Chapter 2

Hard to Breathe

Michonne could tell the sun was shining. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but, she could tell. She could also tell that she wasn't alone. She vaguely remembered speaking to someone last night and that someone giving her water. Then, as if the mere thought of the clear liquid created an actual physical manifestation of Sahara-esque dryness, her throat contracted painfully and she started to cough. While she was gasping for breath, she could hear someone walking toward her. As she tried to listen and catch her breath at the same time, she realized that whoever was walking towards her, had an uneven gait. She opened her eyes to see the man she thought of as the grandfather of The Gardening Group, approaching her slowly. He looked nervous and she couldn't blame him. He didn't know her. Hell, he made her nervous for that exact same reason.

But, nervousness or not, she now fully recalled that she actually did have a visitor last night. She grabbed the half empty bottle of water that Carl provided for her. She made herself calm down before she took a drink though, because wouldn't it be hilarious to survive the past couple of years relying on her wits and fighting skill only to die by choking to death on a swallow of lukewarm water.

When her coughing was finally soothed by the water, and it seemed her chest and throat had become detangled, she looked up at 'grandpa'.

"Are you OK?" he asked her, coming a little closer.

"Yeah," she said, clearing her throat just to be sure. "Did you fix my leg?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm only a veterinarian, but I've improved my skill set due to unavoidable circumstances," he said jokingly.

She nodded her head and checked out her thigh. The bandage looked good, no blood, and it was clean. Her injury still hurt, but as long as she didn't get an infection, she could deal with the pain.

"Are you guys going to let me leave when I'm well enough?" she asked.

Hershel was a bit taken aback by the question.

"Of course, you'll be able to leave if, that's what you want. We'd never hold you against your will. I would like you to stay for the next 7 days though."

Michonne felt uneasy that it would take that long for her to be able to leave. Seven whole days with people she didn't know. She didn't like that at all, no matter how nice the kid was. Hershel saw that she looked a little uncomfortable and was quick to try and assure her.

"Only so that I can keep track of your temperature and your recovery. I don't want infection to set in and you need to take the full course of antibiotics in order for that not to happen. That takes 7 days."

Hershel had a small plastic cup with a huge pill in it.

"First pill of the day. We'll do this three times a day for seven days. Then, if you decide you don't want to stay, you will be free to do as you please."

Michonne grabbed the plastic cup and eyed her doctor. As she looked at how big the pill was, she had to laugh softly.

"You sure this pill isn't for a horse? You said you were actually a vet right? All of your patients haven't start to run together on you have they?" she laughed.

Hershel was glad she felt good enough to crack a joke. Maybe she'd be able to answer some questions as well.

"Well, I've been able to keep all the different species separate so far, but if you ever see me trying to neuter one of the men here in the prison, retire me."

Michonne laughed at the corny joke.

"What's your name?" Hershel asked smiling down at his patient.

"Michonne," she said.

"Good to meet you Michonne. My name is Hershel," he said as he extended his hand.

Michonne surprised herself when she shook it. It felt good though, to talk to someone other than her dead boyfriend again. She choked down the pill and lay back on the bed.

"I had a visitor last night," she said.

She didn't want to get the kid in trouble. He was sweet. But, she could have been a crazed lunatic and she had the distinct feeling that no one knew he was in there with her so early this morning. That was dangerous.

"Did you now?" Hershel asked a bit surprised. Rick informed him last night that he told everyone at the prison to stay out of the infirmary.

"Yeah. It was that kid I saw before I passed out yesterday. He brought me some water. I didn't scare him or anything," she quickly stated in case she had crossed a line of some kind.

"Oh, I don't doubt that. Carl doesn't scare easily," Hershel said. "How many questions did he ask you?"

"Inquisitive huh?" Michonne asked chuckling. "Not many. He just wanted to know my name."

"Well, I'll not mention it to Rick. I don't want… Are you okay?" Hershel asked. His new patient looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Rick?" she asked quietly.

"Um, yes. Rick Grimes. He's the leader here. He's the one that carried you into our home. Carl is his son."

I loved real, real hard once

But the love wasn't returned

Found out the man I'd die for

He wasn't even concerned

Michonne lost her breath. At the very mention of his name, she felt as if all the air in the room had been stolen away from her. It was him. Rick. Her Rick. She couldn't believe it. She reached for the unopened bottle of water that Carl had left for her last night and found that her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Hershel noticed her small difficulty and handed her the bottle after opening it for her. "Obviously, something is not right here," Hershel thought to himself.

The way Rick refused to look at her yesterday and the way she was reacting after hearing his name today; he needed to speak to Rick.

"Michonne, I hate to leave you right now, but I'll be right back. Don't try and get up, I don't want you to reopen your wound."

He didn't think she would reopen it, if she were careful enough, but he told her that so she wouldn't bolt. She looked like a frightened cat. He took the bottle of water from her and put it back on the table next to her bed.

"I'll be right back," he said again as he helped Michonne lay down.

She didn't answer him. She was someplace else at that moment. Hershel left her there, hoping that when he came back, she'd still be there.

Even though Michonne was laying down, she felt dizzy. Rick was here. The only man she'd ever loved in this world. The man that hurt her worse than any man in this world. She felt the tears stinging her eyes, and instead of trying to fight them like she'd done so many times in the past, she gave in and let them fall.

See, I thought this feeling

It was all that I had

But how could this be love

And make me feel so bad?

"What am I going to do?" she sobbed quietly. "I can't stay here, not now."

She scoffed at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. She'd escaped from that fucking prison disguised as a neighborhood called Woodbury, and had been limping around in the woods for almost a week and a half before she discovered this one. She was injured, hungry, dirty, tired, and literally had no other place to go.

"That's right, so what the fuck are you gonna do? And what's this shit about him being the only man you've ever loved?" Mike asked her.

Mike always seemed to come when she was at her fucking lowest.

"Because that's when you need me the most baby girl. Now, are you gonna answer me or lay there and cry?"

"Leave me alone Mike. Please," she begged him. "I can't deal with you right now."

"Well, too bad that's not up to you yet. Now, again, what are you gonna do?"

"I'm getting the fuck out of here, that's what I'm going to do," she said as she tried to sit up.

"Okay, so where are you gonna go?"

"I have no fucking clue, but I cannot stay here. Not with him."

Michonne not only managed to sit up, but to swing her legs off of the bed as well. The pain that accompanied this move was so bad she felt like she'd been stabbed again. Looking down at her thigh, she watched as a small spot of blood appeared on what was once a pristine white bandage, and it was growing larger by the second. She'd opened her fucking wound back up.

"Shit," she said quietly, cursing herself for her carelessness and stupidity. Hershel told her not to move or else she would do exactly what she had done.

"Look at you. You can't even get out of the bed without fucking yourself up." Mike said. And even though she couldn't hear it, she got the impression that Mike was laughing at her.

"I'm not laughing at you baby girl, but can you just stop and think of the situation you're in? You're inside, these people are taking care of you, you're getting medicine, but because you're scared of this white boy that's got your nose open, still, after all these years, you're trying to run. But your ass can't even walk. You have to admit, that is some funny shit."

This time, the laughter came through loud and clear.

"Fuck off!" Michonne hissed as she stood up. Then, promptly hit the floor. She cried out in pain. Her leg felt like it was on fire!

Carl was sneaking back to see Michonne since he knew Hershel was wondering around the prison looking for his father. When he got close to the door, Carl heard Michonne tell someone to fuck off, followed by a loud thud and a yelp. He rushed in to find his dad's old girlfriend on the floor clutching her leg and writhing in pain. He also saw that she was totally alone. He had no idea who she was talking to, but he couldn't try and figure it out now. She needed him.

"Michonne, are you okay?" he asked as he ran to try and help her up.

"I'm fine kid. I'm okay," she said, trembling with pain.

The tears in her eyes told Carl a different story though. Plus, her leg was bleeding badly again. He hunkered down in front of her so that he could look into her eyes and she could look into his.

"I'm gonna help you get back into the bed but, I think the pain is gonna get a little worse, okay?"

"No, no, I just need to find my pants," Michonne said from the floor. "I'll be fine."

Carl shook his head at her. "Hershel had to cut your pants to get to your damage. Now they only have one full leg and one very short one. I'll get you some pants from the laundry, but I need to get you off the floor first."

Michonne was amazed by this kid. He was a grown up in a child's body. The only thing she could do while looking into those haunting blue eyes, His eyes, she realized with a jolt, was nod her head in agreement. "This was Rick's kid" she thought. Rick's son, who apparently he'd named after her baby brother. She couldn't stop the fresh tears that streamed down her face hoping Carl would account them to her current pain.

"Okay, kid. Let's do this," she said as she tried in vain to wipe her tears away.

"It's best if we do it quick," he told her. "Hold onto my shoulders and put your weight on your good leg, then, we'll stand up."

Michonne took a deep breath and tried to get herself ready for the pain that was surely coming. With her wounded leg flopping around like a dead fish, she put as much weight as she could on the other. She'd have to rely on her new friend to take the weight she couldn't handle.

"It's a good thing I haven't had a decent meal in two years or we'd have a real problem here kiddo," she joked.

He looked at her and smiled, then braced himself. They stood up and Michonne moaned.

"Fuck this hurts!" she thought to herself.

"I know this hurts," Carl said, as if he'd read her thoughts, "but the beds right behind you. Just hop back once and sit down," he said, doing his best to hold her up.

She did. The pain was almost overwhelming, but she couldn't pass out on the poor kid. Instead of just sitting on the bed though, she fell into it, relieved that the ordeal was over. An ordeal that she'd caused herself by being stupid. She did learn something from it all though. She learned that she wasn't going any fucking where. In the back of her mind, she could hear Mike, still laughing.

As Michonne lay there with her eyes closed trying to gather her thoughts and fight off the pain, Carl stared down at her. He could see the pain in her face and he felt bad for her.

"I'm sorry you're hurting so bad. I know how that feels," he said to her.

"You been stabbed before kiddo," she asked jokingly.

"No. I got shot."

Michonne sat up again, despite the pain that radiated through her leg.

"Shot? Who in the hell shot you? Or maybe a better question is, why would someone do that?"

Carl was surprised. Whenever he told anyone that he'd been shot, people usually looked at him with some weird kind of awe. Michonne looked…concerned.

"It was an accident. Otis didn't mean to, but I can still remember how much it hurt before I passed out, and it still hurt when I woke up again," Carl said looking down at his feet.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. Your parents must have been worried sick," Michonne said.

"Well, my dad was. My mom thought it would be best if I just died."

Carl had never told anyone, not even his dad that he knew what his mom said.

"I'm sure she was worried too Carl. She was probably just scared shitless that she was gonna lose you," Michonne said, even though she had to wonder about what type of mother would ever even entertain such a thought.

"Yeah, I guess. Doesn't make it hurt any less though."

Michonne wanted to grab this kid and hug him until he felt better. Instead, she carefully eased over on the bed and patted the empty space she left for him to sit down. When he did, his back was to her and his head was bowed. She could tell he wasn't crying, but he was hurting. She gently began to rub his back.

"You know, parents say and do things without thinking sometimes. Just like we all do. I'm sure after you woke up and she saw that you were okay, she was so relieved, that she probably didn't even remember saying what she said. And, if she did, she probably felt an enormous amount of guilt because she didn't mean it," Michonne said softly as she continued to rub his back for him.

She felt him shudder a little and thought maybe he was crying. Well, that was okay. She'd had a few crying session herself lately. Sometimes, it helped.

Still sitting with his back to her, he asked, "Do you have any kids?"

Her back rub faltered a little at the question, but she didn't stop.

"I did, but…I lost him. He died," she said, not understanding why on earth she was telling this child this.

"Before, or after?" Carl asked her, still not turning around. He didn't have to specify "before or after" what. She knew what he meant.

"After," she whispered.

Carl looked at her and realized that this question was one he probably should have kept to himself.

"I'm sorry Michonne," he said, feeling agonized that he'd caused her more pain.

"It's okay Carl. It's okay. You know," Michonne said, wanting to turn the subject away from her dead little boy, "you should talk to your mother about how you feel and about what you heard. I'm sure she'll…"

But, Carl was shaking his head at her suggestion.

"I can't. She's dead. I killed her." And then, Carl let go.

I cried, and I cried, and I cried

But I couldn't make it right

Carl's little body was shaking so as he wept silently, that she thought he may fall off the bed. He was crying so hard, that he didn't even seem to be breathing. When he did finally start to breathe again, he let out a wretched, tortured moan that broke her fucking heart. Michonne gently pulled him back towards her and encircled him into her arms. She had to remove that ridiculously large hat he was wearing, and he didn't try to stop her. He just lay the back of his head on her chest and sobbed. Michonne closed her eyes and rested her cheek on the top of his head, and gently rocked him.

"It's okay Carl. Everything is going to be okay," she kept telling him.

She didn't know if she believed it, but she knew she wanted Carl to believe it. So, she rocked him, rubbed his hair and told him that everything would be okay.

That was the scene Rick Grimes witnessed when he finally made his way to the infirmary. Two of the three people he loved most in the world. Both hurting, one comforting the other. He could barely breathe.

Lyrics: When It Hurts So Bad – Lauryn Hill