A/N: You guysss. So many awesome comments. I laughed so hard at everyone telling Jessie to worry about her kids. All I could picture was that little girl in her car seat, saying, "Worry about yourself!" charrrmed, I honestly cackled when you said Jessie could only save someone by accident. An actual cackle.
I also had to laugh at you guys mentioning Michonne as the VP, because that totally crossed my mind. But after years of watching Veep, it's in my head that the VP is actually useless, and I was like nah, lol. Whereas the First Lady (*cough* Nancy Reagan *cough*) is really in charge. I had a whole exchange between Rick and Michonne about Nancy, Hillary, and Michelle, but I took it out because it was just too long and now I wish I'd kept it! But yeah, I get it. I'm with you!
reneicygirl, I'm about 100% sure you won't have to endure any traumatizing sex scenes in this here story. I could never! I'm scared of what the show is gonna hurl at us, and I'm not saying I won't imply it here (not saying I will either!) but you will surely not have to read it. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit, just thinking about it, lol.
sleepywitchysamurai, girl don't ever apologize for rambling! I love it! And you are right on with everything you said. It's such a relief that all you guys are picking up what I'm trying to convey. They're both a little oblivious, but very slowly figuring out that this is more than just a BFF relationship. But as usual, with everything else going on, it's hard to even focus on the fact that feelings are forming and/or have already formed. I'm really excited to explore more of that intimacy, particularly in Chapter 6, I think. As for your question about Morgan, Rick is just tired of that non-violent mentality in this world. He went through it himself, then with Tyreese, and now Morgan. As Michonne said, you can't let someone live if they're trying to kill you. It's just a silly stance to take. And he loves Morgan, so he doesn't wanna argue, but he just doesn't agree. But we'll also see more of that, I wanna say in the next chapter.
I know this is a lot of talking. I'm the one sorry for rambling, haha. But I just wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you all for your feedback. It made my week! (Also, I am working on an update for We Don't Die, but I have no clue when that'll be done. Got a bit of writer's block going on there.) ILY guys! - Ash
Chapter 4: Fighting
Michonne was the last to take her seat at the dinner table, and she smiled at her companions proudly as she looked upon her masterpiece - red beans and rice with cornbread to complement, as promised. Carol, Daryl, and Carl all looked at her expectantly, while Judith stared hungrily at her brother's plate.
"Should we wait for Rick?" Carol wondered, glancing out of the nearest window one last time.
"No," Michonne shook her head, waving off the notion. "He may have had an emergency to tend to." That didn't stop her from glancing at the door herself, somewhat hoping he'd find his way home just in time to join them. But no such luck. "I don't want our food to get cold."
Daryl took that as an invitation to dive in, and he did exactly that. The remaining three hesitantly began their meals, but couldn't help but wonder just where the hell their friend and father had disappeared to.
"This is fantastic," Carol eventually announced, her mouth full of food. "Goodness."
"Michonne's been holding out on us," Carl agreed as he offered Judith a spoonful of rice.
Daryl looked up from his half finished plate, taking a sip of wine as he gazed at their chef for the evening. "Where you learn to cook like this?"
She smiled cheekily in reply, pleased that they were pleased. "I've been on my own since I was sixteen," she shrugged nonchalantly. "If I hadn't learned to cook, I would've starved."
"You mean you didn't live on ramen noodles and grilled cheese like most college students?" Carol smirked at her.
"Oh, I did," Michonne chuckled. "And after growing up on my dad and grandmothers' food, it was a rude awakening. I swear, I just woke up one day like, 'Yeah, no. I have to learn to cook.'"
Carl and Carol laughed out loud as Daryl scraped his plate clean. "Well lucky for us you did," he said. "There's more of where this came from, I hope."
"There's plenty on the stove," Michonne nodded. "Just save some for Rick, okay?"
"He shoulda been here," he shot back, already on his way towards the kitchen.
She shook her head in response as she fed Judith some of her own food. Mostly rice, with a couple of beans to see how she liked them. The baby quickly chewed and swallowed her food, and instantly reached out for more. Michonne smiled happily, reminded of the way Andre reacted to her cooking, always looking for another bite. And red beans were his favorite. It was the perfect toddler meal, soft and filling.
"Even Judy likes it," Carl commented, looking on. He put a few smushed pieces of cornbread on her tray for her to enjoy as well.
"And lord knows that baby has gotten picky in the past few weeks," Carol submitted, observing her with a small smile as well. "It's like we got to Alexandria and she forgot she was born in a prison."
"Aww," Michonne grinned at Carol and then back at the baby. "She just upgraded her tastes a little. That's okay."
"She ain't the only one," Daryl said, returning to the table with a small mountain of food on his plate. "I ain't eatin' anymore beans out a can after this."
"Let's hope we don't have to," Carol agreed, continuing her dinner. "I could really eat this everyday, Michonne."
"I'm glad you like it," she returned genuinely.
"Michonne said she's gonna try to make us some jambalaya, too," Carl announced to the room, clearly happy about the idea.
"I said maybe," she reminded him. "I'd really like to make gumbo, but those both seem like a longshot."
"Aaron said they went out to Virginia Beach last summer, caught some fish," Daryl inserted casually. "Oughta be some shrimp out there if we're willin' to look."
"Oh my god," Carol's eyes brightened excitedly. "Seafood would be amazing."
"No kidding," Michonne agreed. Her mouth was watering just thinking about it. "We have to get to a shore before summer is out."
"We can get that set up," Daryl promised with a nod. "Once we get all this other shit taken care of, it ain't nothin' to ride out to Chesapeake Bay."
"And Maryland was known for their crabs," Carol added. "Can you imagine? Fresh crab?"
Michonne rolled her eyes in delight. "I actually can't," she joked.
"I never liked seafood and shellfish before," Carl shook his head. He gave Judith another spoonful of beans and rice before adding, "But I'd basically kill for it now."
"Let's hope we don't have to kill for it," she chuckled in response.
The table went into comfortable silence as they all continued to consume their meals, but it wasn't long before they heard the sound of the door opening, and Rick walked in slowly, tiredly. He was trying to suppress a yawn as he entered the dining area, where his kids and housemates were all staring back at him now.
"Hey," he greeted them coolly. He took a glance at the table, realizing that he was not only late for dinner, but Michonne had been the one to cook. "Looks like I'm late to the party."
"You are," Carol said, eyeing him carefully. He looked clean as a whistle, so she could guess that he wasn't late due to walker duty. "Where have you been?"
"Oh, I got caught up next door at Jessie's," he said, shaking his head as if it were no big deal. "Sam had this computer game that wouldn't work, and I wasted all this time tryin' to figure out what the hell was wrong with it… turned out, it needed a new battery."
Daryl continued to inhale his food, while Michonne took a sip of wine, and Carol quirked an eyebrow at the information. "What were you doing over there in the first place?"
He shrugged and moved towards Carl's side of the table, taking a piece of his cornbread for himself before leaving a quick kiss on the top of Judy's head. "I try to check on her before I come home in the evenings," he revealed. "Make sure she's all right, doesn't need anything."
"That's nice of you."
"She's been through a lot this past week, and she's takin' it like a champ. Figure it's the least I can do."
"Did you see Ron?" Carl asked, craning his neck up to see his father. "Is he doing okay?"
"I didn't see him," Rick denied, brushing his son's hair from his face. "But Jessie did say he'll be back in class tomorrow."
"Sweet."
"You should eat," Michonne cut in to tell Rick. She no longer wanted to hear about Jessie or her family, and she found herself annoyed by the fact that he was late to dinner because he'd been over there, instead of with his own family. "There's a clean plate already set out for you. Rice is in the left pot, beans are on the right."
"If Daryl didn't take them all," Carl joked.
"Hey, the shit was good," Daryl shot back, sitting back in his chair to alleviate his full stomach. "You shoulda been here."
"That's fair," Rick had to admit, though he knew they were joking. "Anybody need anything while I'm in the kitchen?"
"More wine," Michonne said, finishing what little she had left and then holding out her glass. "Fill it up."
He reached out to take the glass and nodded back at her with a small smile. "Yes, ma'am."
Carol, along with a very sleepy Judith, brought Rick the last remaining dish from dinner, but her gaze was on Michonne, outside on the back patio. She'd gone out there after she finished eating nearly thirty minutes ago, and seemed to be staring into oblivion.
"Is she okay?" she decided to ask Rick, though she wasn't sure he'd have any clue. She knew from experience that he could be oblivious when it came to other people's feelings.
For the third time that night, he glanced out to where she sat, shaking his head. "I imagine so." He turned from the back door and pulled the last few dishes into the sink. "It's hard to tell with her sometimes."
"She seemed… annoyed once you came in," Carol had noticed. "Everything's okay with the two of you?"
"We're good," he nodded, figuring he knew at least that much. "Maybe she's just a little on edge about whatever this coup is supposed to be."
"It's been two days and we haven't heard a peep. Maybe it's supposed to be nothing," she said, switching Judith to her other hip. "Maybe he didn't get the support he thought he had."
"Maybe," Rick agreed. "But there's no way to know. And Michonne is cautious."
"More cautious than you?" Carol simpered.
"She can be," he smirked back. "I dunno if that's what's wrong. I don't know if anything is wrong. But it could be."
She nodded, but that answer didn't seem right, didn't feel right. It was clear that Michonne was perfectly fine until Rick walked in the door. "Did you maybe promise you'd be home at a certain time tonight?"
Rick looked at her in confusion as he placed the clean dishes on the drying rack. "No…"
Which likely meant that Michonne wasn't a fan of Rick coming home late due to being with Jessie. In which case, Carol did not want to get involved in whatever that meant. "Well, I'll just assume that you know her better than I do."
"I think that's an accurate statement," he chuckled, sending another glance her way. "I was gonna check on her once I finished in here," he promised.
"I think that's a good idea," she nodded. "Sometimes, we hurt people's feelings without even knowing."
He nodded back at her, though a bit puzzled by the statement. But he could tell that something was likely bothering Michonne, and that never sat well with him. "I got it, Carol."
"I hope you do," she finished, a bit ominous in her tone. "I'll see you in the morning."
Rick watched the two of them disappear from the kitchen and stared at the stove, where he had two big pots left to clean before he was done with his task. But he was much more interested in what was going on outside, so he dropped his dishtowel, turned off the water, and headed for the back door to check on his friend.
Michonne didn't turn at the sound of the door opening, knowing that it was Rick. She could pinpoint the sound of him walking in those boots from a mile away. Could picture his slow gait without needing to see it. She could hear him walking towards her, and she sighed, not sure whether she wanted to engage with him at the moment.
He plopped down on the bench, just next to her, and looked out to the wall that she seemed to be fixated on. "You okay?" he questioned softly.
She sat back, crossing one leg over the other, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm fine."
"Just out here staring into oblivion for no reason?"
"I'm enjoying the evening," she retorted evenly. "It's nice out here."
"It is," he agreed, sitting back with her. "Quiet…"
"Well, it was."
He gazed at the side of her face, wondering why and how she seemed annoyed and at peace at the same time. "Am I bothering you?"
"No," she closed her eyes. "I'm just thinking too much."
"You wanna share?"
"No," she smiled, looking back at him now. "It's petty."
"Well I'm fine with petty," he offered with a small smile in return. "We don't have to just talk about the big, bad stuff all the time."
"But we usually do." She crossed her leg towards him now. "I think you prefer it that way. I know I do."
"Since when?"
"Since… I dunno," she shrugged. "Seems safer that way."
He frowned at the idea that the two of them having less serious conversations could somehow be dangerous. "Safe from what?"
She wanted to tell him it was the best way to keep from getting her feelings hurt, but she knew it was a silly sentiment. Rick had every right to do whatever he wanted with Jessie. And if she were being honest, it was a good thing that he cared enough to watch over her. Things like that were why she trusted Rick in the first place. "I've had a lot of wine," she sighed. "I don't know what I'm talking about."
"That's a copout," he chuckled knowingly. He stretched his arm behind her head, and let his head lazily fall back against the bench, staring up at the sky. "But that's fine. I'd rather stay under the illusion that we're as close as I think we are."
"It's not illusion," she chuckled lightly, hitting his thigh. "I'm just not in a sharing mood tonight, I guess."
"That's fine," he repeated. "Silence is better sometimes, anyway."
"It is," she whispered.
"But if it's me that's bothering you, I hope you'll let me know at some point."
"It's me," she assured him. She repositioned on the seat so that her back was facing him, and nestled against him, using his arm as a headrest. "We're fine."
"You're not sick, are you? Because I killed the only doctor we had."
"Jesus, Rick," she coyly chuckled at his grim sense of humor – something they shared, it seemed, because she often found him funny.
"I'm just sayin', don't go gettin' sick on me," he went on jokingly. "I need you at a hundred percent."
"You do need me, don't you," she grinned sleepily. His warm arm was the perfect pillow against her cheek.
He turned his head her way, studying the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed softly. Those perfect shoulders of hers, always drawing his attention. He wanted to reach out and touch them so badly, and he wasn't even sure why. "I do…"
"Well," she sighed lightly, thankful that he was there in that moment, even if he hadn't been earlier, "you think about that next time you're late to another one of my dinners."
He let out a light chuckle through his nose and let his head fall back again. He could've fallen asleep right then, right there, in the comfort of Michonne's presence. "Yes, ma'am."
The next afternoon, after another peaceful morning without a coup, Michonne and Judith were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying leftovers for lunch, when Carl came bursting through the front door. He had only been gone to class for about thirty minutes, so Michonne knew that something had to be wrong.
"Carl?" she called out to him. She didn't leave her spot, not wanting to leave Judith unsupervised, but waited for him to appear.
"It's me," he confirmed. He slowly walked into the kitchen with a scowl on his face, and his hair and clothes completely disheveled.
Michonne's eyes widened at the sight of him, wondering if he'd gone somewhere other than class. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Ron Anderson," he grumbled angrily. "We got in a fight and Mrs. Neidermeyer sent us home."
"Why were you fighting?" she questioned, approaching him to examine him. Besides a ripped shirt and some red cheeks, he seemed no worse for wear. "What happened?"
"Because he's an asshole."
She refrained from chiding him for his language, but looked at him knowingly. "Just yesterday, you were excited about him coming back to class," she reminded him. "What could've gone wrong so quickly?"
"He called me and my dad ignorant hicks. Said the only reason Dad killed Pete was so he could sleep with his mom, and he was like, 'So who's really the bad guy here?' It was so messed up, the way he said it," he explained, shaking his head. "He was even mean to Enid. It's like he hates us all." He wiped at his cheeks, as if he could wipe the anger away. "Me, most of all."
"He's hurting," she sighed, trying to brush his hair back into place. "You can't take it personally."
"It was really personal, though. Like, he pointed out how Dad is always at his house, flirting with a widow. And what could I say?"
"He's trying to make sure she's all right," Michonne rebutted in his defense, though even she knew it was a weak stance. "I don't know."
"I didn't know either," Carl shrugged. "So I just punched him."
"You're more like your father than I thought," she tried to joke, but a knock at the door interrupted their conversation. "Stay here with your sister," she said, already having a good idea of who it would be. She quickly headed for the front, where Jessie and Ron were, indeed, visible in the window. With a big sigh, she pulled the door open, smiling comfortingly at them both. "Hey."
"Hey," Jessie sent an apologetic grin back. "Is Rick home?"
"He's at the quarry on a supply run," Michonne shook her head. She glanced at Ron, who had a bloody nose, and realized the fight might have been a little worse than Carl's lack of injuries led her to believe. "You all right?"
He just nodded, while Jessie remained behind her son, holding his shoulders. "I'm really sorry about this," she offered to Michonne instead. "Ron told me he said things he shouldn't have."
"It's fine," she smiled back. "You guys have been through a lot. I wish Carl could've been a little more understanding."
"Boys will be boys, right?"
Michonne had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the silly phrase and nodded. "It's gotta be hard for all these kids. "
"The adults too," Jessie sighed softly. "Would it be okay to talk to Carl then? I did want Ron to apologize."
"Sure," Michonne allowed, turning to call for the teenager. "Carl!" The three of them waited for him to appear, holding Judith, and Michonne took the toddler from him as he stepped towards the porch. "Ron wanted to speak with you," she revealed, moving out of the way of their exchange.
"Go on," Jessie whispered to her son, pushing him forward.
He removed the washcloth he had covering his nose and glared at Carl. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"You're sorry for what," his mother prodded.
"I'm sorry your dad's an asshole," he said sarcastically. "I know the feeling."
"Ron!"
Carl scoffed and looked back at Michonne, silently questioning whether he could go back inside, while Ron looked back at his mother with disdain.
"That's the best I can do," he shrugged.
Jessie's face was red with embarrassment, and she looked at both Carl and Michonne like a deer in headlights. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Michonne promised, understanding the kid's anger. "We can try this again when they've cooled off a little. Maybe when Rick gets home."
"This is just so inexcusably rude," she shook her head. "I don't know what to say..."
Her words trailed into silence when they realized they were hearing a strange sound ringing throughout the community. Gunshots. Just one at first. Then another. And then they began to come in a succession, loud and uninterrupted. It could have been someone taking down walkers at the gate. Someone that clearly wasn't Sasha, who had a silencer on her rifle. But that didn't feel like what it was.
"Get inside," Michonne instructed the three of them immediately. She pulled her walkie-talkie from her belt clip as she carefully inched across the porch to try and get a view of the front. "What the hell was that?" she questioned for anyone that could hear.
The gunshots continued, until finally, Maggie came through on the other end. "We've got visitors," she said quickly. "They're tryin' to get in."
"Visitors makes it sound like people," Michonne replied, confused; hopeful that she meant walkers.
Rick's voice came over the transmitter, sounding more frantic than she ever wanted to hear. "I need you up here now," he said emphatically. "With a gun."
"Shit," she whispered to herself. At least Rick was back, she figured, but things sounded dire. "I'm on my way," she told him, already back inside the house. She instinctively grabbed her katana, but also moved quickly to unlock their weapon supply closet, and picked out a couple of rifles to bring with her.
"What's going on?" Jessie approached her, having heard Rick over the walkie. "More walkers?"
"I honestly don't think so," Michonne replied distractedly. She ran into the kitchen to give Carl his instructions, more concerned with him than anything Jessie was saying. "I need you to get in my room, get the rifle in my closet, and keep your sister safe," she told him. "Don't come out until someone you trust comes to get you."
"I won't," he promised.
"You two should stay here," she directed to Jessie and Ron. "Carl can protect you."
"No, I have to get Sam," Jessie answered worriedly. "I left him home, thinking we'd be right back."
"I'll send him this way on my way out," Michonne assured her, softly squeezing her arm. "I'll make sure he gets here."
"Please do," Jessie begged.
She handed Carl her radio and sighed heavily, hating to leave him on his own like this. "Keep your eyes peeled, and you use that if you see anything strange back this way, all right?"
"Got it," he nodded again, understanding that she was trusting him with a big task here. He watched as Michonne made a beeline out of the house, and he turned back for his guests, now responsible for keeping them out of the line of fire. "We should get upstairs," he directed them confidently.
Before anyone could respond, Daryl came trampling down the steps in a groggy confusion, both due to the gunshots, and the two extra people in his home. "What the hell's goin' on," he asked Carl.
He shrugged in reply. "Michonne just took off running towards the gates to find out."
Without another word, he grabbed his crossbow from the top of the supply closet and headed out of the door, just as Sam came running up the porch. It was officially just Carl, Judith, and the Andersons. Jessie looked around in disbelief that she had to rely on Rick's son to protect her.
"I've done this before," he said reassuringly, reading her mind. "I've been through enough attacks to know how these things go."
Jessie nodded, feeling a bit childlike as she and her sons followed Carl up to Michonne's room. She realized then that she had never been this far into Rick's home before, and it gave her a strange feeling. She wished he were home, so it wouldn't feel as if she were intruding on him. But she was so curious. Everything about him intrigued her. This cowboy sheriff, with a family that looked like one of those old school Benetton ads, all of them expert survivors.
She watched Carl move around the room that Michonne called her own, and pull out a large rifle, as well as two handguns. He put one of them in his back pocket and then approached her with the other.
"You ever shot a gun before?" he asked.
She nodded as she accepted the small pistol.
"Good," he sighed. "We'll try not to use them, but if the gunshots get close, you'll have to keep it handy."
Ron looked on, somewhat awed by the fact that Carl was younger than him, yet so much more capable. "Your dad taught you all this?" he wondered out loud.
Carl looked at him cautiously, wary of Ron even speaking of his father. "I've learned a little from everyone I know," he decided to answer. "My dad's best friend taught me how to shoot. My dad taught me when and who to shoot. He did the whole 'with great power comes great responsibility' thing." He began to check the ammo for his rifle as he walked towards the window near the corner. "Michonne taught me why it's okay. And Daryl taught me how to hide, how to camouflage myself so I'm the hunter. It's not just as easy as pointing a gun."
Ron nodded, figuring this was shy Enid had taken an interest in Carl in the first place. He was the same as her – both products of the outside. Something he knew nothing about. "That's cool," he answered genuinely. "Wish I had that."
"Well, maybe if we're ever friends again, I could help train you."
"Should we just sit anywhere?" Jessie cut in, unsure what to do with herself. She felt so uncomfortable there in Michonne's room.
"I'd say sit near the closet, just in case you need to hide quickly," he instructed. He pulled his baby sister from Michonne's bed and took a seat in the corner nearest the closet, while Jessie and her kids took the opposite one. And that would be how they would wait.
Hours passed, and the gunshots continued, with no signs of stopping, and no one coming to update them on the status at the front gates. They'd nodded in and out of sleep, read books, entertained Judith, but Carl, Jessie, Ron, and Sam were truly bored.
"Kinda thought being attacked would be more exciting," Sam commented from beside his mother.
"The alternative is being dead," Ron reminded him. "Chill, dude."
"Ron…" Jessie scolded him.
"I'm just being honest."
"You've been honest enough for one day," she yawned. "Just be quiet."
He silently obeyed, returning to his task of trying to find sleep, while Carl stared out of the window, noticing that a couple of walkers were starting to make their way down the street. There were too few to start panicking, so he purposely decided against telling Jessie and her kids, but he did have to wonder what was going on out there. He was just about to sneak into the closet and ask over the walkie-talkie, but the sound of the front door stopped him.
"Carl!" Rick's voice was followed by the slam of the front door, and his footsteps on the staircase.
"Dad!" he called out in relief. He quickly popped up from the floor and met his dad in the doorway of Michonne's room.
"Hey, everything okay?" he questioned, glancing into the room. Judith was crawling towards him, while Jessie and her boys sat near the door, looking up at him. "Hey," he greeted her.
"What's going on out there?" she wondered, standing from the floor as well. "It sounds like a massacre."
"Some group decided to try and get in here," he explained, wiping tiredly at his face. He picked Judy up from the floor and the two of them took a seat on Michonne's bed. "Call themselves 'Wolves,'" he shook his head. "Had Carol at gunpoint, trying to threaten their way in, just as Abraham and I were coming back from the quarry."
"My god. Is Carol okay?"
"She's fine," he sighed in relief. "Everyone's fine, so far. But we found out one of them had pictures of this place, from Aaron's backpack, so… We've got an idea of where they came from, but no clue how many of them there are."
"What do they want in here for?" Carl asked, taking a seat next to his dad. "They wanna live here?"
"I honestly don't know," he answered hoarsely. "I was done askin' questions two hours ago."
"Is it safe to come out now?" Sam asked hopefully.
"Well, not quite yet," he said regretfully. "I just wanted to check on you all, make sure the neighborhood was all right."
"Why wouldn't we be?" Ron frowned.
"There's now a truck-sized hole in the front wall, so a few walkers have gotten in," he admitted cautiously.
"Rick," Jessie retorted in a panic. "Are you kidding me?"
"I need you to stay calm," his expression pleaded with her. He couldn't handle having to protect someone that wasn't even in danger at the moment; not with everything else going on. "Look at me, Jessie. I'm calm, right?"
She nodded, but it was clear that she was still terrified. "We're okay?"
"You're fine," he promised. "Carl's got you."
"You're not staying?" Her scared hazel eyes were begging him to say otherwise. "You can't leave me here."
"I have to get back out there and help," he stood from the bed to meet her gaze. "You've gotten through the worst part. Just hold on a little bit longer."
She rubbed her face in frustration, resisting the urge to cry. She couldn't do that in front of Rick, not when he had so much to deal with. It was bad enough she was stuck in this room, with children, while all the adults took care of the threat. She had to pull it together. "Okay," she nodded at him, feigning confidence.
He gave his daughter and son quick forehead kisses, and moved towards the closet to grab more ammo. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said to Carl.
Jessie didn't miss how familiar Rick was in Michonne's room, which only made her feel even more displaced. She wanted to leave more than anything. "Please hurry," she said. "And be careful out there."
He was halfway out the door as he replied, "I will."
Rick was making his way back to the wall, fighting through the few walkers that had made it inside, when he saw that Daryl was running in his direction. "What's wrong," Rick demanded, noticing the look of anguish on his friend's face.
He shook his head, letting him know that things on their side were fine. "Some of 'em got away," he said, referring to the Wolves. "Bunch of us are gonna go after 'em."
"I'll come, too," he offered, jogging to join him.
"Michonne said you need to stay," Daryl countered, finally stopping in the street. "We got more than enough folks."
"She's goin'?" he frowned.
"Her, me, Abe, Sasha, Glenn, Heath, Nick..."
"That's damn near everybody."
"She said you, Carol, Maggie, Morgan could handle things here. Just in case some of 'em come back."
"Morgan?" Rick didn't understand why she needed to go if so many others were. He took off running for the front, hoping to talk her out of it, or at least get her reasoning for it. He and Daryl reached the front gates just in time to watch Abraham park Aaron's RV against the wall, covering the breach. And Michonne was on the other side, directing the job.
She could already see the look of defiance on Rick's face as he approached her. That stupid walk of his, trying to distract her from her task. "I'm not arguing with you about this, Rick. You need to stay."
"When did we decide this?" he squinted, taking the spot beside her.
"If I recall correctly, your excuse last time was that you owed Carol," she smirked. "It's my turn this time."
"So we're takin' turns risking our lives? Is that it?"
"Well, we can't both go," she reminded him. It was an agreement they'd come to back in Georgia, and she had every intention of keeping it. "And you really should be here for the rest of the people that are probably scared to death right now."
"You don't have to go, you know," he offered. "They've got plenty of people."
She gave him a knowing glance, the two of them stepping back and out of Abraham's way.
"You're really gonna leave me here, huh?"
"You've got Carol. You'll be fine."
He nodded, smirking at the fact that he knew he was never going to be able to talk her out of it in the first place. "Hurry back, all right?" he said, squeezing her shoulder. "And be careful out there."
She smiled back at him, just as Sasha pulled up in the truck they'd be taking on their mission. "Yes, sir."
From the Monroe household, Ethan Carter and Spencer Monroe had been watching the day's events unfold, careful to stay incognito as they observed. Watching the way Rick and his people fought, noting their many strengths, trying to find their weaknesses, the cracks in their armor.
They hadn't come up with much – this was a tough group, to say the least. But… things had winded down considerably, and from what they could tell, that group had suddenly fractured. Half of them had left the property, leaving Rick Grimes alone and vulnerable. In fact, they had the luxury of watching him walk back towards him home, all by himself.
Ethan moved from the window for the first time in hours, and turned back to his partner in crime with an excited glint in his eyes. "I gotta say, I'm feeling pretty good about this, man."
Spencer looked up at him curiously, hesitantly. "You're really sure you wanna do this?"
"He's basically got no one left but the cookie lady," he laughed. It was almost comical how easy this would be with so many of his people gone. "Now is the perfect time to strike."
