents off of the counter, plopping them on the front porch until she could skin them. She loudly clomped back into the kitchen where Michonne had already entered and was wiping the counter down with a cloth.
"The fur could have ticks, fleas, or any other kind of bugs. This isn't the first time I've told you about bringing dead animal furs into the…"
"Mom!" Judith said, cutting Michonne off. "Guess what? I got an apprenticeship!"
"What?" Michonne asked, her cleaning temporarily forgotten.
"Mr. Pasley sent word from the Kingdom that he would let me be his apprentice for horse husbandry!" Judith announced.
"What?" Michonne asked again.
"Can I go? He said I could live with him and his family and I could stay there for two years and learn from him."
"When did you ask him about an apprenticeship?" Michonne questioned. "You never asked me about that."
"Well, I was going to let you know if I got it, and I did," Judith said sheepishly.
"You're not going to live in the Kingdom for two years. You're 14 years old!"
"All the other teenagers are getting apprenticeships. I know I really want to work with horses but I don't know all the skills and Mr. Pasley will teach me that."
"Judith, you're too young to…" Michonne began, but Judith cut her off.
"I can take care of myself mom. I can. Look, I just hunted dinner for us. You taught me how to defend myself and how to get what I need. I really want to go mom. Please?"
"Judith, the Kingdom is a whole other town. We should've discussed this before you even asked Mr. Pasley. It was nice of him to offer, but you're gonna have to tell him you can't do it. Maybe in a few years. You're still in school."
"The Kingdom has a school, and anyway the stuff we're learning isn't really what I need for my future. I don't care who the President of the United States was in 2010. Is that information going to keep me alive when I go on a run? Can I feed myself with that information?"
Michonne sighed in frustration. She had taught her daughter how to speak up for herself, and how to reason. The most frustrating thing about that was that Judith was very good at making a point and sticking to it.
"Judith, I don't want you living somewhere else. You are too young to live away with another family."
"Mom! Look, I know I should've asked you, but I knew this was what you were gonna say. I can do this. You know I can take care of myself. I'll be fine, plus I can learn a trade that I can bring back to Alexandria."
"I know you can take care of yourself but…"
"So what's the problem?" Judith shouted, her face turning red in anger.
Michonne simply stared at Judith and she knew she'd gone too far raising her voice at her mother.
"I'm sorry" Judith quickly apologized, "I just… please Mom. Please? Can you and Jude at least come to the Kingdom and maybe check it out before you say no? Talk to Mr. Pasley, maybe he can convince you I'll be okay. Please, just don't say no. I've been wanting to do this for a long time."
Michonne studied her daughter. She'd grown so much since they'd lost her father. Her long blond hair was styled into four braids to keep it out of her face when she hunted. She'd grown tall, almost taller than Michonne, and she was still growing. Her hands were rough from using it to hunt and shoot. She'd grown up in the woods, ever since she'd learned how to defend herself. Michonne had made sure she knew how to handle walkers. She couldn't lose another child to them. Never again.
Michonne had all the confidence that her daughter could hunt and protect herself, but she was still a child, despite all of that. And Michonne couldn't lose her. But, she also had been working all these years for a future for her children, and Judith was trying to embrace that future. Her daughter had a dream, and how could she deny that without even checking it out?
Judith could see the wheels turning in her mother's head, and she took that as encouragement. "Pleaseeee Mommy?" she asked.
Judith only called her Mommy when she wanted something.
Michonne sighed. "We'll go to the Kingdom in a few days and I'll talk to Mr. Pasley and check it out. I will see," Michonne said.
Judith let out a squeal and launched herself into Michonne's arms.
"Thank you Mommy! Thank you, Thank you!" she said, planting kisses on Michonne's cheeks.
Michonne couldn't help but smile.
"Just for the record, 'I'll see' is not a yes…", but Judith was already sprinting towards her bedroom, probably to pack.
Jude entered through the open front door.
"Hey mom" he greeted Michonne, planting a kiss on her cheek.
"Hi baby, how was school?" she asked, ruffling the tight kinks in his brown hair.
He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "It was okay."
"You have homework?" she asked.
"We have a project, to interview someone who remembers life before, and ask them a bunch of questions."
"Oh, that sounds interesting. Did you pick who you want to interview?"
Jude shrugged. "I dunno. I was thinking maybe King Ezekiel the next time he comes to visit here? I heard some kids say he used to have a tiger."
Michonne smiled. "That he did, a beautiful one, her name was Shiva."
Jude's eyes popped open. "It's true? He really did? Oh, I'm definitely interviewing him."
"Well what about me?" Michonne asked, "I remember life before, and I had a pretty interesting job."
"Uh, no thanks Mom," Jude said with a smirk, and Michonne jokingly elbowed him.
"Fine, wise guy." His sense of humor often reminded her of Carl.
"You might get your chance to interview Ezekiel soon. We're gonna be visiting the Kingdom in a few days. Judith might have an apprenticeship there."
"Really?" Jude asked mischievously. "Does that mean I get to miss school?"
"In the physical sense, yes. But you will be doing work on the road and working on your project while you're there, and I'll ask your teacher if she has any more work for you."
"Mommmm," Jude whined.
"You know the deal buddy," Michonne said, reaching into the cupboard to pull out beans to cook for dinner.
Is that dinner sitting on our front porch?" he asked, pointing at the string of squirrels Judith had left there.
"Yea it is. Can you start gutting and skinning the squirrels? Judith forgot to."
"Fine," Jude mumbled, turning to get the squirrels.
"And not on my front porch!"
"I know Mom," Jude called.
A few days later, Michonne set off on the road in a wagon with her children. Judith was full of nervous energy. She wanted this to work.
They'd been traveling for an hour when Michonne spotted a lone walker up ahead, slowly stumbling down the road. She pulled the wagon to a stop a few hundred feet away, as the walker approached.
"I got it!" Judith said, standing to hop out of the wagon. She wanted to make sure her mother knew how independent she was, in case she had any doubts.
"No," Michonne said, gesturing to her daughter, "Let me do this."
She hadn't killed a walker in a while. Ever since she stopped leaving in the middle of the night to hunt them, walker sightings were becoming less and less frequent. That's why she was okay with Judith going out to hunt by herself.
There were many patrols that scoured the roads to eliminate walkers, and she was curious as to how this one had gotten past them.
Michonne reached underneath the seat of the wagon and pulled out her katana. She hopped out the seat of the cart and approached the walker as her children watched.
It kept on its path, stumbling towards her, but curiously she didn't hear any growls coming from it. Its hair was long and stringy, and mostly covered its face, and its clothing was torn and frayed in many places. It looked like it'd been walking for a long time. She looked down at its feet, and her world stopped.
It was wearing brown boots with large holes in the sides. They were completely worn through and were falling apart, but she'd recognize those boots anywhere. They were cowboy boots.
Michonne gasped and took a few steps backwards. She felt weak, and almost fainted when the walker stopped in its tracks in front of her.
She was barely breathing, and still staring at the boots, afraid to look up at its face.
Judith, who was watching this scene from the wagon was alarmed when Michonne seemed to have frozen in front of the walker. She was even more confused when the walker seemed to have frozen in front of Michonne.
Michonne felt woozy from her lack of oxygen. She wasn't breathing. She couldn't move. Those were Rick's boots. On a walker. How did they get on a walker?
She couldn't look up. She couldn't see it. It was too much. After all this time it was too much.
Her katana clattered to the ground.
"Mom!" Judith called, leaping off the wagon, Jude right behind her. Judith was confused by the behavior of the walker who didn't make a move towards Michonne who was obviously in shock.
Michonne could see black spots in front of her eyes. She still couldn't move her body, she couldn't breathe. She was paralyzed. But using the last of her strength, she dragged her eyes up to the walker's face, and saw one blue eye peering at her from behind the hair.
A gravelly voice, not much different from a walker's, growled out.
"Michonne… I found you."
It was too much. This was too much. Unable to breathe, Michonne collapsed to the ground.
Judith ran at the walker in a panic, and before any words could be exchanged, she pulled the Colt Python from its holster and squeezed the trigger.
A bang echoed through the forest.
To be continued...