*** Author's Note: I am so grateful for the responses and reviews for chapter 1. You guys have encouraged me so much to continue writing this. I'm glad y'all are so excited about this story and I hope you're ready for the ride. Also, I edited chapter 1, Rick and Michonne are married in this story, he is not her boyfriend. If you read it as her boyfriend the first time you're not crazy, I changed it.
Michonne's eyes snapped open. She was hoping that whole conversation with Rick and Rosita was a weird dream, and she would see the welcoming pale orange walls of the bedroom she shared with Mike, and the sound of Andre playing in the bedroom next door when she came to, but she was greeted by the plain white of the infirmary.
When she looked to her right, she was met with two bright blue eyes staring at her. She almost burst into tears in frustration.
"How do you feel?" the man asked.
"My head is spinning and I feel like I'm gonna throw up" Michonne said weakly. "Please take me home" she begged.
"Michonne, I know you don't remember me, or anything that's happened in the past 6 years, but believe me when I say you are home. The home that you remember doesn't exist anymore."
Michonne sniffled and bit her lip, wiping a tear from her eye.
"I don't understand. How do you know that? How do you know me? Why won't you let me go?"
"I've known you for six years. You were my best friend for a long time, and then we became more. We got married. We're family. We have a family together" the man said, moving closer to her. "We're going to get through this. No matter what it takes. If you give it time you'll remember all of this, I know you will."
"Why were you saying Andre and Mike are dead? What happened to my son?" Michonne asked, still unwilling to trust this stranger, but desperate to hear any possible news on her family.
Rick sighed. "I wasn't there when it happened, but you told me that you and Mike and Andre went to a refugee camp after Atlanta fell…"
"Fell?" Michonne asked.
"The walkers, the dead infected with the virus, they took over Atlanta, attacking everyone, killing everyone. The army bombed the whole city trying to kill them, but it didn't work."
"What?!" Michonne shouted.
Rick nodded.
"So Atlanta is bombed out?" Michonne asked.
"It's not just Atlanta" Rick said, "it's all the cities, everywhere as far as we know. Probably the whole world is gone. The walkers took over everything."
Michonne grimaced and looked away from Rick. This made no sense. He had to be lying, or absolutely insane. He looked like he really believed all of this which made it even crazier.
"I can see your face. I know you don't believe me. You're not very good at hiding what you're thinking, at least not from me" Rick said. "I know this seems like a crazy movie, or a nightmare, but it's true. And I can relate to how you're feeling. I was in a coma when all of this was happening. I woke up in the hospital in the middle of all this, and everything I knew had changed."
Michonne's eyes slowly scanned over to Rick's face.
"What happened to Mike and Andre in the refugee camp?" she asked.
"You told me you had gone out with a few others to find food. Mike and Andre stayed back…" Rick started.
"Why did we have to find food?" Michonne asked. "I thought we were at a refugee camp? Didn't the army give us food?"
"The rations were running out. No new ones were coming in. You said people were getting desperate, so you volunteered to get food."
"And what happened?" Michonne asked, her eyes wide and hanging on Rick's every word.
"You said when you came back to the camp it had been destroyed by a herd, a large group of walkers."
"No!" Michonne said, clasping her hand to her mouth.
"I'm so sorry Michonne" Rick said.
"What happened to Andre?" She gasped, and her terrified eyes broke his heart.
"He… I'm sorry Michonne but he was killed. He was attacked by walkers."
Michonne burst into tears. "No" she sobbed. "Oh God no."
She held her stomach and moaned, fat tears dripping down her cheeks. Instinctively Rick reached out to comfort her, but he thought better of it and didn't. She wept with her face buried in her hands. After a while when she was able to speak she looked up at Rick again. "And Mike?" She asked.
"From what I know he was bitten by walkers. You uh… you had him and your friend Terry on chains when you met Andrea… uh, she's a woman you met on the road."
"What do you mean bitten? How does a bite kill a grown man?"
"When walkers bite people the wound gets infected. It's deadly if the person doesn't amputate. The bite causes a fever that kills the person, but then they come back as a walker themselves."
Michonne gave Rick a blank stare. "How does a dead person come back. And why did I have them on chains?"
Rick, seeing that Michonne had no clue what he meant, continued. "Mike and Terry were walkers. They were dead and infected with the virus, but they were still walking around. So that they couldn't hurt you, you cut off their arms and jaws and put chains around their necks and that's how you traveled. The dead act as camouflage against the dead."
Michonne continued to stare at Rick, stunned.
"You want me to believe I chopped off Mike and Terry's body parts, chained them up, and walked around with their corpses?" Michonne asked Rick. "That is crazy. That is insane. If I did that I'd be in a mental hospital. Why would I do that? And I told you that? Why would you even want to be left alone with me?"
Rick chuckled and folded his fingers in his lap. "I know it seems insane, but all of us have done things like that or worse to survive. You were grieving for Andre. You were all alone. And the guilt was killing you. I know all of this is a lot to grasp. It's a lot to handle."
"I can't believe that, I can't. How could I forget something like that? How could I forget Andre dying? How can I believe anything you're saying?" She asked, wiping her eyes. "You're calling me a murderer, you're telling me I mutilated the man I loved and his friend, you're telling me I committed crimes that would have me in jail for life, but you've given me no proof. Nothing but words. I'm a lawyer, and everything is based on what you can prove. So prove it. Prove to me that things are how you say they are."
Rick stood, wanting to comfort her. Wanting to hold his wife as she went through this emotional and mental turmoil. Every one of the many traumas she'd lived in her life was brand new for her, and the wounds were as fresh as if it just happened.
"I can't prove it to you right now, you're not well enough to leave the bed yet. Rosita thinks you have a serious concussion and swelling in the brain, that's why you can't remember. If we wait for the swelling to go down maybe your memory will come back."
Michonne stared straight ahead with her arms crossed against her chest. "So you're telling me that my boyfriend and my son are dead, the entire world is destroyed, we're all infected by some virus, dead people are trying to kill us, and there are no electronics, but I don't remember any of this 'cuz I bumped my head?"
Rick chuckled when he realized how ridiculous it all sounded.
"Yea, that pretty much sums it up" he said.
Michonne wasn't amused. "That sounds pretty damn depressing. And pretty damn psychotic. Look, you can talk all you want Rick. I won't believe you until I see some proof."
"I promise, when you're well enough to leave this room I will prove to you everything I just said is true."
Michonne sighed and leaned back into her pillows. She hoped Rick was lying. She hoped Andre and Mike were alive and waiting for her to come home. She hoped that the police were on their way, but until then she had to stay on this man's good side. And that meant she may have to humor him for a while.
"So how long have we been allegedly married?" Michonne asked.
"We've been married for four years" Rick said.
Michonne looked Rick up and down. Now that she was inspecting him, he was good looking. Attractive, nice hair, in-shape, and his eyes were almost distracting. But he definitely wasn't the type of guy she was used to dating. And he seemed to be nothing like Mike. She was curious as to how they ended up together, but just when she was going to ask, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in" Rick called.
A young man in his late teens to early twenties, with brown hair, a patch that covered one of his blue eyes, a cowboy hat, and facial hair that was barely growing in, stuck his head through the doorway and smiled at Michonne. He looked like he knew her, she could see the warmness in his one eye, and the relief on his face. Michonne felt like she was supposed to know who he was, but she didn't.
"Hey Michonne! Dad said you were sleeping" the boy said, stepping further into the room.
'Dad? This is Rick's son?' Michonne thought. She nodded. "Uh, yea. I'm awake."
Rick looked from Michonne to the boy. He seemed optimistic, like he was hoping she would recognize the boy, and she could tell he and the boy was disappointed by the lack of recognition on her face.
"I'm Carl" the boy said slowly, taking a few steps towards her. Unlike her reaction to Rick, she wasn't afraid of this boy, but she still felt badly that she couldn't recall any specific facts about him.
"We were worried about you. I… I was waiting for you to wake up" he explained. "Dad told me you don't remember anything."
"Yea, seems so" Michonne said softly.
"Don't worry you'll get your memory back" Carl said. "I'll help you, just like you helped me with my eye."
Michonne couldn't help but stare at the eyepatch that covered a huge portion of the boy's face and right eye. She wondered what could've possibly happened to cause that injury to him, but she figured this probably wasn't the best time to ask.
"Are we close?" Michonne asked the boy hesitantly.
"Well yea, you're my step mom" he said, inching closer to her bed. "It feels weird calling you that, but technically you are. But I love you. And you love me."
"I… I'm sorry… I don't remember you" Michonne admitted.
The boy's face dropped. "Yea I figured. Don't be sorry, I'm just glad you're alive. You could've died."
The boy reached for Michonne's hand and she didn't pull away. She could tell this boy was really attached to her, and although to her this was the first time they'd met, she acknowledged that he thought of her as his mother.
"I'm so glad you're alive Michonne. Take your time and get rest, but get better, okay?" he asked.
"Okay" Michonne responded, and to her surprise the boy leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Michonne's eyes popped open in amazement, but she squeezed his hand to comfort him.
"Dad, I'm gonna pick Judith up and take her home" Carl said.
"Okay, make sure she drinks water not juice with dinner please Carl. If she drinks juice past 7:30 you know she won't go to bed."
"Okay. Bye dad, bye Michonne" Carl said.
"Bye Carl" Michonne and Rick responded simultaneously. Michonne shot a look at Rick while Carl closed the door behind him.
"So that's your son?" Michonne asked.
"Our son" Rick explained. "I mean, not genetically, obviously…"
"And Judith?" Michonne asked. "Did we… is she mine?"
"She's yours in every way except genetics. But you've raised her since she was a baby. You're the only mother she remembers. She calls you mommy."
At those words, Michonne's mind went back to Andre. She missed her little boy so much. If Rick was right, she'd never hear him call her mommy again.
The tears began to fall before she could think of stopping them.
"I'm sorry Michonne. Oh honey" Rick said, placing his hand on her leg, but Michonne was still uncomfortable with him touching her and she pulled away. After a few seconds she wished she hadn't when she saw the hurt look on his face that he couldn't hide fast enough.
He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm gonna go outside the room, I'll give you some time to be alone. If you need anything just call out and I'll be right back" Rick said.
Michonne said nothing, so he turned around and left the room, keeping the door open a crack.
Michonne wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks, but as soon as she was completely alone she couldn't hide her devastation any longer. She allowed herself to fully express the pain she was feeling. Her son was dead. Mike was dead. Everyone she knew was probably dead. And there was nothing left in the world but what was in this town. It was a difficult concept to fully grasp, but what she could understand scared her.
What was the point of any of this? Why keep living with this family she didn't know, this husband she didn't know, this life she didn't know? Her baby was dead and she was alive. The world wasn't supposed to be like this. All of this was wrong.
She didn't want to accept this reality that these people were telling her. She didn't want this cruel, harsh world. She wanted her normal order from Starbucks, a work out at the gym, a hot shower, and a massage. She wanted Andre and Mike to come running into the room relieved to see her, she wanted to feel her Peanut's arms around her neck as he hugged her, and Mike's lips on hers as he kissed her and told her it would all be okay. The yearning she felt for her family was so strong she felt sick to her stomach.
"Rick?" She called.
Rick was back in seconds with Rosita right behind him.
"Bag" she said, clutching her stomach. Rosita grabbed a bag immediately and held it up to Michonne's face right before she emptied the meager contents of her stomach into it. She retched three times until she was done. The vomiting seemed to sap all of her strength, and she lay back down on the bed breathing hard.
"The nausea is probably the concussion" Rosita said. "Do you feel dizzy?"
"Yea, when I lay down" Michonne said.
Rosita studied the side of Michonne's head where there was a sizable bump and a black and blue bruise.
"This injury is only going to heal with time and rest. So will the emotional injuries" Rosita added, and Michonne glared at her, suddenly angry.
"Just leave me alone" she snapped. "Just… just let me…" but Michonne broke down again mid sentence, tears once again flowing from her eyes.
Rosita looked over at Rick and he nodded his head towards Michonne. He knew someone should comfort her, and as much as he wanted to wrap his arms around her he knew she would fight him. But maybe she could receive that comfort from Rosita. Rosita crouched down so that she was eye to eye with Michonne.
"Can I give you a hug?" Rosita asked her.
Michonne's lip trembled and she nodded her head. Rosita leaned in and wrapped her arms around Michonne's shoulders and the woman crumbled, crying hysterically.
"I want my baby. He can't be dead, he can't. I want Mike. I want to go home. I can't live like this. I feel so lost, and i don't understand what's going on" Michonne admitted, finally breaking down.
"It's okay, it's okay" Rosita said, rubbing circles on her back.
Rick teared up watching his wife in such anguish and unable to help her. He knew she needed to heal but he wanted to be there for her the way Rosita was. He wanted to wipe away her tears and tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to help her remember. But he knew all he could do for her now was watch and wait.