Day 11

by constablemichonnes

(find more of constablesmichonnes' writing under our favorite authors or check out her tumblr page)


The light of the day had begun to wane as the early evening set in. It had taken them a good portion of the day to return to the ASZ and even longer to collect and reorganize themselves after the events of the day. After cleaning up and checking Carl over to make sure that the boy was not physically harmed in any way, Rick had sat his son down and asked him to tell him what he saw and what Negan had done to him inside The Sanctuary.

Carl recounted everything to Rick, not once looking directly at him, and Rick calmly accepted every detail, having grown accustomed to Carl's coldness towards even though it still hurt to see. Once Carl finished, Rick responded by letting Carl know the details of the plan they had been working on. As he finished his explanation, Rick leaned back against the dining room chair, studying Carl's face for a reaction.

"So that's the plan?" Carl said, his expression giving no hint to what he was thinking.

"That's it," Rick replied, his hands stretching out against the table, "Something wrong?"

Carl continued staring at the table intently before glancing up upward. "No. It's a good plan."

Rick shook his head in acknowledgment before moving his chair closer to his son, his voice growing soft yet still firm. "You know that's not the only reason I needed to talk to you."

"I know what I did was stupid, but I couldn't help it. I was tired of standing around doing nothing. That wasn't going to help anyone." Carl lifted his face to fully see his father now, but his eyes still refused to meet Rick's as he spoke in a harsh voice.

"I understand how you feel Carl. I know this situation feels hopeless, but don't you ever do something like that again." Rick's voice steadily began to grow louder as he continued. "We need to remain in control of what we have, and that includes our heads. You came close to dying tonight and if he had actually killed you, I would have lost it too and that also helps no one," Rick responded, his voice rising to be as equally harsh.

Carl sighed, "I know, I know."

"I know you know, but what's important is remembering it when it matters." Rick said while jabbing his finger at the table for emphasis.

"Okay." Carl said in a resigned voice, slightly nodding his head. Minutes passed as neither of them said anything, Carl looking as if he were debating what to say next and Rick remaining silent to allow him room to speak. Finally, Carl spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I wish I had killed him."

"Excuse me?"

"I wish I had killed him," he said, raising his voice, "I could have done it you know, I had the chance."

"Carl-"

"For a split-second I had a clear shot. I could have looked right into his face as he died." The young boy's face hardened as he spoke and Rick could tell that he had been picturing the gruesome scene inside his head and was regretting that it was not a reality. He did not respond as a sudden wave of guilt crashed over him. Carl only felt this way because of Rick's own failure to act, and above all, he learned how to be this way from seeing him. Carl's anger was another consequence of his actions and while he knew that he was in no position to set his son on a better path, something had to be done soon, before the boy became a mirror of his own uncontrolled anger and blood-lust.

—-

"Rick should have made a better deal." Spencer's voice startled Michonne out of her thoughts. She turned to him, her eyes wide. They had been on watch duty at the gate together for a good portion of the night, and the young man had barely spoken a word to her the entire time.

"Excuse me?" She responded, her voice slightly cracked in surprise. She was still thrown not only by the sound of his voice but what he said as well.

"He should have made a better deal with Negan." Michonne could see the hidden anger in his stance, the way he clenched his gun closer to him, his chin sticking out as he held his head high. "Look at us, we barely had enough supplies before this mess. We can't keep giving to him or we'll have nothing left for us."

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply before responding, "There was nothing to negotiate. This wasn't a willing deal, Spencer. We were forced into this."

"Willing or not there must be something that we can do. Anything is better than this," he said, his voice growing slightly louder as he swung his right arm out, gesturing towards the community.

Michonne tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at him. "Is death better?"

Spencer ignored her comeback, his eyebrows dropping in annoyance as he continued, "We won't be able to survive like this much longer. Negan will keep taking from us until we have nothing left."

Michonne shook her head. "You weren't there, you don't get it. Rick is doing the best he can given the situation. No one else could have done better."

"It's not enough," he said, his voice rising yet again before he dropped his head down and sighed, his eyes looking directly into hers, "I know you can understand where I'm coming from Michonne."

"I understand your worry, but nothing else. After everything that's happened, you should have more faith in Rick, and in me." She knew that was a low blow, using his departed family against him, but nonetheless it was something he needed to hear. Deanna had put her faith in Michonne and Rick to make this place better and even when she stood on death's door she believed in their leadership, despite everything that had happened telling her otherwise.

Michonne stiffened as she saw Spencer jerk back as if she had slapped him, the anger spreading across his face followed quickly by grief, hardening his soft features. However, he didn't respond to her and simply turned back towards the gate, his grip on his gun tightening and loosening as if he were clenching his fists.

"Look, the last thing we need right now is to fight amongst ourselves. It will work out, I promise," she said while taking a tentative step towards him, her eyes never leaving his face.

Spencer remained silent, staring out into the night.