Author's Note: HAPPY SATURDAY! A HUGE thank you to everyone who followed/reviewed/favorited. YOU ARE AWESOME. Also, I love Rick and Michonne. They're my favorite characters on the show. I'll treat them nicely. Rick just hasn't had Michonne until now and needs to find his way back from Crayville. :)
It seemed like thirty minutes had passed since Aaron had left to go find Rick, leaving Michonne alone to wander the house. She pushed aside the closed blinds and peeked out of the window, spotting Rosita sitting idly on the porch steps with her katana draped over her legs. She leaned forward curiously when a man sporting a serious mullet walked up to Rosita's side and began speaking with her, gesturing questioningly at the sword. He glanced at where Michonne was standing after a moment, and she jumped back, letting the blinds close on her.
Sighing, she sat down on the couch and bounced her feet, turning toward the piano. She shook her head.
A goddamn piano. I must be dreaming.
Her eyes landed on a set of framed photographs hanging above the staircase; the pictures gave the image of what looked like a very happy family. Something inside of her stomach churned as it suddenly dawned on her that this was somebody's old home.
She immediately stood up and wandered into the kitchen.
She was turning the water on and off at the sink when Aaron poked his head through the front door, startling her.
"It takes a while to get used to again," he smiled.
Michonne turned the faucet off and made her way toward him, not responding. She stopped a few feet away from the door. "You find Rick?"
He nodded. "He's here." He opened the door wider for her to exit before walking down the porch steps to the street.
Michonne spoke up as they began to walk away from the house with a silent Rosita in tow. "So, how long have you been at this place?"
Aaron smiled wistfully at some memory, keeping his eyes ahead of him on the street. "For a while now. Coming close to nine months, maybe?"
She looked over her shoulder at Rosita. "And you?"
The young woman shook her head. "No, I haven't been here as long. I'm new. I came here with Rick."
Michonne's eyebrows rose in surprise, and she stopped walking, turning her head toward her. A million questions flooded her mind at once. "What did you say?"
"I haven't been here as long as Aaron."
"No—you just said that you're new. And that you came here with Rick."
Rosita raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, not following.
Michonne gave her an expectant look. "But Rick's the leader of this place."
Rosita looked at Aaron fleetingly before glancing back at her, unsure of what to say.
Michonne inhaled a deep, impatient breath as she watched them exchange their second muted conversation right before her eyes. She squinted at Aaron past the sunlight. "Aaron, who was recruited before me?"
The pause that he took before answering was not lost on her. "A man named Morgan."
Her gaze unfaltering, she asked slowly, already knowing the answer, "And who was recruited before him?"
Aaron's jaw twitched. "Rick." Then, he added as an afterthought, "Him, Rosita—their whole group."
Michonne stared at him like he had grown another head and two other arms. "And this is all just…okay with you?"
"A lot has happened since then," Rosita told her firmly, her eyes certain and her mouth pressed into a thin line. Michonne could hear the subtext of Rosita's words.
You don't know what you're talking about.
"What, exactly? What happened to whoever was your leader before?"
Michonne searched their faces when neither of them answered her question, pursing her lips. She turned back around with a frustrated huff. Looking pointedly at Aaron, her brows furrowed as they began to start walking again.
"Okay, fine. I'll just ask Rick, since he clearly doesn't want anybody else speaking about it. What exactly should I expect from this meeting, anyway? What's he like?"
Although I can already take a few guesses.
"It's just an interview," Aaron replied, looking relieved at their sudden change of conversation. "And Rick's been outside of these walls for longer than most of the people here; he's a good guy."
She studied him closely. "We'll see about that."
Aaron cleared his throat as they approached another large house three streets away.
"He's in there," he said, motioning to the front door. "Just go on in. He's expecting you."
Michonne pressed her lips together as she stared up at the house. "I feel like I should thank you, but a part of me feels like I'm being thrown into a lion's den."
She at least appreciated their honesty when neither of them denied it.
"And my katana?"
"Bring it inside with you."
Michonne turned her head at the sound of the low voice that held a hint of a Southern twang.
A man with wavy brown hair and a clean-shaven face was standing at the door of the house, his hand resting on one side of the open doorway. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the sheriff's uniform he was wearing.
You've got to be kidding me. He's the sheriff, too.
The urge to laugh left her when she noticed the cautious, hardened look in his eyes.
Without a word, Michonne calmly held out her hand to Rosita, who hesitated momentarily before handing her katana over. Michonne lifted the strap over her head and rested it onto her shoulder, sneaking another glance at Rick.
He had disappeared inside the house and had left the door open for her, and she inhaled deeply. Figuring there wasn't anything more to say to Aaron, she gave him and Rosita a nod in thanks for their help and made her way toward the front door, slowly walking past it and into the house.
Rick was standing in the living room with his hands on his hips, studying her. Her eyes fell across the room, blatantly ignoring his stare, fleetingly noticing that his house was clean and tidy, as if he never touched anything. Her gaze suddenly stopped on a stuffed elephant toy and some building blocks that could only have belonged to a very small child.
Her eyes darted back to Rick's. He was watching her like a hawk.
"Sit," he finally told her, pointing to a chair.
Michonne acquiesced and sat down on the cushion, readjusting her sword so that it wasn't poking into her back. She looked up at him patiently.
The fact that Rick was looking at her like he had already branded her a criminal made her hands clench into fists.
"How many walkers have you killed?"
Michonne let a pause settle in the air before answering. "Walkers?"
He didn't nod. "How many?"
Michonne shook her head incredulously as she looked off to the side, frowning as she thought of how to even begin to answer this question. She finally settled on the only unoffensive answer she could think of. "A lot."
Rick rested his hands on the back of the couch in front of him, leaning forward.
"How many people have you killed?"
Michonne's eyes snapped back to his.
She didn't hesitate before repeating calmly, "A lot."
His jaw tightened, and something in his eyes flashed. "Why?"
"Because they wanted to kill me," she replied without holding back the sarcasm. He didn't answer immediately, and she stared back at him calmly, refusing to be the first to look away from this ridiculous staring contest they had going on.
He blinked and glanced off to the side before returning his gaze to hers.
"How'd you survive alone for so long?"
Michonne hesitated, and something kindled in Rick's expression when he thought that he had gotten to whatever lie she was playing at.
"I…wasn't alone in the beginning," she replied cryptically. "That's all I've been doing since then. Surviving."
Rick searched her face. "Who were you with?"
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "It doesn't matter."
"It does. Why aren't they with you anymore?"
She stared at him like he was insane—clearly, stepping over any personal boundaries wasn't an issue with this guy. "I'm not going to bring you down that road. Not unless I get to go down yours."
When he abruptly turned away from her and began walking toward the door, Michonne's lips parted in surprise. She immediately called out after him.
"Wait."
He looked over his shoulder at her, an eyebrow raised.
She gave him a look. "That's it? You haven't answered any of my questions."
His expression didn't change. "That's because I ask the questions here."
Michonne simply stared back at him, stunned.
Rick continued walking toward the doorway, and she thought she saw a glimpse of the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips. When he pulled the door open and turned to her, she realized that she was wrong.
She wanted to wipe the shit-eating smirk off of his face with her fist.
"Welcome to the Alexandria Safe-Zone, Michonne."
They locked eyes as she rose from the chair, the frown deepening on her face from his blunt dismissal. She finally broke eye contact once she began to walk past him out the door, but he stopped her with a light tap on her upper arm. She froze and glanced over her shoulder at him.
He was looking down his nose at her. "One more thing. Your sword."
She turned around quickly, her eyes sending daggers his way. "No."
"It stays with me, or you go back out there."
"That's not going to happen."
Rick shrugged carelessly. "Then you leave. That's your decision."
Michonne weighed her options in the span of a few seconds. A part of her wanted to threaten him with what Rosita had told her, knowing that if he had risen to being the leader so quickly, so could anybody else—including her.
Instead, she tilted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Sure, okay," she began, unfazed. "But if it stays in this house with you, so do I. Aaron agreed to it earlier."
He shook his head and chuckled. "I'm not Aaron."
She gave him a look of open innocence. "What—you don't trust your people?"
He blinked at her, his smile disappearing from his face.
Michonne sent him the same small, smug smirk he had given her before and took advantage of his momentary shock. "Thank you for the welcome, Rick."
He grabbed her arm not too gently when she turned away, and she quickly righted herself, yanking it out of his grip.
"Don't you ever touch me again," she snapped.
He was glaring at her. For one brief, ridiculous moment, she wondered at how such pretty blue eyes could belong on such an arrogant man. The thought was gone as quickly as it had come.
"It stays in your house with you," he told her through clenched teeth. "Someone sees you with it outside, you're gone."
Michonne eyed him for a moment before turning around without another word. She walked down the steps toward a half-happy, half-nervous-looking Aaron and ignored the fact that she could feel Rick's eyes on her back the entire time.
We'll see about that.