*Author's Note*
Hey Everyone! Thank you again for reading and commenting! So I debated for a minute writing this but I wanted to attend to two things that I thought maybe I should address: Okay so first thing, I wanted to apologize to folks for neglecting to issue a trigger warning. I initially didn't because I thought "Hey, it's Walking Dead/World War Z fic, readers should know what to expect. These are literal worlds of unpleasantness of various kinds". But I realize now that's irresponsible of me. While my story exists in an entirely imaginary universe, my subject matter (particularly in upcoming chapters) has real world analogs that I'm borrowing from (meaning no disrespect whatsoever to the real people who have had to endure it). That requires a warning. So here it is. I must advise readers that though it is not my intent to upset anyone (beyond the bounds of storytelling), the subject matter, language and scenarios moving forward may be upsetting to some. This will most likely be the only warning I issue. My apologies in advance to anyone who finds elements of this story distressing.
On to the second matter, there are no words for the love you guys have shown me and my little story. Thank you! That being said, I know and understand it won't be all kudos all the time. I respect that and I will endeavor to take any criticism y'all give constructively. And as I hope most of you have already noticed, I will try to respond (at some point by DM) to any questions or comments you have. Still, some responses will have to be public to attend to more universal concerns. This is one. What I'm hearing from most of you is that you guys dig the flashbacks. But as I learned in school long ago, if one person bothers to write it, a few people are actually thinking it. So to the people who are not feeling the flashbacks, I've got just three words for you: "Past is prologue". Hope that helps. Anyway as Wendy Williams might say, I love you for reading!
7/26/15 04:38 EST
USS Ticonderoga (200 miles off Charleston, SC)
Michonne opened her eyes directly into the placid gaze of Rick's daughter, Judith.
The baby was awake but completely content to lie quietly in her sleeping father's arms. She watched Michonne and played with her feet in the berth directly across from her in their very narrow sleeping quarters. Lack of space had required that everyone double up. As it was, Beth slept facing the wall at Michonne's side, in a bunk ordinarily made for just one crewman. They shared the entire six-bunk cabin with another family and a sad little midshipman who found his quarters completely overtaken.
Michonne looked again at the adorable little girl, who up until yesterday had been completely theoretical. She knew she existed, of course, Lori had taken care of that. Still, she existed in the same realm as people who lived on the opposite side of the world: very real but vaguely of the imagination. Until yesterday, Carl who shared a bottom bunk with the other family's little boy, also remained fixed in her imagination. He was forever the seven-year-old Michonne had long ago chased around Hershel's lawn with dueling super soakers. It was strange to her how just yesterday these kids were virtual strangers to her and yet now she wanted desperately, with every ounce of her being, to assure they grew safely to adulthood.
Lori had not, decidedly not, left her children in Michonne's care. Given the last time she'd heard from the woman, Michonne still felt very comfortable in assuming that. Nevertheless, she found that she still felt charged with helping their father look after them. Honestly, Michonne found she felt the same way about Beth despite the fact that the girl was eighteen and Hershel was alive somewhere in the Greater New York Metropolitan Area. It was daunting, having gone to bed just 30 or so hours ago single and relatively carefree, to have subsequently lived through day and night where she'd practically inherited three children. It made her fearful of the trip she was embarking on while simultaneously feeling more committed to their goal than ever. They had to find something out there, a clue, an answer, a cure. Michonne was lost in her thoughts. So much so that it startled her to look up and see Rick looking directly at her.
"Been awake long?" he whispered.
He didn't have to speak loudly, they could scarcely have been closer if they'd actually been in bed together. It was seriously awkward for her. Michonne felt a pang of sympathy for the sailors who had to face this day in and day out for months at sea.
So she just shrugged, she had no idea.
It felt like she'd never gone to sleep at all, like she'd never stopped thinking and worrying. She felt like she had only just closed her eyes a moment before, but a look at her watch told her that had actually been four hours ago. At six-thirty a helicopter was coming to take them on to the aircraft carrier, the USS Andrew Jackson, to catch a transport plane to parts unknown. Although the truth was, she knew exactly where she was going- with Dr. Mamet to the DMZ to find the first in what she hoped would be a trail of breadcrumbs they could decipher. That was if they weren't somehow killed first. Which was where Rick came in; him and a group that he had spent the evening hand-picking. It was all enough worry to ensure that she never slept a wink again.
"We have one mid-air refuel over Turkey, that hopefully goes off," He said getting right into it. "We've been in touch with Incirlik Air Base. There's a group holding out over there. From what I was told, it's a shitshow but they still think—"
"L-let's talk somewhere else," Michonne whispered cutting him off when she saw Carl's eyes open in the bunk below his father and she felt Beth stirring in the small space behind her.
He nodded seeming to understand. He slipped out of his berth as Michonne did as well and carried Judith out of the room with him. Michonne supposed since Judith was an infant, it really wouldn't matter to her if they were talking about the apocalypse as long as they did it in soothing tones.
She followed Rick out of the cabin into the equally narrow hall, only to find that it being four in the morning had no bearing on the level of activity in the ship's corridors. Michonne didn't get claustrophobic but if she did, this would have been a bad spot for her to take refuge. Rick ducked into a stairwell with her right behind him. He propped his foot up on one step and turned to face her, balancing Judith seated on his thigh.
"Claremont assured me that Mamet knows what he's looking for," He said bouncing the little girl lightly as he spoke.
"I think it's more a case of Milton wanting people to think he knows what he's looking for," Michonne admitted, smiling as Judith attempted to stuff her entire fist into her mouth.
Embarking on this type of trip, Michonne had learned the hard way, everybody's cards had to be on the table. While eloquent speeches and grand pronouncements were great for rallying the troops, honesty was best in working with a team. If Rick's people were to be her squad, she was going to have to be 100 percent honest with them at all times.
"So you're saying we're going on a wild goose chase? I need to know this, because five people were just voluntold to risk their lives coming with us."
"No, it's not that he's clueless, it's that we're looking for a needle in a haystack filled with hay...and needles," Michonne said glumly, trying to simply explain what had already been complicatedly explained to her.
But it was doable.
Michonne knew she needed to believe that to function. She had never done anything like this before but she had helped UN medical personnel maneuver in war zones where their lives and her's had been at risk. She had worked in endangered communities looking for causes and vectors of disease and chronic illness with the CDC. Rick had guarded heads of state and kept hundreds of people safe in his years both at the UN and as a Marine. Dr. Mamet was a Harvard-trained epidemiologist who had worked at both the NIH and the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. He was actually one of the bright lights of his field.
They were all well-qualified for the enormous responsibility they'd been given, Hershel reminded her in the pep talk he'd given that evening. Or at the very least, she figured, they were definitely better than nothing, which was what they'd had before she and Rick arrived. She just had to believe she deserved the faith placed in her. They were going to accomplish their task and make it back safely. They had to.
"I believe he'll know what he's looking for when he finds it," She said with a confidence she had yet to feel.
Rick nodded his head looking down at Judith, who giggled as she bounced.
Michonne took a deep breath.
"Rick, I'm thinking, maybe you shouldn't come."
He looked up at her suddenly, his azure eyes wide as if she'd startled him.
"Is this still about the DRC? We haven't talked about that. About never wanting to see me again?"
Michonne winced, sighing with regret. The less said about that whole time, the better. It remained an unresolved source of pain for her. She had always hated that those words of rebuke were some of the last things she'd said to him. She had just been so numb at the time, so disconnected from her feelings about anything, but primarily about Rick. She had worried for a long time after that she'd never have the opportunity to take it back or apologize and now he was there. Still, it was not a place she wanted to revisit right then.
"No, no," She responded quickly, shaking her head. "I didn't even mean that then."
He didn't respond immediately, as if he didn't believe her. His eyes just scanned her face as if looking for the truth there.
"But you've got Carl and Judith here." She tried to find a way to say it right. "Look, you put together a crack team for me, I have no doubt. You don't have to be one of them going out there."
His expression softened somewhat and he looked briefly at Judith again.
"For these kids, there's no one, if not you." Michonne appealed to his guilt deliberately.
She was fairly sure like any true workaholic, Rick felt a certain amount of guilt about being frequently separated from his kids. She was tapping into it, hoping it might save Rick from himself. Michonne knew he would come with her, without question. Putting himself in danger for her and others had been part of his job description for many years. But that was when he was secure in the knowledge that Lori was there, taking up the slack. With Lori suddenly gone, Michonne didn't want Rick blindly following her off a cliff just because he always had before.
He seemed to read that all in her face, the way he used to. He cracked the smallest of smiles and shook his head amused. He took his foot off the step, straightened to his full height and put Judith on his hip, so he could close the small distance between them. Michonne straightened reflexively too as he approached.
"Carl and Judith are now surrounded by the finest fighting force in the world. A complement of thousands of military men and women that are also protecting the Secretary of State, who might just be the president by this time tomorrow," He revealed grimly.
"I've been assured that they're not docking in any port again, so the fleet is surrounded by ocean. And if Mamet is right, no one turns slowly enough to go undetected, which means they won't be accidentally airlifting infected onto the ships." He adjusted Judith on his hip, coming closer.
"Now, is that enough, ideally? No, but I've been told in the morning they're planning to transfer all the families with children on board to the Jackson because that's the epicenter and the most protected part of the Carrier Group."
He spoke in low tones mere inches from the side of her face as if he were intimating a secret, though they had the entire stairwell to themselves.
"So I choose to have faith that I couldn't protect them any better. What I don't have faith in is that anyone in the group I put together can protect you better than me."
Rick looked deeply into Michonne's eyes. She'd seen the look before. All those years ago in her tiny kitchen in Kinshasa. She felt as immobilized by its intensity now as she did then. He leaned forward, his lips gently closing over hers in the lightest and briefest of kisses. Michonne was stunned. Not that he'd done it, but that he'd finally done it now, of all times. Rick tried to back away but Judith had by then gotten a grip of the Navy tee Michonne was wearing as a sleep-shirt. She attempted to use it to scale Michonne's body.
They both looked down at her and chuckled as Rick struggled to disengage his daughter's death-grip on Michonne's clothes.
"It's okay. Give her to me," Michonne said with a smile that Rick returned as he did what she suggested.
"Well, I guess that means I can't convince you to stay," Michonne cleared her throat, continuing as if nothing had transpired between them, "In which case, Deanna has a son who's a tenth-grade history teacher. In the next couple of days, he's going to start teaching the kids. I think Carl should participate."
Rick nodded, searching her face with his eyes. There was too much happening now for Michonne to deal with anything more. If he was expecting a response or better yet, a swoon, he'd picked the wrong moment. Michonne just went down the bullet-points in her mind.
"Also, I know I probably should have cleared this with you first but everything's been so hectic. Time is flying and I wanted this squared away..." She paused not wanting this to sound as funereal as she knew it did. "in case, you were as stubborn as I thought you would be."
She chuckled awkwardly, feeling inexplicably both nervous and irritated.
"I know you don't know him but I've asked Daniel to just look out for Beth and the kids while you're gone. And he's agreed. I know I don't actually know him that well either but I trust him. I mean, I trust him with my life, in fact."
Rick still didn't speak for a second longer digesting that information. "Well, you're right, I don't know him. So I'll need to speak with him but your endorsement carries a lot of weight."
Michonne played with Judith's little hand, still clutching at her shirt and watched Rick watch them together. The baby had clearly taken to her and Michonne had to admit she was pretty taken with Judith too. She'd always imagined she'd have babies eventually but work and life happened in a way that brought her into her late thirties still childless. Michonne had viewed her ultimately abortive engagement to Michael as a last chance of sorts. Now that the world was on the brink, she realized it definitely might have been.
She suddenly decided to just enjoy Judith and her accompanying wonderful baby smell for another moment more. Then Michonne sighed, fighting a sudden melancholy as she handed the girl back to her father.
There was no point in dwelling on it. She realized as she watched Judith settle back into Rick's arms.
Sensing her change in mood, Rick spoke up again, his eyes trained on her face. "You okay?
"Yeah, yeah, it's just that today's going to be a very long day." She sighed again heavily, uttering what she was sure had to be the understatement of the century. "Might as well get started."
06:19 EST
Michonne swung the large brown canvas satchel over her shoulder and bent at the knees in front of Carl. The helicopter's spinning rotor blades kicked up enough wind and noise to make what she planned to say difficult to decipher without him closer. She tugged him to her by the sleeve of his windbreaker. He was surprised by that, looking at her askance. She could definitely understand his reticence. It was a rare child who could have heard any part of Rick and Michonne's mission and not been in a funk at the prospect. Maybe Judith, Michonne posited humorously, but only because she was too young to talk.
Though they'd spent less than twelve hours together, Michonne felt as if she needed to talk to him before she left. It felt silly, but she had an idea that she'd worked the night before to put into place and hoped now he was game for. The little boy she'd played with at the barbecue all those years ago would have been. But given everything that had happened to him in the last day, Michonne would understand if that boy was gone permanently. Carl looked over at his father, further away on the helipad, still in a huddle with Beth and Daniel, before reluctantly stepping forward.
"Here." She handed him the items she'd just fished out of her satchel.
He looked at them skeptically then back at her before a small grin threatened to crack the somber veneer of his face.
"Silver Surfer?" Carl looked at the comic books she'd handed him and then back at her incredulously. "These are yours?"
"Nope." She smiled conspiratorially. "They belong to an Ensign Welliver. He's in berthing 405 over on the Jackson. And from what I understand, he's got plenty more of these, which he's willing to share with you. If you can keep a secret."
"A secret, why?" Carl asked trying to mask his eagerness. He'd been in a sulk since his father woke him that morning and he was clearly reluctant to let it go.
Michonne played along, pretending not to notice how pleased he already was.
"Well, imagine you're him and you've got this precious stash. Now imagine having to share it with all 50 of the other kids on board?" Michonne asked watching him flip through the pages casually. She handed him a spare flashlight from her satchel too. "Can you promise to only read these in your bunk at night and take good care of them and any more you get from Ensign Welliver?"
Carl nodded, an actual smile coming to his face.
"Good, 'cuz I already promised him you would." Michonne smiled back, standing up finally. "So do you know the Silver Surfer?"
Carl looked up at her curiously. "Of course. He's not my favorite. I like Warpath and Cable, but he's cool."
"Ahh, The New Mutants, deep cuts. I like your style, kid." Michonne knew instantly she had him. New Mutants were a little too obscure for a casual comic book reader. From his wide-eyed expression, she could tell she'd impressed him. Rocking back on her heels, she grinned like a Cheshire Cat. "Still, I'm glad you think he's cool. See, 'cuz The Surfer is my personal favorite."
"Why?"
"'Cuz, he gets to explore the galaxy. Meet different species."
"Yeah, to help his boss decide which planets he's gonna eat." Carl fixed her with that quizzical gaze again as if he were trying to make sense of her. It was funny, she'd seen Rick look at her in an identical fashion before.
Michonne nodded. "Yeah maybe, but what I've always loved was he gets to be the first point of contact with different worlds. He's a herald, an intermediary between peoples, an ambassador. True, for a world-eater but hey. Nobody's perfect." She shrugged and Carl gave her the first laugh she thought she'd seen from him.
"Alright now, you know nothing in the world is free," Michonne said abruptly seeing his father headed back toward them.
It was time to go.
"I have to pay for these? I thought you said I was only borrowing them?" Carl questioned.
"Oh yeah, you are borrowing them from Ensign Welliver, but as the facilitator of this exchange, I require something of you."
Carl eyed her suspiciously yet again. Michonne loved how obviously he tried to make heads or tails of her. As an adult who clearly liked comics as much as he did, she was defying categorization, and she could read the struggle clearly on his face. He was definitely his father's son.
"What?" He asked slowly.
"Galactus has had fourteen heralds. By the time we get back, I want you to be able to name them all and tell me which one is your favorite, which was his best and why."
Rick, Beth and Daniel walked up to them just as the cynicism left Carl's face for the final time. Michonne had him. She knew it and he knew it too.
"How am I supposed to find all that out?" He complained.
"The internet still works. And you've got Ensign Welliver's comics. In fact, I bet there are probably a few other people on board who could contribute opinions to that debate too. That sounds like at least three good sources for a paper."
"A paper!" Carl's voice threatened to become a whine.
Michonne looked up at Rick, now standing directly behind his son, and winked so quickly most would have missed it. "Yup. Five pages, double-spaced, one-inch margins. Or do you want me to tell the Ensign to forget it?"
Rick smiled, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder, squeezing it.
"Fine." Carl sulked, but Michonne could tell from his expression the idea intrigued him.
"I'm expecting that paper in my hands when we get back now." Implicit in her instructions was also the promise that she'd return his father safely to him. Carl seemed to get it. He just looked at her for a moment before nodding.
"Okay," she said shaking his hand to seal the deal before turning him over to his dad for their good-byes.
Michonne turned toward Beth then, who stood by stoically. Whatever Rick had said to her, she was trying to keep up a straight face.
"I'll keep in contact if I can." Michonne hugged the girl to her, giving her long blonde ponytail a tug like she'd done when Beth was a child. "Don't worry. We'll be back."
Michonne tried not to be affected when Beth's bottom lip began to quiver. "I know. Rick told us."
"You'll be okay while we're gone. Your dad is still just a phone call away and Mr. Salazar can help you with anything you need."
Beth nodded.
"If anything happens. You grab the kids and go with him okay?" Michonne looked to Daniel and he affirmed that wordlessly.
Beth nodded again, unable to speak. She hugged Michonne tighter.
Michonne released Beth and turned to Daniel then. He stood by patiently. Having been charged by her and Rick with the safety of the kids, his face was the appropriately stoic mask of a sentinel. Ironically, in that way, it wasn't all that much different than it had been since she met him. More and more, Michonne became convinced Daniel's previous life had clearly amounted to far more than just being the facilities manager of a skyscraper.
"Thank you for this." She outstretched a hand for him to shake and he took it warmly in both of his. Michonne couldn't hide her surprise at the gesture.
"Because of you, I am alive," He started, looking deeply into her eyes. "Because of you, I got an audience with the Secretary of State yesterday. And because of what you and Capt. Grimes are doing here, my daughter, Ofelia will be able to board the USS Jimmy Carter in San Diego, if God willing, she and her mother can get to Camp Pendleton in time. All she has to do is get there."
"Daniel," Michonne started shocked. She had not orchestrated any of this. She was hardly comfortable with taking the credit.
He cut her off shaking his head.
"No. I believe you get an opportunity, a window and you either take it or don't. Ultimately, your fate is yours to decide. But you gave me those opportunities, you gave me a way to save my own life...and now possibly those of my daughter and ex-wife. For that, I will forever be in your debt. And I will protect these children as if they were my own flesh and blood."
He pat her hand appreciatively. Michonne could hear the sincerity in his voice and see in his face how seriously he took the charge they'd given him. She felt like her faith in him was being rewarded. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and a smile, which surprised them both before stepping up into the waiting chopper.