A/N: My last update for 2016. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you to for the reviews and words of encouragement, I really appreciate them. I wish you all the best in the next year!
When the first shot was fired in Hilltop, Carl had been on the other side of the ridge, further away from town than Tara and Noah, but at a vantage point that allowed him to see the fourth rider that had been with the instigators before veering away from the main road and hiding behind the shops that overlooked the scene of the shootout.
Seeing red, Carl mounted his horse and took an alternate route into town, avoiding the main street where the bullets flew. As he neared the main fighting area, he could hear people screaming and ordering others around while occasionally there was a lull for reloading. He got off of his horse and ran the rest of the way towards where he saw who he believed was the culprit in this spiraling fight. On the other side of the shops, on the main road, guns were being fired and as he neared the shop across from the one Michonne had disappeared in, he could hear the crazed ranting of someone inside.
"STOP YOUR FIRE YOU ASSHOLES! I'M IN HERE!"
Pulling out his gun, Carl hid at the side of the shop and peered around the corner, surprised to see no one there.
"Where the hell-"
BANG!
Carl slammed against the building, clutching his arm and searching frantically for his assailant.
"Son of a bitch," he growled hatefully, observing Ron Anderson sneaking out from behind a barrel of water, scrambling to get away. Carl sprinted after him, firing at him as he gave chase. "GET BACK HERE!"
BANG! BANG!
Carl ducked behind a back porch and cursed as he reloaded his weapon, ignoring the stinging pain from his wound.
"Go away, Carl! Stay out of this!"
"How did you even know about this?!"
"I never trusted your father! And I was right, he smuggled them back into town!"
"You fucking idiot! This is all your fault! Innocent people are gonna die!"
"THOSE PEOPLE AIN'T INNOCENT!"
Carl watched him disappear around the side of a building before he rounded the corner and shot Ron in the leg.
"AAARGHH!" Ron collapsed to the ground, clutching his thigh as he looked around wildly for help. "Carl!"
"This is all your fault!" Carl pointed down the small alley to the main road, his rage causing him to tremble wildly. "You did this!"
"I was protecting my home! Alexandria!" Ron cried, dragging himself up against the wall and reaching for his gun. "I didn't do anything wrong!"
"You broke the Cavanaughs out of jail!"
"They're the only ones who would do anything to stop that gang!"
"You little coward," Carl snarled.
Ron pointed a finger at him. "You're the coward. You and your fucking father. Hiding fugitives!"
"Michonne's my friend!"
The boy's eyes narrowed. "I'm gonna tell everyone what you did! Your father's gonna go to jail like the criminal he is!"
Carl raised his gun. "You're a goddamn coward, Ron."
BANG!
A second later, Abraham Ford barreled out of the back of the shop, rolling around with another man who seemed determined to kill him. Carl fell out of the way and watched for a second as a clearly injured Abraham fought his attacker. Without another thought, Carl jumped in and wrapped his arms around Blake's man, pulling him back as Abraham punched the man in the face.
The man twirled around, striking Carl ferociously in the face with his elbow.
Carl fell to the ground, blood pouring from his broken nose.
Abraham took that brief second to pull out another gun and shot the man in the face.
For several moments, both Carl and Abraham lay in the dirt, gasping for air, bleeding, and wincing from pain. The cracks of gunshots continued to fill the air around them along with the screams of Hilltop citizens and the drop of a struck body.
"Fucking hell," Abraham groaned, sitting up and looking over at Carl. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Carl spat out a tooth and rolled over on his stomach, touching his face gingerly. "Saving your life."
Abraham briefly imagined Michonne's anger at the young man's presence in this town, especially during what was now a verifiable shitshow. "You ain't supposed to be here."
"Michonne's in trouble," Carl snapped, pointing to where Ron had been, only to find the boy gone. " Damn it! He was here! Ron was the reason those men warned Blake."
Abraham looked over to where he was pointing and arched an eyebrow before noticing the gunshot wound in his arm.
"Jesus Christ, boy," he grumbled, struggling to his feet and picking up his weapon. "Thank you," he added sincerely. "But you can't be here anymore."
Scrambling to his feet, Carl looked around for his gun. "Once I find Ron…"
Abraham shook his head. "This ain't your fight, Carl. It's ours… it's hers… and she wouldn't want you here to see this."
"Well, I'm gonna kill Ron, so that's none of your business!" Carl growled, furious at himself for losing track of the boy in the first place. "He was the one who let the Cavanaughs go and caused all of this to happen!"
"Carl-"
BOOM!
Every building rattled from the shockwave of the blast. Large plumes of smoke rose above the roofs and when they looked down the alley, they only thing they could see was the butcher shop, burning.
"No," Carl gasped while Abraham's body spasmed before he bolted down the alley.
"MICHONNE!" he yelled as Carl took off after him. "MICHONNE!"
The explosion startled the horses and shook the ground as Rick, Sasha, and Glenn finally reached the Hilltop. People were fleeing from the center of town, screaming and pointing as they saw the deputies approach.
"Help us!" a woman cried. "They're destroying the town! They're trying to kill Govna' Blake!"
Rick's eyes fell on the plumes of black smoke that rose up above the buildings, his face twitching with anxiety as he spurred his horse towards the commotion. Sasha and Glenn exchanged glances before she took off in another direction, looking for a place to take up a perch for her rifle. Glenn hurried after Rick, eyes widening as they turned the corner onto the main stretch.
Bodies lay strewn in the street. Dead, dying, or seriously injured.
Rick could not tell and as he approached the burning wreckage of the butcher shop, he did not care.
The blast had momentarily stopped the gunfire they had heard as they had gotten closer to the Hilltop, but it was clear from the casings that the firefight was far from over.
"MICHONNE!" someone screamed from the other side of the street. "MICHONNNE!"
Rick's his eyes returned to the bombed shop, his ears ringing with that name.
"No," he gasped. She could not have been in there.
Abraham appeared from the building across the street, charging recklessly towards the blast before one of Blake's men popped out nearby and took a shot at him.
"NO!" Rosita screamed, shooting back as Abraham stumbled, but continued across the street and crashing into the burning wreckage of the butcher shop.
"Abraham!"
Rick's heart stopped when Carl appeared as well, running across to where Abraham had disappeared.
"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Rick roared, dismounting his horse and waving his badge. "HOLD YOUR FIRE!"
It was too late. Rosita managed to hit Abraham's shooter and they fired back as she began laying cover fire for the teenager. Carl continued across the street, disappearing down the middle of the shop towards the blasted portion of the butcher shop. Glenn pulled out his gun and fired at Blake's men as Rick sprinted towards the burning shop after Carl, gun at the ready.
"Jesus Christ," Rick gasped. Half of the butcher shop had been rendered a huge, smoldering mess of burning rubble. He could hear the wood crackling and groaning and knew it would not take long for the remaining structure to collapse under the strain. Black smoke billowed up into the morning sky, accentuated sharply by the still rising sun. Behind him, Glenn dove into the store across the way, joining Rosita in exchanging fire with Blake's men. On the other side of the shop, he saw a few bodies lying behind the slaughterhouse. "Oh my God…"
"Michonne!" Carl cried, rooting frantically through the burning rubble alongside Abraham. "MICHONNE!"
"Carl be careful!" Rick warned, yanking him back as a beam fell. "This place is unstable!"
"Michonne was in here," Carl snapped back, stumbling over broken shelves and blistering wood. Rick's heart nearly stopped. "We need to find her."
"Michonne!"
Rick turned to see Tara climbing through the wreckage, cutting herself on shattered glass and slipping over splattered blood. Instead of waiting for her to get over to them, he began shifting wildly through the mess, ignoring the splinters and burns as he searched for a living body.
He needed to find her.
And she needed to be alive.
"MICHONNE!"
Rick, Tara, and Carl scrambled over the debris to where Abraham stood, pulling heavy slabs of wood from off of the sole body to be found.
"Oh my God!" Rick fell to his knees, helping Abraham with the last beam as Carl gathered Michonne's limp form into her arms, tears streaming down his face.
Soot ridden, badly wounded, and unresponsive, she looked dead.
"No, no, no, no," he muttered, desperately shaking Michonne.
Tara pressed her trembling hand to Michonne's chest, gasping at how soaked in blood it was. "Abe, she's not breathing," she cried. "Michonne!"
It was all it took for Rick not too completely lose his mind. He reached out for her face, wiping away blood streaming from a wound on her temple, hoping to find life. Frantic to find life.
"Michonne, please," he begged.
"Dad," Carl murmured, dread beginning to fall upon him at Michonne's lack of response. His father shook his head, refusing to acknowledge it.
"MICHONNE!" Rick yelled angrily.
Abraham pressed his ear to Michonne's chest and tried to listen. He held up a hand before anyone could say anything. "She's breathing!" he announced quickly.
"RICK!" Glenn ran over. "Rick, Sasha says we got some constables coming this way!"
Noah appeared as well. "We need to get out of here," he added.
Abraham and Tara exchanged glances, both seemed to arrive at the same conclusion.
"Tara," Abraham started without another thought, motioning to Michonne. "Help me with her."
Rick shook his head. "No, where are you taking her?"
"We're not," Tara snapped tearfully as they carefully lifted Michonne up. "You are."
"What?" Rick growled, causing the two outlaws to look at him directly.
"She cannot stay here," Abraham hissed, pointing to Glenn. "You heard your man!"
"She needs to go back to Alexandria," Tara added, startling the sheriff and his son.
"You're leaving her here?" Carl gasped as Noah came over to help with Michonne's limp form.
"RICK!" Glenn yelled, catching Sasha's signal from on the roof a few buildings down. "What's the plan?!"
Carl could see his father torn between what was being told to him and what his clear duties were towards this town.
"Alexandria's the only place close enough to help her," Tara conceded as they carefully maneuvered her to the back of the butcher shop, out of sight of those still in the street. "We need to get her to a doctor."
"Then come with us," Carl begged, but Noah shook his head.
"If we go back to Alexandria, we'll be caught within the hour," he explained, catching Abraham's eyes. "Someone snitched on us, that's why this all went to shit in the first place… we go back with her, she'll be caught for sure… and killed."
Abraham's gaze turned to Rick, his eyes piercing into the lawman's very soul. "You're the only chance she has to survive, Grimes," he growled.
Looking down at Michonne, Rick's heart constricting painfully in his chest. He could barely breathe at this point. "I'll protect her… I promise you, I will…"
"You better," Tara hissed, but Noah could see the determination in Rick's eyes and recalled the looks he and Michonne had exchanged the night before.
"He will," Noah resolved as they helped get Michonne into Rick's arms. "We have to go now," he stated reluctantly.
Tears were streaming down Tara's face, but she knew he was right. Pressing a kiss to Michonne's temple and whispering something indecipherable into her ear, Tara finally pulled away from the woman and motioned to the back of the crumbling building.
"You better save her," she threatened, "Or I swear to God, sheriff, I will kill you."
Rick and Abraham exchanged one last glance before the large man turned to Carl.
"Here," he muttered, untying a pouch from his belt and handing it to the young Grimes. "This is just in case…" Abraham's voice cracked at the possibility and his fists clenched. "This is how you find us."
Carl nodded, understanding the responsibility being handed to them by Michonne's friends… her family…
"We'll take care of her."
Rick watched them run off briefly before turning to the road and whistling sharply. "Glenn! Get me a horse now!" He turned to face his son. "Carl!"
The trembling teenager came over and was shocked when Rick gently cradled Michonne's body in his arms. "I need you to take her back to Alexandria," he ordered, trying desperately not to panic as he could feel her blood seeping through his clothes.
"Dad, you're not coming?"
"Carl, I need you to listen to me. I'm trusting you to get her to Dr. Stookey, you hear me? Make sure you aren't seen!"
"Dad-"
"Carl, you need to do this," Rick entreated as Glenn appeared, dragging one of their horses behind him. "I have to stay here to make sure no one follows, so you're her only chance, now go!"
Nodding, they helped him get on the horse with Michonne before watching him take off into the woods.
"Jesus, Rick… what the hell is going on?"
"Did the others get away?" Rick demanded.
"You mean Michonne's gang? Yeah, they're gone… Rick, we're supposed to arrest them."
Shaking his head, Rick began to head back to the main street. He was swallowing the panic he felt at Michonne's condition, but Glenn could see the fear swimming in the man's eyes. "We're not arresting anyone yet. We need to deal with the constables."
"Rick, you sure you want to do this…" Glenn asked cautiously, causing the man to stop.
Through the insipid worry that clouded him, Rick realized he had put his deputies in an incredibly difficult and compromised position. They had witnessed him, twice now, aid outlaws, with some terrible consequences. He was now asking them to once again put aside the law to protect those who had taken part in wreaking havoc on the Hilltop. To protect a woman he barely knew but already felt more connected with than he had his wife. To protect a gang that had done more good for this world than the men they had killed that morning.
It was unfair.
"Glenn… if you and Sasha want to be out of this, I won't blame you… what I'm asking… once you go down this road, ain't no comin' back."
Glenn understood the risks and was more than willing to go through with it. He just needed to be sure Rick was aware of the possible outcomes.
"I'm with you, Rick," he affirmed. "Sasha and Daryl are too… we're always with you."
Rick looked him in the eyes. "This isn't legal."
Glenn snorted and moved passed him towards the road. "We're a little passed that point now, Rick." He paused and looked behind him, watching the sweat drip down his friend's pale face. He had not seen Rick like this since the day his wife had died. "If you want to go to her… I can take care of this…"
Catching the knowing look in his friend's eyes, Rick managed his first, strained smile of the day. It was weak, but there was a determined hopefulness in it. Glenn feared it was either that or coming undone completely.
"She'll make it," he muttered, more to himself than to Glenn. "I need to be here."
"RICK! GLENN!"
Sasha's voice alerted them to the incoming constables and as they stepped out into the street, already a crowd was forming. Rick looked up at the sky, darkened by the smoke, and he sent out a silent prayer that this truly would not be the last time he saw Michonne.
"Dr. Stookey!" Carl cried, looking around frantically to see if anyone was watching. It had taken longer than usual to get into Alexandria, as he struggled to remain inconspicuous and he feared Michonne would pay for his cautiousness. "Dr. Stookey, please!"
"Coming." Bob slowly opened the door and frowned when he saw Carl standing there, grimy and covered in blood. "What happened? Come in!"
Carl shook his head. "No, not me, I need your help, please," he motioned to the bushes just outside the small infirmary where his horse stood. Bob could barely make out a figure lying there and hurried over to find Michonne barely breathing.
"Jesus," he gasped. "Help me get her inside, boy!"
They quickly carried her inside, with Carl rapidly pulling the curtains closed to the windows and locking the door as Bob placed Michonne down on the table.
"Damn it, Carl! My light!"
"No one can know she's here," the boy shot back as he snatched some matches off of the cabinet and shakily began lighting some candles around the room. "Please, Dr. Stookey, you have to save her!"
Bob was startled by the desperation in the young man's voice and looked back down at Michonne. Judging merely by her external injuries, he was stunned she was even alive.
"What happened?"
Carl brought a candle over to shine light on her side, where the shotgun blast had struck her. His heart and mind raced at the thought of how much pain she must be in and tears fell unchecked down his face at the thought of losing her. Somehow, he could not imagine this world without Michonne in it.
"Carl!" Bob snapped him out of his daze as he began cutting away at the tunic around the wound, carefully peeling the stained cloth as he looked closer. "What happened?"
"I… I don't… she won't stop bleeding," he sputtered. "Is she gonna live?"
"I don't know… it looks like some buckshot took some fabric with it… could get infected… and then there's all of this," he motioned to the burns and deep cuts from the explosion. "Carl, what the hell happened?"
"She… was shot… and then a bomb. There was an explosion" The young man was trembling with rage. "Is she gonna live?!"
Bob discerned that Carl was not in a state to provide him with any proper information, so instead he began grabbing his instruments and medicine. Snatching the candle from Carl, he set it down on the table and handed the boy a wooden spoon.
"Put this in her mouth and hold her down," he instructed as he hastily cleaned the area around the wound as best he could.
"But-"
"CARL! If you want to save her life, you're gonna do as I goddamn say, do you understand?"
Carl realized that Bob, and Michonne, needed him to maintain a clear head. Taking a deep breath and forcing down the panic that cascaded through his body, the young man nodded and did as he was told, placing his hands gingerly on Michonne's shoulders as Bob readied his scalpel.
"ARGH!"
Michonne's eyes flung open and she bucked around on the operation table, screaming in pain as the doctor cut into her side, digging around for the buckshot that had lodged itself into her.
"Hold her down! I might nick somethin' important," Bob snapped, wiping blood from his face as he continued his incision.
"Michonne, please," Carl begged as she writhed in agony. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, please!"
"Hold her!"
"Can't you give her something!" Carl shot back angrily and Bob shook his head, turning the light so he could see better. He was trying his best to limit the amount of unnecessary cutting and searching he did to the poor woman's body, but it was clear that the damage was not recent, as some of the blood had already dried on her stomach. Before he could deal with anything else, he needed to find the shot that had taken fabric with it, lest she suffer an infection.
"Those shithead Cavanaughs used up the last of my anesthetic! I'm expecting another shipment today, but it's too early."
"AHH!"
"You're hurting her!"
"Got one," Bob announced, pulling out a small, metal bearing and placing it on the table, along with a fragment of bloodied cloth. "Three more… just hold her still."
"Dr. Stookey! Dr. Stookey, is everything alright?"
The two froze upon hearing banging on the front door of the infirmary. Michonne's labored breathing filled the room as they exchanged glances before Bob motioned to a bucket of water in the corner with a rag.
"Clean your hands, put on that apron to cover up your clothes, and answer the door," he instructed calmly, noting the resurging panic in Carl's eyes. "Just tell them I'm dealing with a patient and cannot see anyone."
"But-"
"Do it."
The two men looked down to see Michonne had spit out the spoon and was now desperately gasping for air, her pallid skin glistening with sweat.
"Carl, go," she gritted out, squeezing her eyes shut and groaning pitifully as Dr. Stookey returned to looking for the other shrapnel.
Pressing his lips to her forehead, he whispered 'I'll be back" before he hastily washed his hands, put on the apron and left them behind to handle the visitor.
Michonne waited until she was sure he was gone before she looked over at the doctor. "Am I dying?"
"Miss-"
She reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, shocking him with the amount of strength she still maintained despite her debilitating injuries. "Am I going to die in this room?" she rasped before coughing up blood and falling back on the table, stifling a cry as her lungs burned and constricted in her chest.
Dr. Stookey looked her over before he returned to his operation. "You will likely die in here," he answered honestly, knowing she needed that before Carl returned. "But I'm gonna do the best I can to make sure that won't happen."
"Carl!"
The young man's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the appearance of Jessie Anderson at the door of the doctor. He peered out into the street and noticed a few others getting their day started, but no one else seemed particularly troubled by the sounds coming from the infirmary.
"What do you want?"
Jessie's eyes widened at the disrespectful tone and she wondered how much his father had told him of what had transpired earlier that day.
"I… I was looking for Ron… Have you seen him?"
If possible, Carl's face darkened even further. "No, he ain't here."
"If I could speak with the doctor-"
"He's busy," Carl snapped quickly, blocking her from entering the building. "He's with a patient."
"Are you apprenticing here now?"
"No… I mean… I'm just-"
"CARL!"
He jolted upon hearing Bob's rapt call and quickly glanced around to ensure no one else was watching. "Goodbye, Mrs. Anderson," he mumbled before slamming the door in her face, locking it, and rushing back into the operation room to find the doctor struggling to stop a surge of blood coming from Michonne's neck as she lay unmoving on the table.
"Carl, put your hands here and press down now!"
With quaking hands, Carl did as instructed, watching in horror as hot blood seeped through his fingers and spilled onto the now slippery floorboards.
"Dr. Stookey," he gasped feebly as he tried his best to stop it. He could not tell if she was breathing.
"She had a huge splinter lodged in her throat," the doctor explained as he scrambled to thread a needle. "Need to stitch it up. Keep pressing or she'll bleed out!"
It was a couple of tense minutes until Bob managed to stop the bleeding, allowing Carl to move away from her neck and help with addressing the rest of her injuries. The doctor directed him on where to place salves on her burns as he continued to stitch up her cuts and place bandages on her larger wounds.
"Slowly, that's it," Bob confirmed as they finished wrapping the splint around Michonne's fractured arm. "There…" He was about to provide Carl with next steps when a commotion at the front drew their attention. It sounded like someone yelling and banging on the door, but it was difficult to make out the words. "Carl, go see-"
BAM!
Before Bob or Carl could react, they heard the front door break open and Ron came barreling into the operating room, waving a gun around wildly.
"Get back! Get back!" he screamed, forcing the two away from the table and up against the back wall, hands up.
"Ron!" Dr. Stookey reacted, watching the chaotic scene unfold. "Ron, stop it!"
"You! You started this!" he continued, glaring daggers at Michonne's prone form.
Carl took a step away from the wall. "Don't you dare-"
"Carl," Bob hissed while Ron aimed his gun square at the young man's chest.
"Stay back!"
"Ron, don't do this," Bob whispered. "The authorities-"
"RICK'S THE AUTHORITIES AND HE LET THIS HAPPEN!" Ron bellowed, pointing at Michonne. "THE HILLTOP IS DESTROYED BECAUSE OF HER!"
"The Hilltop is destroyed because you let the Cavanaughs go!" Carl retorted furiously.
"Shut up!" Ron looked unhinged at this point and Bob pulled Carl back, watching the gun flail around fearfully.
"Look, son, you don't need to do this," Bob attempted coolly. "Right now, nothin's happened, so you can just walk away."
"No," Ron fretted. "She can't live."
"She won't," Bob responded, startling Carl and the other boy.
"What?" Carl groaned while Ron shook his head.
"No… you're lying to me…"
"Internal bleeding from the explosion, Ron," Bob continued slowly, catching the tears in Carl's eyes. "She never stood a chance…"
Ron looked down at Michonne. "But… she needs to die now… she needs to-
"AHH!"
"CARL!"
Carl's charge from the wall knocked Ron down for a moment before the boy kicked him in the stomach, causing him to double over in pain while Ron quickly scooped up his gun and pointed it at Carl's head.
"Ron, don't!"
Before anyone else could move, Michonne was off of the table, scalpel in hand, and in a quick second, she held the surgical instrument into Ron's throat.
"Drop the gun," she ordered, pressing the blade into his skin to draw blood as a warning. They all watched as the boy gurgled fearfully, eyes wide as the gun dropped from his limp hand before Michonne struck him in the back of the head, sending him into a crumpled heap on the floor. Michonne stared at the body for a second before her legs folded beneath her and she fell hard to the ground, barely managing to keep herself upright with her good arm as Carl scrambled over to help her.
Dr. Stookey moved to examine Ron quickly, surprised by the precision in Michonne's attack despite her injuries. "My God," he muttered.
Michonne closed her eyes, the adrenaline from the moment now adding to the excruciating pain that wracked her body. She struggled to remember what had happened but was coming up blank.
"Are you alright?" Carl gasped as he tried to help her back onto the table. "Michonne, you can't be up."
"Carl, stop," she managed, pushing away his hand and instead leaning against the table leg. With the way the doctor had wrapped her torso, she could barely breathe and felt may have ripped out some of her stitches. "Just… stop…" He waited anxiously as she clutched her side, Bob's words spinning in his head. "I need you to calm down."
"You're hurt."
"I'm aware."
"Michonne-"
"Did they make it?"
It took a moment to figure out who she meant. "Oh… yeah… they got away. They're alive," he assured her quickly, allowing her a moment of relief. "You were too injured to go with them… Michonne, you really need to lay down, you've been shot! You were in that explosion!"
"Is he dead?"
Carl frowned, glancing behind him at Ron's body, watching momentarily as the doctor moved it to the corner of the room, out of sight from the door. "Michonne, I don't think he's-"
Realizing what he was about to say, she slowly shook her head and motioned towards the door. "Blake… is he dead?"
"Oh… I don't know… I didn't see," he stammered. "Michonne, you need to lie down."
"I need to know if he…"
"Michonne! Dr. Stookey!" Michonne's eyes rolled back and she slumped over, unconscious. "Help!"
"She's still bleeding!" Bob helped hoist her up onto the table, motioning to the fresh blood seeping through her clothes. "Easy, rest her down easy… we need to stop that bleeding."
"Help her!"
"I'm doing the best I can, Carl! She's in very bad shape and she just made things worse with all of that movement."
"You said she was gonna die!" Carl croaked as he helped press down on the wound to stem the flow.
Bob's eyes flashed to him quickly before he went about stitching up the gash. "She will," he murmured gravely. "If I don't stop this bleeding..." Carl looked up at him, fear in his eyes at the thought of losing Michonne. Surprised to find such raw emotion in the young man's eyes, Bob hesitated. When Sasha had told him that the outlaws had stayed with the Grimes last night, he had not thought of the possibility of them being so close to the younger Grimes man. He had witnessed the emotional turmoil wrought by the death of Lori Grimes and believed that neither man would grow so attached to another woman in such a way again. It seemed he was wrong in that assumption. "Carl… I'm gonna do everything I can to help her… I promise."
The conviction in Bob's eyes calmed Carl a bit and bit back tears, his hands trembling as Michonne's warm blood continued to run through his fingers. He needed her to live.
The image of his sister in her arms, clinging to Michonne, and the helpless look on his father's face as he rode off with her flashed across Carl's mind. They needed her to live….
It was late in the afternoon when Rick returned to Alexandria with Sasha and Glenn. He could see immediately that word had spread about what had occurred at the Hilltop, and by the time they arrived at the jailhouse, Daryl could be seen outside, ignoring questions as he waited for them to return.
"Rick," Sasha hissed before they could be seen by the crowd. "Come on. Glenn can handle this, right?"
Glenn caught her look and nodded quickly. "Yeah, Rick, go," he urged. They had watched the man grow increasingly agitated as the day wore on, clearly consumed with concern about Michonne. It had taken much longer than expected to deal with the aggressive constables, who demanded explanations, arrests, and the immediate whereabouts of Michonne's gang. With Phillip Blake's death confirmed, the entire town was in an uproar and no one witness could provide an accurate, let alone objective, account of what occurred. Some claimed Michonne's gang charged in without warning, while others placed the blame firmly upon the Cavanaughs for the shootout and subsequent explosion. Most agreed that Sheriff Grimes and his deputies helped put an end to it, providing Rick with some wiggle room in manipulating the narrative and allowing his son and Michonne's cohorts time to escape.
While the constables eventually let them go, Rick knew they would have to address more questions in when the lawmen eventually arrived to Alexandria, but for now, he needed relief.
"Thank you," Rick gasped before he and Sasha galloped off towards Sasha's home. Rick had spent the better apart of the day trying to remain calm over the ever present fear that Michonne had passed in his absence. Her wounds were grave and he had seen bigger men perish quickly from such injuries. The past had not been kind to him on this front and his mind plagued him with the emotions that hit him when his wife had died.
"Bob," Sasha called as she managed to unlock the door. "Bob!"
"Sasha!" The doctor appeared from the back, wiping remnants of blood off of his hands and relief etched on his face. He hurried over and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Oh God, I've missed you."
"I'm alright," she replied, catching the scent of blood on him as he turned to Rick.
"You… you Grimes certainly like to invite trouble, don't you," he muttered, his tone steeped in annoyance.
"Bob-"
"She's alive," the doctor assured, motioning for them to follow him to the infirmary.
Rick stopped at the door, shocked and relieved to find Michonne lying on a cot, bandaged up and sleeping in the corner while Carl sat in a wooden chair nearby, also asleep. His arm was in a sling, but he looked otherwise unharmed.
"She was hurt badly, but she'll survive," Bob explained quietly. "She needs to rest. We can't move her anytime soon…. Though I'm not sure how well she'll take the advice…"
A weight lifted off of Rick and he leaned against the doorjamb, running a hand over his face. "And Carl…"
When Bob did not reply, Rick glanced over to see a worried look on the man's face. Sasha noticed as well and touched his arm.
"Bob," she prodded. "What is it?"
The doctor shook his head. "Carl will be fine, but Rick… we got another problem you need to deal with."
"What is it?"
They followed him down the hall to another room, which he opened to reveal Ron's prone body on the floor, tied up.
"Who-"
"Ron Anderson," Bob informed them quickly. "He barged in after Carl arrived with Michonne. He was threatening us, wavin' around a gun. The boy was very disturbed, Rick."
"What happened?" Sasha demanded, going in to examine the boy up close. "He's still alive."
Rick remained at the door, his heart racing again. "He knows she's here…"
Bob nodded. "Yes.. and his mother stopped by earlier looking for him. She's still looking for him, Rick… what the hell am I supposed to do about this?"
Before Rick could respond, Sasha stood up and approached them. "Rick, would you give us a minute, please?"
"Sasha-"
"Rick, your son is in the next room with an unconscious outlaw, who was partially responsible for blowing half of the Hilltop to hell, we have a captive boy in my home, and seven angry constables are about to descend upon Alexandria along with God only knows what else these people have called upon… I would like a moment with Bob… alone," she added.
Rick's eyes widened for a second and then he nodded, quickly backing out of the small room to return to where Carl and Michonne were. He quietly walked over to check on Carl, taking in the soft snore as the young man slept upright in his little chair. Rick was thankful he was safe and had managed to get Michonne to Bob in time.
Looking down at the sleeping woman, his heart tightened painfully at the sight of her. He kneeled down at the side of her cot and observed her shallow breathing, the fitful way she slept, and how her fingers trembled within the constraints of the bandages. He reached out to touch her arm but was stopped by Carl's hand.
"She's in a lot of pain," his son whispered before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Dr. Stookey gave her some medicine, but it only helped a bit…"
Rick nodded, motioning to the young man's arm. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Carl bobbed his head tiredly as his father's eyes returned to Michonne. "Just a scrape."
"From Ron Anderson?"
The young man fell still momentarily. "He's the one who freed the Cavanaughs."
"I know."
"How bad is it?"
"Very bad, Carl… we've got constables coming soon and they'll be looking for her… they know the gang escaped."
"Do they know she's here?"
Rick turned to his son in surprise. "No… But she's not well enough to leave."
"No she isn't."
They looked over at the door to see Sasha and Bob come in. Rick's deputy looked resolved on something and he was anxious to understand her.
"It's dangerous for her to stay," the woman pointed out, causing Carl to stand.
"You just said agreed that she's not well enough to leave," he shot back angrily, easing up only when his father placed a hand on his shoulder. Rick could see the plan set in Sasha's mind and trusted her now more than ever to do what was best for Alexandria.
Sasha took a deep breath. "I know… and Bob will take care of her for as long as she needs." She caught Rick's gaze. "I'll check in on the place, make sure no one else gets in to see her."
"But?"
They knew each other well enough by now for him to anticipate her conditions. He did not expect this to be completely selfless, nor should it be, considering how much trouble they had all brought upon her household.
"You need to handle the constables and the Anderson boy," she stated carefully. "And once she's well enough to move, she cannot stay here… others will be looking for her."
Rick nodded, reaching into one of his belt's compartments and pulling out a couple of money notes. "Here," he offered. "Thank you… For all of this…"
Sasha took the money but shook her head at him, turning to leave while Bob checked on Michonne, with Carl hovering behind.
"Thank me when it's over and we're all alive." She caught his eyes and waited for him to come over so only he could hear. "Something else is coming, Rick. You need to get your head right for it."
Rick looked down at his hands. "Sasha, if you're not comfortable-"
"You givin' me an out, Grimes?"
"You didn't become a deputy for this."
Sasha smiled. "No… I became a deputy 'cause you gave me a chance when the town said it was a bad idea… I'm doin' the same for you now."
"Giving me a chance?"
"No… her," Sasha motioned to where Michonne lay. "Even though Bob says it's a bad idea."
"He's probably right."
She tilted her head to the side and caught the faraway look in his eyes. "Rick… I saw what happened at the Hilltop and I know why it happened. And I know you're gonna make sure it doesn't happen here. Not again. Right?"
Rick offered her a faint smile. "Right."
"Then I'm not takin' your out," she resolved, shouldering her rifle. "See you at the jailhouse, sir."
He watched her leave before turning to see Carl gently holding Michonne's hand as Bob wiped her brow. The worry on his son's face caused his stomach to twist painfully.
"Is she alright?" he asked, coming over while the doctor rested a cool cloth on Michonne's forehead. Upon closer inspection, her body had begun to tremble and sweat. Rick could tell she was in pain.
"She's burning up," Carl worried.
"She has a fever," Bob admitted quietly, glancing up at Rick's pale face. "Not surprising, considering she was shot and blown up." He stood up, shaking his head in amazement that the woman was still even alive at this point. "She needs rest… I'll look after her for the night."
"We're not leaving her," Carl protested once again and Bob sighed.
"Rick-"
"Bob, Carl stays here," Rick interrupted, remembering Sasha's words. He had to address the fallout of today's events quickly before things spun even further out of control and that included handling Ron Anderson. "I have to fix this." He motioned for Carl to come with him to the door. "Carl, I need you to stay out in front and keep an eye on the doors, okay?"
"But Michonne-"
"Dr. Stookey is watching her," Rick cut in, though his son could clearly tell that this was difficult for him as well. "There's nothing you or I can do for now… But I need to fix what I started. With her, the Cavanaughs, the Anderson boy, the whole damn thing… I need to deal with it and I need you to keep watch here. Until Sasha gets back."
Carl could see that his father was determined to make things right after this morning's disaster at the Hilltop. There was no doubt in his mind that Rick would do everything possible to make sure everyone was safe, so arguing was futile.
"Fine," Carl mumbled, checking his gun before he looked back over at Michonne and the doctor. Rick could see the worry in his eyes and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Carl…" Unable to find the right words for this situation, he just nodded. In the corner of his eye, he saw Michonne shift fitfully on the cot. His entire being yearned to stay in the room with her, to hold her…
"She'll survive," Carl whispered.
Rick sighed, his feet heavy to turn as he left. "I'll see you in a few hours."
"Ah, Sheriff Grimes, I appreciate you finally joining us."
The silky voice of Lieutenant Willis Knighton penetrated the stale air of the jailhouse as Rick stepped through the front door. Sasha was sitting at her desk, glaring at two constables in the corner while the Lieutenant sat across from her in Rick's chair. Unlike Rick and his deputies, the constables were dressed in finer, tailored uniforms, with shined black boots, clean shirts, and dark brimmed hats that made them incredibly conspicuous in such a small town. The lieutenant himself was tall, lanky gentleman with dusty blond hair in a razor fine military cut and a twitchy leg that bounced off of the wooden floorboards with a click of the spurs. In his lap lay Michonne's katana.
"Lieutenant Knighton, you're here sooner than I thought," Rick observed quietly, catching sight of Glenn and Daryl in the back near the cells, watching the whole affair with suspicion. "I figured your business in Hilltop would take a couple of days, considerin' the damage done."
"My men are takin' care of it." Knighton glanced around the premises and smirked. "I know you had an incident with the same gang and wanted to make sure they did not return."
"We can handle it if they did," Sasha asserted, drawing his eyes to her.
"Of that, I have no doubt, Deputy Williams," he drawled. "However, in light of this morning's rather explosive events, it would be remiss of me not to double check. Especially since those Cavanaughs were supposedly in your custody before they arrived at the Hilltop… correct?"
Rick's eyes narrowed slightly at the implication, but nodded nonetheless. "That's correct." Daryl shifted, which seemed to make the other constables nervous. Sasha rolled her eyes. "Were you able to trace the gang? I thought they headed west."
"They did and I have a couple of men tracking them, but the Black Samurai herself is still missing… my men spent several hours going through that shop and only found two bodies, both men." His eyes fell on Rick, completely missing the incredulous look Sasha shot them and their very clean clothes. "Sheriff Grimes, I do not believe she died in that explosion."
The elation Rick experienced upon hearing Michonne had survived was quickly waning with this man's intrusiveness. "Perhaps she escaped with her gang."
Knighton snorted. "No… I don't think so. Got a lot of people sayin' they saw the gang leave without her… and she ain't hard to miss, so I don't think she left with them." He held up the katana. "Besides… ain't no way she's goin' anywhere without this."
Sasha leaned back in her chair. "Well, in light of this morning's rather explosive events, perhaps there ain't much to find," she suggested coolly.
"I'll keep that in mind durin' my investigation, Deputy Williams… For now, I would like to ensure she did not return here and also figure out how the Cavanaughs ended up at the Hilltop?"
Daryl moved away from the cells, shouldering his crossbow as he headed for the door. "Ain't no Black Samurai here."
"Are you certain?"
The two constables in the corner straightened when Daryl whirled around, visibly agitated by the lieutenant's questions. "Man, you gotta problem with us?"
"Daryl," Rick growled, stepping in between the two men while Sasha sat up in her chair, hand grazing her rifle. Glenn stepped into the main area, but remained quiet, watching carefully for any flashpoints.
"Deputy Dixon, my problem," Knighton began, standing up slowly and his spider-like fingers curling menacingly around Michonne's signature blade. "Despite the fact that this jailhouse looks less like a constable's office and more like a zoo, is that Governor Blake has been assassinated by a known group of outlaws. My problem is that you let that gang go and the very next day they blow up a town."
"The Cavanaughs and Blake's men blew up the butcher shop, Knighton, and you know that," Rick countered tersely, waving Sasha off from standing up. "As for letting them go, we didn't have much of a choice. A boy in town helped the Cavanaughs escape and we're handling it. Beyond that-"
"Are you saying you had no responsibility for what happened at Hilltop, Sheriff?"
Rick felt Sasha's eyes piercing into him, but he held the gaze of the lieutenant. "No. What I am sayin' is that before you start accusin' us of not doin' our jobs properly, why don't you do your job and investigate over at Hilltop. We have Alexandria covered."
Knighton's steely gaze seemed to grow darker at Rick's words. Sasha, Glenn, and Daryl watched the man carefully as he strolled over to where the sheriff stood so that he would not be overheard by the others.
"You are absolutely right, Rick," he stated menacingly. "I'll wait to hear what my boys at the Hilltop say… then I'll return to get my questions answered. And make sure you were not party to this whole sordid affair."
Rick's blood began to boil, but he maintained his composure. "You makin' an accusation now?"
A smile fell upon Knighton's face, but it never reached his eyes. "Not yet. But I've heard about you, Sheriff Grimes… You've done a pretty good job protecting this town, but you ain't much of a lawman… and considering your known affiliations with the… lesser amongst us, I wouldn't be surprised."
"Wouldn't be surprised if what?"
Knighton shrugged, looking down at the weapon in his hand. "We'll just have to wait and see."
He turned to leave, but Rick stepped to the side, blocking his path. "You can leave the sword."
The lieutenant shook his head slowly. "No, I think I'll hold onto it," he contended, his head tilting as he looked over Rick suspiciously. "I think I'd like to have this with me when I find her… bit of poetic justice. Live by the sword, die by the sword and all that." It was slight, but Knighton caught the twitch in Rick's lips and the tightened grip on his weapon. It was all he needed. "Have a good night."
Waving, he moved around Rick and left the jailhouse, followed closely by the other two constables. Rick observed them through the window as they moved down the street, ensuring they were far enough away before he turned quickly to Daryl.
"I need you and Glenn to patrol the town and check on the Anderson kid. Keep an eye on them as well," he ordered.
"Rick, what about Ron Anderson?" Sasha asked, coming over to stand with them.
"I moved him," Rick assured her. "To the barn we use to store all of our confiscations."
"Yeah, but his mama's still lookin' for him," Daryl growled. "Came by twice askin' about him."
"Knighton is gonna find out he's missing," Glenn added. "And he's not gonna stay away for too long."
Rick sighed. "I know… he'll be back tomorrow, likely with more men."
Daryl could see the wheels turning Rick's head. "We gotta handle it soon."
"Along with whatever else is comin'," Sasha muttered, still remembering the letters sent out for bounty hunters. "Rick… this is getting dangerous."
"You takin' your out?"
"No."
Daryl and Glenn shook their heads as well.
"Good… then go home, get some rest… tomorrow's gonna be a long day."
"You gotta plan, Rick?" Glenn inquired as they followed him out onto the front stoop, watching as people quickly moved inside, retiring for the day. The atmosphere was tense and even now, you could see the white smoke rising in the distance from the Hilltop, accented beautifully in the sunset. The evening air cooled Rick's burning skin and he breathed in deeply as his mind once again went to Michonne and Carl.
"You three ever played three card monte?"
Sasha could not help but chuckle at Rick's question. It had been a while since they had seen him so animated, so determined. That fighter spirit that had drawn them to serve under him in the first place and despite the problems Alexandria had encountered over the past few days, Sasha could not help but feel a bit grateful for Michonne's part in reviving Rick.
"Be careful, the three of you," Rick whispered. "Knighton's dangerous."
"Yeah, so are we," Daryl muttered, patting Glenn on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's go."
Rick and Sasha watched them leave before Sasha glanced up at Rick.
"You gonna be alright?"
She instantly saw his eyes cloud over. "I don't know," he resigned. "She's a criminal and she just killed a man… but I need…" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm being selfish."
"Huh…"
Rick caught the look she gave him and frowned. "What?"
Shaking her head, Sasha shouldered her rifle and prepared to leave. "Nothing. You're a good man, Rick. And you're doin' the right thing."
"Am I?"
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're protecting someone important to you. In this life, sometimes that's all we're able to do… especially if we're given a second chance to do so."
They stared at each other for a moment before Rick lowered his gaze and smiled. "What would I do without you, Sasha?"
"You'd be dead, sir," she replied quietly. "And I'd be out of a job… so don't fuck this up."
He laughed and waved as she stepped off of the porch and headed home. "Yeah… I'll try not to."
His mind once again returned to Michonne. He yearned to see her, but he needed to stay away for now. In the meantime, he would keep her safe as she recovered.
He would keep his promise to Abraham.
Rick was only in the jailhouse for another fifteen minutes before Carl's yells brought Rick outside and he ran to meet the young man in the street, shushing him to avoid drawing too much attention. "Carl, calm down, what is it?"
"Those constables! They're at the doctor's house! They're lookin' for Michonne," he gasped.
"Carl-"
"She's not there," Carl cut in before his father could ask the question. "I don't know where she is. She's gone. Sasha sent me to go tell you."
Dismay washed over Rick and nearly paralyzed him. Just like that, his confidence was shaken and looking at Carl, he knew he needed to get a grip before the whole town saw.
"Carl, go home," he ordered.
"But Dad-"
"Carl, you need to go home, there's nothing else you can do and if anyone sees you, they're gonna know something's wrong," Rick explained. He had a feeling Carl's obvious panic was the reason Sasha sent him away in the first place. "They're gonna know… and they cannot know… Go look after your sister."
"What about Michonne?"
"I'll find her."
Five shots.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Five shots to end Philip Blake's life.
The moment, as best she could remember prior to the explosion, replayed over and over in her mind. She watched as the back of his head exploded.
The smell of blood and gun powder filled her nostrils. She could not move. She could not feel.
Five shots.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
The thunderous barrage of fists against wood woke Michonne out of her fevered dream.
Immediately, she felt her skin splitting, burning, straining torturously against bandages. She could hear bones scraping against each other as she attempted to move and her stomach churned.
Laying on her back, Michonne struggled to remember where she was, what had transpired, and how she was still alive.
She was not supposed to be alive…
"God damn," she mumbled, running trussed fingers gingerly over her chest.
She scanned the room from her prostrate position and wondered painfully where Abraham was. Rosita, Noah, Jesus, and Tara… She prayed they were alive… she hoped they were safe…
Heated voices filtered in from the front of the house, alerting Michonne to trouble. Groaning and wincing, she lifted herself up and tenderly set her bare feet on the cool wood, sucking in shallow breaths. After another moment, she dragged herself to the door and leaned against it, straining to listen to the fight brewing outside the door.
The doctor's voice and Carl's… even one of Rick's deputies, the woman… then two others she did not recognize.
"Ain't nobody else here!"
That alone shocked her into action. Taking in her surroundings, she limped over to the window and peeked outside. She quickly shoved the pane open and gauged the distance to the ground before the incoming clicks of multiple footprints alerted her.
"That's just an operating room. Sir, please don't go in there!"
Michonne held her breath and squeezed through the window. She reached out to grab the top of the siding, but her grasp weakened almost instantly and she slipped, crashing to the dirt just as the door was opened behind her.
She shoved her fist in her mouth, drawing blood and stifling a yelp as she clutched her stomach with her other hand. Pressed against the house, she listened for a minute before she stumbled off wheezing into the darkness, disoriented, light-headed, and in excruciating agony.
"See, just an operating room," Bob snapped, following Lieutenant Knighton into the room and breathing a sigh of relief to see the empty cot in the corner and the open window. Sasha remained in the hall with Carl, watching as the other constable moved down to the closet where Ron had been held. In the corner of her eye, she could see Carl visibly growing more agitated upon finding Michonne gone and she turned to him.
"Carl, if you're feeling better, why don't you go to your father," she suggested calmly. "No need for you to be here."
"But-"
"It's alright," Bob agreed. "Go. Your arm will be fine in a couple of days with some rest. Just let your father know."
Carl could tell they both wanted him to go and after another moment, he reluctantly conceded, realizing that if Michonne was not here. She must have left at some point after his father had departed. He needed to go help find her before she was caught by one of the constables.
"Fine," he mumbled, turning to leave.
Knighton watched the young man leave quietly then turned his attention back to the room. "This cot was slept in recently," he pointed out, pressing his hand against the warm sheets. He sniffed the pillow. "Gunpowder..."
"Some of my patients use the bed to recover," Bob replied. "Carl was resting here."
"He was shot?"
"Just an accident."
Knighton's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Accident… well, I'll verify that later."
"You callin' him a liar?" Sasha questioned, drawing the lieutenant's gaze.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with confirmin' a statement, deputy… it's what separates good constables from common lawmen."
"You got any other business here?" Bob barked, stepping over to the door to prevent Sasha from getting through.
The man leaned Michonne's katana against the bed and moved over to the window. "You keep this open all the time?" he asked, ignoring Sasha's reaction.
"It's a small room and operating can leave a smell."
Knighton sniffed again and wrinkled his nose. "Yes… and it smells like a lot of blood was spilled here today. Who was the patient? I know it could not have been Mr. Grimes."
Bob leaned against the doorjamb and shrugged. "Can't recall. We get some travelers passin' through sometimes. I fixed him up, he paid, and went on his way."
"You remember which direction."
"No."
Sasha's grip on her rifle tightened as Knighton eyed Bob with clear distrust.
"Aren't you just a fountain of helpfulness," the lieutenant drawled. "You wouldn't happen to have helped another stranger anytime today. Negro woman, long knotted hair? Likely has some sort of bullet wound from a shotgun."
Bob's face twitched but he smiled and shook his head. "Ain't ever seen a woman like that."
Knighton's eyes shifted to Sasha. "Well, she's an outlaw, so if you do see her…"
"I'll turn her in to Deputy Williams," Bob finished, standing up straighter. "Until then, I think it's clear nobody is here, so…"
The other constable returned and shook his head at Knighton. Annoyance infected the lieutenant's face and he moved to leave, scooping up the katana as he pushed past Bob and Sasha.
"Well, it was worth a check," he growled, heading for the front door just as Rick appeared, looking just as aggravated. "Sheriff, what brings you here?"
"I was told you were harassing my deputy. Right after you told me you'd be leaving Alexandria."
Knighton glanced over at Sasha. "Ah, yes… your deputy… Well, since this is the only other surgery within the next hundred miles, I figured this would be the perfect place for an injured bandit to find help."
"I informed him that we don't harbor criminals," Sasha stated evenly. "He even checked to make sure I was tellin' the truth."
That same, cold smile appeared on Knighton's face. "Can never be too sure."
Rick stepped up to him. "It's time for you to leave, lieutenant."
For a moment they just stared at each other, sizing the other man up and coming to several conclusions in that moment.
"Constable Jacobs… it's time to go."
Bob slammed the door behind them while Sasha stopped Rick from going to the infirmary.
"She's not there, she left," the deputy hissed. "You need to as well."
"Sasha-"
"She left on her own, meanin' she's out there on her own, probably bleeding," Bob informed him. "She's too badly injured to be jumpin' outta windows like that. You need to go find her before they do."
Sasha moved over to the window and peered out, eyes narrowing angrily. "I can't leave, Rick. He's watching this place now… I'm surprised it took him this long in the first place, considering he was right about her comin' here."
"Shit," Rick spat. He was shaking with rage at this point at the pain that was still being inflicted on Michonne and they could tell he was ready to begin tearing things apart.
"Rick!" Sasha snapped. "Carl and Judith need to you pull it together, so take a breath and go find her!" Bob watched silently as Sasha took Rick's face in her hands and forced him to look at her. "I don't wanna give that asshole the satisfaction of finding her himself."
Rick nodded and kissed her cheek. "Thank you," he whispered before hurrying out the door.
"You are a frightening woman," Bob murmured as they locked the door and looked out the window, watching as Rick mounted his horse and rode off down the street, presumably to tell Glenn and Daryl about the changing situation.
She took his hand in hers and gave it a loving squeeze. "I love you too."
Two hours.
Rick spent two hours combing over as much of Alexandria as he possibly could before curious citizens and the shadow of one of Knighton's constables forced him to end his search.
Daryl assured him that Michonne had not left town, but beyond that, the fugitive had done well in avoiding capture despite her grievous injuries. Glenn promised to continue looking, but the deputies pleaded with Rick to return home.
There was nothing he could do for her if he ended up unintentionally led the constables to her with his increasingly desperate manhunt.
Resigned, Rick trudged through the door of his small home, barely noticing Carl sitting at the table of the dark room.
"Dad?"
"What are you doing up?"
Carl shushed him quickly and stood up, motioning for him to follow the young man down the hall. Quietly opening Rick's door, Carl stepped to the side, allowing Rick to peer in.
"Oh my God," Rick's legs nearly buckled from relief when he saw Michonne laying on his bed, wrapped tightly in his sheets with a cloth on her head.
"She was in in the other room holding Judith," Carl explained quietly. "Found her about thirty minute ago."
Rick took a deep breath and placed a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Thank you…"
"What are we gonna do? Aren't those constables looking for her?"
"Tomorrow morning, go back to Dr. Stookey and get whatever medicine she needs, understood?"
"Not tonight?"
Shaking his head, Rick softly closed the door and turned to face Carl. "They're watchin' the infirmary. They know she's hurt… We go back tonight, they'll know somethin's up."
"She's in pain."
Rick swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know… but we cannot let her get caught, understood?"
"Yes…" It was obvious that his son did not like this plan, but he would abide by it for the greater good.
"Get some sleep," Rick suggested.
"I can watch her."
Rick smiled and shook his head again. "You've done enough. Tomorrow's gonna be another long day and I need you sharp. She needs you sharp. You need sleep."
Carl sighed, but the exhaustion of the day already had a grip on him and he could not deny his father's observation. "Goodnight dad."
"Good night." Rick waited for Carl to disappear into his room before he turned to go into his, closing the door as quietly as he could behind him. Leaning against the wall, Rick felt a wave of fatigue crash over him as his eyes fell upon Michonne, who was looking up at him.
"Hey," she rasped and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.
"Hey," he gasped back, frozen against the wall. He was afraid he would hurt her.
"Rick." Michonne's weak, yet determined voice demanded his attention. He approached the bed and sat down on the edge, his heart racing as she struggled against all reason to prop herself up on her elbows.
"Please don't move," he pleaded, still hesitant to touch her. With all of the bandages, her pallid complexion, and trembling hands, she looked like she would shatter, save for the determined look in her beautiful, shining eyes. She rested her back against the wall and removed the small cloth from her fevered head, her lungs burning with every breath she took.
"Hey," she repeated and he covered his mouth to smother a cry as he tried to remain calm in front of her. That will was quickly failing the longer he was in her presence.
"Hey."
"Someone's looking for me."
"I know." Her eyes drooped as she momentarily lost her train of thought, allowing him the opportunity to whisper, "I thought we weren't going to see you again."
"That was only if the plan succeeded," she reminded him and he snorted.
"Yeah, you fucked that up, didn't you?"
Despite the pain she was in, Michonne smiled at him. While she could not remember much of what had happened back at the Hilltop past entering the butcher shop, she was now thankful she had survived the attack.
"Yeah… I survived, but I don't know why…" Her smile faded and she looked up at the ceiling. "Is Blake dead?" She craved an independent confirmation.
"Yes."
Rick watched as her face changed.
Once again, she felt numb again while she processed the information. She struggled to remember the moment.
Five shots. It had been five shots.
It was over in five shots.
Ten years and in seconds it was over.
Was it worth it?
Had anything changed?
Was Andre at peace?
"Rick," she gasped, and he instantly recognized the feeling of dread that fell upon her face as the questions swirled in her head. "I don't feel anything…"
He reached out and took her hand tenderly in his, drawing her eyes to him. "You will… when you're ready, you will. Your son would want you to."
She stared at Rick strangely, as if she were just seeing him for the first time.
Something flipped in her and for the first time in ten years she felt something new.
She felt release.
"Andre… his name was Andre."
Rick felt his eyes sting with tears as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her burning temple. "Andre," he repeated reverently. He pulled away and looked into her eyes. "You survived because of Andre."
Tears welled in her eyes and she uttered Rick's name softly before he gathered her up in his arms, holding her firmly to him as she wept.
She had survived because of her son and now he was giving her a second chance to live. As she lay in Rick's arms, she was determined to take it.
A/N: Thank you again for reading! Please leave a review if you can, I do read them! :)
