A/N: My apologies for taking so long with this chapter. This chapter when through some major rewrites as my dramatic/angsty side took over. I would have had it out yesterday, but SDCC 2016 took over my life. I hope you enjoy.
"Fucking criminals..."
How, Rick thought in that brief instant, did such a beautiful, captivating woman manage to enrage and arouse him all at once?
"Fucking bitch!" Peter gargled as he recovered from his blow to the head. Daryl and Sasha appeared at the door with Ms. Wilson just as Peter lunged for Michonne.
"God damn it, get them out of here!" Rick barked when Peter got his hands around Michonne, which ended in her viciously breaking his wrist before Glenn dove into the fray, with Sasha, Daryl, and Rick not far behind. Daryl led Abraham out of the room, Glenn wrestled with Peter, and Rick grabbed hold of Michonne, keeping her back while Sasha checked on the other two men.
"They're still alive," she called, swallowing hard when she saw the hand in the corner. "Jesus Christ, Rick..."
Rick looked down at Michonne, who was now looking up at him, stunned by the sudden intimacy and the instant physical reaction she had as their bodies brushed against each other. Her body became hot under his fierce blue eyes and her mind went blank for a second when she felt his entire body stiffened. Once again, Rick could not help but look down at her full lips, momentarily craving them, wondering what they tasted like, what they felt like.
"Rick," Sasha snapped, breaking them out of their reverie. The sheriff gently let go of Michonne and pointed to the door, slowly drowning in concern about his behavior and reactions to the outlaw.
"Take her out of here," he ordered softly, refusing to meet her gaze as a few more men gathered at the door, eyes wide in horror. "Hey! Either help get these assholes to the doctor or get the fuck away from the door!" He snarled, desperate to rid himself of those feelings again.
He monitored them as they rushed in to help the two unconscious men on the floor, using the bedsheets to hoist them out of the room. Ms. Wilson stood at the door, fussing about the blood stained wood floors and gun shots in the wall and ceiling. Rick ended up getting dragged into an argument with her that extended for an extra thirty minutes when Jesus and Tara finally managed to get up the stairs, demanding access to their belongings and defending the legality of several items found in the ruined room, including the jewels that legitimately belonged to Tara. Noah and Rosita had conspicuously disappeared from town, along with the two horses they had come in on. The deputies had not received word about the other two men that had been in the room other than they were still breathing. Neither Tara nor Jesus inquired about the whereabouts of Michonne or Abraham, which only served to raise Rick's suspicions. After a couple of threats, Rick forced them back down the stairs while he scrutinized the room.
"Daryl's got the jail locked down and Glenn's watching over the other two at the surgery," Sasha informed him when she finally returned to find Rick examining Michonne's katana with a faraway look in his eyes. "I caught sight of a couple of Cavanaugh's friends hangin' around outside. Daryl can handle it for now, but one of us is going to have to head back there soon."
Rick nodded slowly and set the blade down on the bed, motioning around the bloodstained room. "What do you make of all of this?" He asked quietly.
"Looks like a butcher shop," she offered with a crinkled nose.
"Looks like that gang is just as dangerous as the papers say they are."
"Looks like the Cavanaugh brothers got in over their heads," she contributed, drawing his attention. Noting his loss for words, she silently laughed to herself. "You don't honestly think Michonne and her group did this on purpose?"
"Is that what Cavanaugh is saying?" Rick asked and Sasha rolled her eyes.
"Between his bouts of 'black bitch' and 'large bastard', Peter Cavanaugh insists that Michonne lured him and his boys up into her room where she and the 'large bastard' ambushed them and attempted to rob them," she professed mockingly, betraying her own interpretation of the violent events.
"Did Michonne or her friend offer anything in the way of a response?" When she shook her head he released a sigh and began pacing the floor, frustrated by the events.
On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to turn the whole gang over to whatever authorities to the South were willing to claim them and be rid of his current problem. Michonne and her group would be out of their hair, Alexandria would return to normal, and Rick would not have to deal with the desires and thoughts about Michonne that flooded him at inopportune times. Their little town could go back to being somewhat boring and he could return to focusing exclusively on his children.
It was a simple solution marred by so many complications, the biggest being that he feared what would happen to Michonne's group should they be turned in, though he would never admit it. Despite his initial gaffe in telling the community about the reward, an action he was beginning to regret, he had deliberately withheld just how much each member of her gang was worth. The newspapers had informed the public of two hundred, dead or alive, but notices had been sent out to law enforcement about higher offers. These notices he concealed specifically because of the stupidity displayed that night. Somehow, deep down, he knew something like this was going to happen.
Then there were Rick's own issues. He was furious at Michonne and her group for causing so much trouble in such a short amount of time. He was livid that members of his town had attacked her. He felt guilt over his part in instigating the community's monetary interest in Michonne and her people, but also over the fact that he secretly liked the excitement. Despite the violence, it was a welcome change.
All of this led Rick questioning his own judgment and wondering what the best path was going forward. Regardless of who had actually started the fight, his community's fears were confirmed about how dangerous the Black Samurai and her marauders were. He would not be able to change that.
Catching Sasha's raised eyebrow, he rubbed his face and took in a ragged breath. "I need you to check on Glenn and do a perimeter check."
"Rick," Sasha moaned as she grabbed her rifle. "We still don't know what happened. You expect me to leave Daryl alone with them?"
Understanding her trepidation, Rick shook his head. "No, I want you to make sure people don't do anything foolish. Three people have already gone to post, so the words out that she's here. I just need to make sure no one tries anything else."
Sasha came over to stand next to Rick, eyeing him carefully. "So you think Cavanaugh's lying?" she asked pointedly and he scoffed. Sasha could see the frustration all over his face and knew he was already beating himself up for this. Even when something happened that he could not control, Sasha had always known him to unnecessarily shoulder the responsibility of it. She imagined that it was a way to avoid dealing with any actual guilt and other repressed emotions linked to his wife's death and his children.
"I told them to use their heads," he muttered.
"You also told 'em that there was a reward on her head." Rick looked over at her and she shrugged. "I listened after you told me to wait outside."
He sighed. "Yeah, and then they fucked up my town," he retorted, growing furious of the Cavanaugh's actions.
Sasha chuckled. "No Rick, you fucked up." The surprise on his face prompted her to offer him a knowing smile as her eyes flickered to the katana. "Five known outlaws came to this sleepy little town and instead of kickin' 'em out or turnin' 'em in, you let them stay. You told those pricks who Michonne and her group were and then you sat back and waited."
"I didn't want this to happen-"
"That's not what I said," she admonished, shutting him up as she shouldered her rifle and prepared to leave. "I know you didn't want anyone to get hurt… but Rick… you wanted something to happen. Ever since Lori died, that's all you've ever wanted." She pulled a Colt Pocket revolver out of the back of her pants and handed it to Rick. "And I think that's what Carl wanted to," she added with a pointed look. When Rick's eyes grew with realization, Sasha motioned to the weapon. "I think you need to talk to your son, Rick."
"Where did you find this?" he growled.
"Rick," his deputy began in exasperation.
"Sasha, where the hell-"
"Why don't you ask your son," Sasha coaxed before she turned to leave. "I need to get back to the jail before someone does something stupid."
Rick was quiet for a moment, glaring at the small gun in his hands. He had given it to Carl a couple of years after his mother had died with the promise that he would never let anyone take the gun away from him. The fact that Sasha had recovered it from one of the prisoners they hauled off to the jail only angered him once more. Grabbing the katana, he left the room to find Ms. Wilson still in the hallway, glaring down the stairs at Tara and Jesus.
"Sheriff Grimes!" She exclaimed. "You need to get these people out of here! They refuse to leave!"
"We want our things," Tara retorted angrily. "Sheriff, we have a right to our things! We did nothing wrong!"
Despite his growing rage at his recent discovery, Rick was admittedly surprised that a couple of known criminals had waited rather patiently for access to their room rather than just barge in. In the back of his mind he took note of it, but could not spare the energy needed to invest in this particular fight.
"Ms. Wilson, let them up, I'm done with the room," he muttered, moving past the woman.
She gasped indignantly and stamped her little foot down. "But-"
"Ms. Wilson, I don't have time for this," Rick snapped. "I told you to let them get their things. What you want to do after that is your business."
"I want them out of here!" She protested and he shrugged as he walked by Jesus and Tara.
"Then evict them," he relented over his shoulder. "Good night, Ms. Wilson!"
It took Rick fifteen minutes to get back to the small Grimes home. A crowd of angered Alexandrians who had received an over exaggeration from Ms. Wilson were gathered outside the jail as Rick made his way past. They tried to corner him, demanding explanations and insisting that Michonne be punished. Rick provided them with assurances that he was getting to the bottom of it, but refused give them anymore. He also warned them that if the jail was entered by anyone other than him or his deputies, he would be arresting more people. The crowd was cowed for the time being, but refused to budge, leaving Rick with little option but to trust that Daryl and Sasha would handle it. He needed to confront his son.
Carl jumped out of his bed when he heard the front door open and he listened as he heard the telltale clicks of his father's boots move across the wooden floor, determinedly making their way toward the stairs.
"Carl!" Rick bellowed, startling his son out of his bedroom.
"Judith's asleep," the teenager hushed, quickly making his way down the hall. "What's wrong?"
"Where have you been?" Rick demanded, too angry to worry about waking up his other child. It was clear to him that Carl had just washed up recently, his hair was damp and his boots, which Carl normally kept in the kitchen, were scrubbed clean.
"Dad-"
"Where have you been?" His father repeated, eyes narrowing as he set down the katana on the table.
"Here," Carl lied and instantly he could see his father did not believe him.
"Where were you?" Rick tried again, offering one last chance to fess up. Carl hesitated and his father slammed the young man's gun down on the table, effectively waking up Judith. Her soft cries for her father briefly softened Rick's approach, but not enough to let Carl off the hook. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his face wrinkling in frustration before he headed out of the kitchen. "Do not leave this house," he ordered gruffly, moving down the hall to the small room Carl shared with his sister. Judith was already up in her little bed, whimpering and holding out her arms for him. "Sorry Judith," he cooed, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her back out to the kitchen. Carl was standing on the other side of the table, fiddling with his gun, a strange look on his face. "Carl," Rick started.
"Are she and Abraham alright?" He interrupted, catching his father off guard with the concern in his voice.
"Why were you there, Carl?" Rick demanded quickly but quietly, rocking Judith back and forth in an attempt to get her back to sleep.
"It's not what you think-"
"I don't know what to think, Carl, your goddamn gun was found on a criminal after she ambushed-"
Carl's eyes widened and he swiftly shook his head. "She didn't ambush them, Dad," he protested, faltering only when his father motioned to Judith, who had just begun to nod off. Frustrated, Carl looked down at his gun and shifted in his spot. "They're not bad people, Dad. Cavanaugh and his brother are the ones who tried to rob them and hurt Abraham."
Rick was shocked by his son's defensive stance but he refused to listen until his own questions were answered.
"Carl, why the hell were you in that room in the first place?"
The young man looked unwilling at first to provide that information. Rick could see his son's conflict and silently wondered where this instant loyalty had come from. How had one woman managed to upend everything in such a short amount of time, including possibly compromising Carl.
"Carl!"
"We were just talking," Carl confessed. "They were telling me stories."
"But why? Why did you go there in the first place?"
"I was giving Michonne her sword."
"You shouldn't have been there at all! Carl, those people-"
"Those people protected me when Cavanaugh attacked them for no goddamn reason and tried to hurt them!" Carl shot back without a thought, waking Judith up again in the process.
"Jesus Christ, Carl," Rick grumbled, rocking the child gently on his hip. "Wait here."
"I don't have anything else to say," Carl responded defiantly, stopping his father from leaving. "Michonne and Abraham were protecting me and themselves and those assholes-"
"Carl," Rick hissed.
"The Cavanaughs deserved what they got," the young man continued, growing increasingly agitated by his father's stubborn anger. "Those people ain't the bad guys! Cavanaugh fucking-"
"Carl, that's enough!" Rick glanced down at Judith quickly before he continued. "You shouldn't have been there!"
"But-"
"No!" Rick was tired of this argument. "You could have been hurt, Carl!"
"Cavanagh-"
"I don't give a fuck about Peter Cavanagh and his goddamn brother," Rick snarled, pointing at his son. "You! I care about you, Carl! You could have been hurt and I never want that to happen! From now on, you are forbidden from getting anywhere near those criminals."
"They're not bad people!" Carl protested. "They were protecting me."
"This isn't up for discussion, Carl."
"This is bullshit!"
"Hey! Watch it!"
"Michonne's a good person, Dad."
"I think what happened proved that she's dangerous!"
"Why? Because she doesn't lay at the alter of your feet?" At this point there were tears in Carl's eye as he struggled to contain all of the emotions he had held in for years.
"This has nothing to do with me. You coulda been killed!"
Carl shifted in his spot. "They're not bad people," he insisted, almost pleadingly.
Judith squirmed in her father's arms and Rick shook his head. "That's enough, Carl."
"I'm not a child, Dad!" Carl snapped, his voice ringing in the kitchen as his father was startled into silence. "Ever since Judith was born, all you've done is treat me like a child and I'm tired of it!"
"Stop yelling," Judith cried suddenly, reaching out for her brother. "Carl! Carl, please!"
The two men stared at her, the tension diffused by the small child's distress. Swallowing hard, Carl tentatively approached his father and took Judith from him, holding her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly.
"No more yelling," she whimpered, causing Rick's heart to clench painfully while Carl moved to the door.
"Time for bed," he murmured soothingly.
"This conversation is not over," Rick called as the boy retreated to the back of the house. He heard the door slam shut and he slid down into a chair at the table, exhausted and overwhelmed by Carl's words. He placed his face in his hands, taking several deep breaths as he tried to think through his son's outburst.
For the past two years, his relationship with Carl had changed. While not tense, there had been moments where, in hindsight, he knew they had grown apart. Around a year ago, Carl had expressed interest in becoming a deputy, which Rick had aggressively shot down. A few months after that, Carl had requested an apprenticeship position with a master craftsman several hundred miles away, but Rick had again refused, insisting that the boy stay put in Alexandria. Over the past couple of months, he had observed Carl growing restless with the routine, but Rick preferred to avoid thinking about it. The idea of his son leaving home terrified him beyond belief, but now, with Michonne's presence clearly sparking some rebellion, Rick could not help but wonder if his initial stance was too harsh. Carl rarely made friends, the last one having ended with a gunshot to the face. It was another reason for Rick's protectiveness, but also led Rick to question his own words about her being dangerous. If Carl was so willing to stand up for her and her gang, there had to be something to it.
Taking another deep breath, Rick looked up at the katana and for a moment he contemplated giving up for the night and retiring to bed, retreating from the world for a couple of hours. But her face continued to flash before his eyes and after a second he groaned, standing up.
"Fuck," he breathed, snatching the katana off of the table and heading out the door. "Fuck!"
For reasons he refused to acknowledge or address, Michonne had successfully wormed her way into his mind and no amount of retreating was going to change that.
There was something reprehensible about seeing a freed slave pace the splintered wooden floor of the weathered jail cell, bare feet growing raw with every passing moment. It had been a few hours since Michonne and Abraham had been brought in from the hotel and placed in different cells, separated by a thin wall. Several minutes after their arrival, Peter was dragged in by Glenn and Daryl, still bleeding profusely from his mangled face and spewing racial epithets through broken teeth. There was a brief altercation when he caught sight of Michonne as they tried to put him in the third cell. Daryl threatened to break his other wrist before they managed to shove him into the cell. Glenn made sure Daryl was set before he left to check on the other two attackers.
"Fucking bitch," Peter mumbled for the seventh time from his cot, moaning in pain as he gripped his crudely bandaged hand.
Michonne ignored him, continuing her fevered movements as she waited for the deputies to return. The crowd that followed them from the hotel had dissipated over the last hour, leaving it eerily quiet outside as they moved into the early hours of the next morning. Daryl was glad when Sasha returned to help keep an eye on the prisoners and ensure no one retaliated. Abraham had spent the first twenty minutes obfuscating while answering their questions before he lay down on his cot and listened to Michonne shift around restlessly. He knew her anxiety about their current situation, but resisted the urge to talk to her, especially with their attacker in the other cell.
Michonne knew that the others were handling things on the outside. She had no doubt there would be some setbacks, but she hoped it would not be too damaging to their plans. Abraham was likely right about the week they had, if not less, given some of the looks they had received. She had to get to the Hilltop as soon as she could and she hoped the man she was looking for had not left. She could not afford another setback. They had been on the road for a long time in service to her vendetta. It would do her no favors to push them further when she had promised rest after this.
It was five in the morning when Rick finally arrived at the jail. He had stopped by the doctor to check on Glenn and the other two attackers before making his way over, giving him enough time to calm down and gather his thoughts. The longer he dwelled on Carl's words, the more sure he was, however reluctantly, of how he had to proceed.
"What's going on?" Sasha asked, getting up from her desk when Rick walked in.
"The other two are stable," he answered, placing Michonne's katana on his desk. "Glenn's watching them."
"They say anything?" Daryl inquired from his chair in the corner, keeping an eye on the door and the cells from his vantage point.
"Nothing worth repeating," Rick muttered irritability, rubbing his face as he sighed. "Said the whole thing was their fault."
"Yeah, I told you," Sasha murmured, glancing over at the cells Abraham and Michonne occupied. "They haven't said a word."
Rick walked over to get a better view of the cells and frowned when he saw Michonne stalking the small area, hands on her hips, head down, eyes closed. In spite of what he had seen at the hotel, with the dismemberment and blood, and after his argument with Carl, he could not help but be captivated by how beautiful she was. Sasha's swearing shook him out of that intense desire and he turned to see the young woman setting down the katana, sucking her finger in pain.
"That thing is sharp," she gasped while Daryl laughed, offering her a clean cloth to wrap her finger. "Thank you."
Daryl caught the strange look in Rick's eyes and sat up straighter in his chair. "What are you thinking?"
Rick met his gaze and sighed.
"Hey! Release me! I didn't do anythin'!" Peter yelped suddenly, banging on the bars to draw their attention. "Hey!"
"Shut up!" Daryl growled, standing up so that only the other deputies could hear him. "Rick, what're we gonna do about them? About the whole gang? They ain't got anywhere to go now, according to Sasha and that crowd earlier didn't look to happy..."
Daryl had seen the anger and fear in the crowd's eyes when they had led Abraham and Michonne out of the hotel, followed closely by their wounded attackers. He knew Peter had a couple of friends who clearly had not participated in the attack and he had spotted them lurking around the jail even after the crowds had dispersed. Sasha informed him about leaving Tara and Jesus behind at the hotel to pack up their things after Ms. Wilson insisted on kicking them out, unyielding to any protest the two attempted to provide. Daryl did not know where they planned on going but he knew he needed to get a handle on this mess before the sun came up.
"Daryl, I need you to go back to the hotel," Rick whispered. "If the other members of her group are still there, bring 'em back here."
"You want to arrest them?" Sasha interjected worriedly and Rick shook his head in assurance.
"No," he told them quietly. "We're gonna release them."
"Now?" She questioned while Daryl glanced over at cells to see Peter still glaring at them from behind the bars.
"In a bit," Rick confirmed. "I need to clarify a few things first. And we need to make arrangements to make sure nothing else like this happens again." Daryl nodded, grabbed his gun and crossbow, and left the building quietly. Rick turned his attention to Sasha.
"You talked to Carl," Sasha smiled knowingly and he sighed.
"Yeah… He said that the Cavanaughs attacked them."
Sasha could see that the sheriff was upset about something and she touched his arm. "What's wrong?"
"Why didn't you just tell me that Michonne had the gun?" He inquired softly and she laughed.
"Rick, I saw the way you looked at her back at the hotel," she admitted. "You were in no position to confront her about this." She tilted her head to the side. "Besides, you and Carl were overdue for a discussion."
Rick could not help but chuckle a bit. Sasha's perception and bluntness were aspects that he had immediately liked about her when they first met several years ago. It was the main reason he had requested that she join the deputies and she never failed to be honest with him, even when he was loathe to admit it. As painful as his argument with Carl had been, the longer he had to think about his son's words, the more he was thankful for the opportunity to hear them.
"Why don't you go relieve Glenn," he suggested and she snorted, grabbing her things.
"Yeah," was all she offered as she made her way to the door.
"Sasha." She stopped and turned slightly to Rick. "Thank you."
She nodded curtly and left. Rick stared at the door for a moment before turning to face the cells. He checked his watch and sighed. The town would be waking up soon and no doubt some people would make their way back to the jail, feeling entitled to some answers. He knew Daryl would be back soon with the rest of Michonne's gang, or at least Tara and Jesus. If they had not abandoned town like the other two.
Steeling himself, Rick headed over to Michonne's cell and tapped the bars, capturing the attention of all three prisoners.
"You and I need to talk," he indicated gruffly, taking out his keys to open the cell door.
"Hey! You're not releasing that nigger-"
"Peter, I swear to God, if you don't shut the fuck up," Rick warned while Abraham stepped up to his bars to get a better look at what was happening.
"That bitch-"
Rick moved away from Michonne's cell to Peter's, eyes filled with hatred. "My son was in that room, you piece of shit, and you knew it," he snarled. "I couldn't care less about them, but you coulda hurt my boy."
"Sheriff, that was them-"
Rick pulled out his gun and pointed it straight at the man's heart, prompting him to throw his hands up and back away from the bars. "If you say one more goddamn word, I'm gonna come in there, break the rest of your fucking teeth, and watch you choke on them."
Satisfied with Peter's muteness, Rick returned to Michonne, who was now standing by the cell door, waiting to be released. Their eyes connected and Rick's heart skipped a beat while the argument he had with Carl came rushing back to him, flooding him with conflicting emotions. Even with Lori he had not felt such an instant connection and attraction to one person and it terrified him. Michonne was momentarily taken aback by the intensity in his eyes before she leaned forward with a curious smirk on her face.
"So, Sheriff, what do you need to talk about?"
A/N: So on to the next chapter! Thank you for reading!
Vegaslover: The Carchonne relationship is one of my favorites as well and the basis for the Richonne relationship. We will definitely have more of that in later chapters. Yeah, a lot of bad decisions going around, but Rick's going to attempt to fix this. As for Jessie we'll see where the story takes us. Thank you for the review. I'm really enjoying writing this story.
Flacagonzalez: Haha, I get you. Unfortunately, she's gonna pop up again. :)
Ronniefanficfan 18: I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter as well.
Zeejack: That sounds like something Abraham would say if AMC would allow them to actually swear! :) Glad you liked the Michonne/Abe/Carl moments. It was my favorite scene to write. I hope you didn't get a headache, because the Rick/Carl confrontation in this chapter was my favorite to write in this chapter. Got out a lot of frustration. The day is just starting, so we'll see where it leads. Like I told flacagonzalez, the blond will show up again. Be prepared.
CordeliaMathews: Michonne and Abraham's interaction in that one episode that shall not be named in Season 5 was always interesting to me. There are relationships on the show that haven't been explored that much that I kinda wanted to delve into in this story. That was one of them.
Guest 1: Thank you for the review! Yeah, The Walking Dead has a habit of teasing awesome pairings (romantic and platonic) and not really exploring it. There are so many dynamic personalities on that show, so I wanted to see what their relationship would be like. I think you jinxed me about the frequency of my updates. Sorry for the delay. I'm gonna try to get on a more regular writing schedule, but we'll see. :)
Guest 2: thank you for the review! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Gerren: Hopefully this one was as well. *fingers crossed*
Kellisa: Things are developing slowly, but we will see more of the town's reaction in the next chapter.