Michonne's POV

Warning(s) Michonne has some unsavory thoughts about Daryl.

There was no closure. No body to bury, no walker to put down. It was as if he had vanished in a puff of smoke, like he had never even been there. One minute had had been kissing her and Judith goodbye and the next he was...gone. It should have gotten easier. People died everyday. Especially now. Carl's death had been a blow to Michonne's heart, reminiscent of when she had lost Andre. Those had been her boys. Her children. Carl had been hers as much as Andre had, she had loved him just as she had loved her first boy.

But Rick's...

Losing Rick had destroyed something in Michonne. Six years later and Rick Grimes's death was still just as fresh as it had been the moment the bridge went up into flames.

She went day by day. She fed the kids, tucked them in at night, brushing her hands through her son's curls that were just like his father's and returning his smile that was all Rick. Having to face Judith and explain to her that her daddy wasn't coming back. For weeks afterwards she would run to the door, waiting for him...eventually she stopped. Michonne wished she could have stopped with her. She still looked.

She still hoped.

Daryl had vanished into the woods, like smoke through their fingers. Once Rick was gone, Daryl had lost whatever ties he had to the community. Michonne wished she could have run to. Wished there were to responsibilities for her back home, but she couldn't run. She could never run. Eventually she had asked that one question that had been nagging at her since she saw her boy consumed in flames.

Why was he out there? Why was Rick put in that position in the first place.

And it was Daryl.

It was always Daryl. Hatred festered in Michonne's heart, a hatred she knew Rick would not want her to feel but she felt in nonetheless. She wondered if Maggie felt any vindication? Had she not asked hours before what Michonne would have done in her place? Michonne had not ever wanted to think on it. Not her boy. Not him. Yet, here she was, standing at that fucking bridge, watching it burn and wanting to know why.

It had cost everything. Rick's life, her friendship with Maggie and any goodwill in her heart. When Daryl had done that fucking sad little shuffle of his, head bowed and eyes squinting as he mumbled that he had taken Rick on the bike, he had put him in that position and he had fucking left him. There were no words that could have made it better and Michonne was tired of forgiving people when they messed up. Hadn't his temper cost Glenn his life? Hadn't he learned anything? She had thrown herself at him in a blind rage, hailing down punches and curses as Maggie and Jesus fought to drag her away.

'YOU DID THIS! IT WAS ALL YOU, DARYL!'

'ARE YOU HAPPY NOW!?'

'DO YOU FEEL VINDICATED NOW, DARYL!?'

Daryl never set foot back in Alexandria and Michonne was no longer welcome to Hilltop. All the progress they had made and all of Rick's hopes burned with him and that bridge. There was no room for weakness and Michonne had a job to do. She had to tell those who had not witnessed the incident about Rick's death. Tara had wept bitterly, muttering about mother goose and the unfairness of it all. Aaron had still been healing and the news had seemed to stun him. Siddiq had looked out the window, dark eyes suddenly aged.

"It's never going to get any easier..."

Daryl had used Rick's death as an escuse to remain a recluse and maybe she was being too harsh, maybe her grief was blinding her, but the idea of him hiding out in the woods, searching for Rick's body only proved his guilt. He never should have taken him out there. It should have been him.

Telling Negan had been...it had taken time. Negan had lost all his composure with Maggie and Michonne had not felt any interest in divulging Rick's death to the man. She could only imagine with scorn he would throw at her. Their earlier discussion would be used against her. He would be bitterly triumphant and sneering over the death of his victor. She had not wanted to see that grin. She avoided him directly after the accident, having Rosita go in her place and the woman had been staunchy silent, reporting anything Negan might have said to Miconne. He did not speak much, seeming to be a shell of himself, with little interest in eating or speaking. Only Rick could have reached him. Only Rick could have brought him back, and as far as Negan was aware, Rick was avoiding him. It took over a week for Michonne to begin delivering his meals again and he watched her like a wounded, cornered animal, eyes dark and stark against his pallid skin. He wanted to ask where Rick was, she knew it. The question was in his eyes. His obsession had not waned.

It took another week for Negan to speak again and as expected, his first words were about Rick. "Rick too good to see me now that I've ben neutered?" Negan had drawled out, voice cracking and weak from disuse. Michonne pushed the plate towards him in silence. For days afterward, Negan would sneer about Rick avoiding him, would cajole at Michonne and it ate at her. He was as guilty as Daryl. Rick had been trying to get back to stop Maggie from killing him. Negan grew restless, angry and desperate to see Rick. Te only person he wanted to see. The only person he cared for in some twisted sense.

"He really thinks he can just pretend I do't even fucking exist? Like some hamster he got sick of after the novelty wore off?" Negan gripped at the bars with white knuckles. Michonne had clenched her jaw. If she didn't say it, maybe it din't have to be true. If one person believed he was still alive, maybe he could still be.

But no. If Michonne had to wake up everyday to an empty bed, then Negan did not deserve the luxury of hoping to hear Rick's footsteps.

"Rick's dead, Negan." Michonne had finally admitted, voice cold and detached, waiting for Negan to spit insults and barbs. Instead, he had stared. Silence hung heavily over the prison. Michonne refused to wilt under it, staring at Negan with her shoulders squared and jaw clenched.

"You're lying." She nearly laughed at this. What a disgusting thing to lie about. What a terrible thing to even consider. She watched Negan who stared at her defiantly. He shook his head, laughter bubbling out. "You're such a god damn liar." The laughter had followed her, growing hysterical and echoing off the stone walls. He began to scream for Rick, demanding he come down here. His voice had grown desperate and Michonne had fled up the stairs, Negan's screams following her. The monster was released.

"STOP PLAYING AROUND, RICK!"

She slammed the door behind her, managing to wrench her arm with the force of it.

"I'M NOT FALLING FOR THAT BULLSHIT!"

Her legs shook but she forced herself to keep walking. Keep moving away from that cell. One step in front of the other.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY, PRICK! FUCKING COME DOWN AND FACE ME!"

The sobs followed soon after.

When Judith brought those strangers into their community, wishing to help them, it was as if Carl had spoken through her. It was as if Rick had suggested it. That little girl was smart and not so little anymore. Rick would have been proud. She wished he was here to see it. There was no room for outsiders. Not anymore. They had their own to worry for, but how could she say no? How could she refuse them aid when Judith fixed her with that solemn stare?

Weeks later, she had discovered she was pregnant. Hadn't she and Rick discussed the possibility of having kids? Hadn't this been what he had hoped for? Here she was, alone and pregnant and hurting. He should have been here. RJ had been the one bright in the months that followed Rick's death, the one sign that life went on. Even if Michonne didn't want to. He had forced her to keep moving. Him and Judith as those two constants in her life, proof that there was life. She would fight for her children, both living and dead and she would live for the memory of Rick who had smiled over his shoulder at her as he left that final morning, eyes blue as the sky and smile warm.

She would escort the strangers to Hilltop, offer them aid without giving away too much. They could earn their keep there. It was all she could do. As the kids slept, she continued working. Eugene's radio project was his latest interest and she had agreed to help him with it when she had time to spare. It was mostly silent, unable to pick up any range of contact. At one point someone had gotten through, but their voice was too muffled and staticky to be of any use. It seemed like a fool's job, but it kept Eugene occupied.

Life was continuing and growing. Perhaps not in the way Rick had envisioned, but Alexandria would survive. Alexandria would not fall. She would not allow it. She would keep the prisoner fed, she would keep Judith and RJ safe and she would continue leading her people, and she would leave that space in the bed, empty and waiting for a body who would never fill it again.