Chapter 10: Smoke
Rick
Thursday

He spent the night tossing and turning. He was up before the sun and didn't want to disturb Judith with his restlessness so he got dressed and went downstairs. He made a pot of coffee and took a cup with him as he slipped out of the house. He wandered around Alexandria. That didn't take long and he couldn't go far. What he really wanted was to get outside those walls and see what surrounded them. He found himself at one of the gazebos and sat.

Everyone was giving him his space. More space than he was comfortable with or needed. It had been three days since he woke up but he had only talked to a few people and those were short visits at the infirmary. No one dared to visit at the house. Lori probably put everyone on notice that he needed to rest. She definitely inherited her mother's worry gene. Things with her, well, he wasn't sure what to make of it. He thought putting his family back together was the right thing. Since he arrived home it had been an uneasy dance between them. It was obvious they both watched their every word with each other. That couldn't last forever and if they were holding back then eventually what they both tried to suppress would see the light.

There was still something there and maybe it could grow to something more. When he almost lost her at the prison after she gave birth he felt like his entire world was about to unravel with the pull of one string. But when Hershel told him she would pull through and she was back on her feet things went back to how they were because he couldn't allow himself to feel anything for her again because he wasn't sure he could trust that she wouldn't destroy him again. After all this time, he finally admitted her support of Shane and not sleeping with him is what damaged them the most. He killed his best friend, a man he loved, and had no one to talk to about it. Carl was upset. Lori was upset. And Rick carried it around, along with the safety of nine lives, for nine months after the farm. The burden was heavy and he was tired of all things Lori by the time they arrived at the prison.

She said she defended him and was in his corner. If she was, it wasn't when he was around because he never saw it. He got the questions, the doubts, and the disapproving looks that she had no problem tossing his way. He was getting himself all worked up just thinking about it. Until he could work through his shit they didn't stand a chance. But that kiss meant something. It wasn't random. He was right there with her and enjoying it. It was his brain that put a stop to it because he knew there needed to be more talking than sex.

Lori always needed so much to feel confident he was with her. Sometimes it was too much. He thought love was more simple than Lori made it. It could be draining on him constantly reassuring her. That argument yesterday was their marriage in a nutshell.

He stood and listened to the familiar sounds of his bones as they cracked signaling age and a lot of wear and tear. This life was the life of a sheriff's deputy times one thousand and he'd only lived it less than two years. Even the act of sleeping was a physical and exhausting one. He forgot comfort like this place existed. A thick mattress as opposed to a hard thin imitation on a slab in a prison cell, a plush couch instead of an apple crate or a cement block.

The sun had just begun to pierce the darkness of the sky and he saw a figure walking at a pretty fast clip. Was there trouble? A breach? He trotted out to the street and smiled. He knew that stride. He was about to call out to her but thought better of it, opting to not disturb anyone's last moments of sleep by shouting out. Instead, he moved in her direction. He walked slowly at first because the place was small but he lost track of her. He stopped and stood in the middle of the street. Slowly he surveyed the area, looking for any signs of life when he saw a small light in a window of one of the houses. That had to be her.

Still he entered the home slowly, head on a swivel, expecting danger. There was a round, wooden table in the center of the foyer, and just beyond in another room were nice couches, chairs, and tables. The walls were adorned with fancy light fixtures and paintings. He pulled his pocket flashlight out and read the sign with arrows on the table before him. He headed down the dark hallway. Light illuminated from the last door on the left. He remained cautious as he made his way down the hall, careful not to make a sound. The doors to the other two rooms in the hall were closed.

He stood in the doorway and stared at her. She was focused and didn't notice she had company. Of course she would have her name on a door, just as she did before the world changed. She was born to run shit. Some people were like that and managed to find themselves leading whether it was their desire or not. He was the same; he never set out to be the one they all turned to but it happened. He watched her as she read something while she nibbled on the end of a pen then she appeared to draw a line and then write something.

"So this is where you work?"

She looked up. Always calm. Didn't even appear startled. She had nerves of steel. Speaking of, he eyed her sword leaning against the wall behind her. Having it close probably aided in that confidence. She was halfway out of her seat before she seemed to decide that she would rather remain in her seat. "Hey you."

"What is this place?" He entered the room and stood a few feet from her desk.

"It was the model home. It's what we use as office space."

"We?"

"Aaron and I share this office." She pointed to the desk on the west side of the room. "Deanna, Maggie, Abraham, Sasha and Andrea mostly. Have a seat."

He sat on the couch pushed against the east wall. There were a couple of pictures on the wall and a file cabinet in the corner. There was a Catwoman action figure complete with a whip on her desk and wooden box with the words 'Be Still' inscribed on it.

"So what is this place? Is it like Capitol Hill? The State Department? The White House? Oh, I know. The United Nations."

She smiled. "You are compulsively judgmental, you know that?"

He loved when she smiled.

"Of all the things I've been called all my life I'll take that."

"What you've been called all your life?" She smiled. "Didn't know how devastating it is to be called things like boy scout, sweet, nice guy-"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You never could take a compliment. That's the thing with you nice guys." She mockingly shook her head at him.

"Okay, enough." He walked over and sat on the corner of her desk. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep. Thinking about some of the ideas raised at the meeting the other day. And you?"

"Same."

"So you crept around the house in silence as long as you could before you made a pot of coffee and went for a walk."

He frowned and looked down at his coffee mug then placed it on the corner of her desk. "How did you know?"

"Habits." She stood. "Want a tour?"

It was more of an order than a question. "Still bossy, huh?"

"I'm not bossy," she said.

"I'm the boss," they said in unison.

She stopped so quickly he almost ran into her.

"What?"

She looked back at him over her shoulder. "You remember that?"

He shrugged. He wasn't sure where he heard it; it just seemed to naturally roll off his tongue like peanut butter and jelly. "Does that mean anything?"

"Maybe."

The place was quiet; they were the only ones around.

"You like working when no one is around?"

"Yeah. Always have. I would get to my office a couple of hours early. I was able to beat the morning traffic and get a lot of things done."

They entered Deanna's office. It smelled like fresh flowers or a scented candle. Better than the stale smell of canned air freshener. He wondered how it smelled so nice. Her desk was neat with a couple of pieces of paper with a pen sitting on top of them and two wooden boxes, one on either end of the desk. One was labeled incoming and the other outgoing. He shook his head, Deanna really did live in her own world. In the old world. Probably sat around playing make believe, pretending the shit outside the walls wasn't real, that in a couple of years things would be the same.

The real chaos was on the table where papers, a detailed sketch of the community, and colored pencils were scattered about. Pinned to the wall was a layout of the community homes. They each had a number. The numbers appeared to coincide with the names on a smaller piece of paper tacked next to it.

"Deanna seems like a real piece of work," he said as he turned and saw Michonne standing in the doorway watching him as he had just done to her.

"She's an amazing lady. I have a lot of respect for her."

"Really?"

She smiled. "She may have her weak spots, like we all do, but her vision, her faith-"

He snorted. "Faith." Like the faith Hershel had that made him believe walkers were just sick and waiting on some cure? To this day, he didn't agree with the way Shane made Hershel see the truth, but he was glad Hershel realized the reality of life now.

"No, her faith in people to ultimately do the right thing. She had amazing faith in you, even when you didn't deserve it, until you forced her hand and she contemplated kicking you out."

"I heard about that."

"You had a point. Your way of making them see it sucked. It was vinegar when all you needed was a little honey and time."

"Time we didn't have from what Lori told me."

She nodded. "That's true." She conceded.

Sasha and Andrea's office had a dry erase board with a schedule of shifts and weapons training classes, on Abraham's walls were blueprints for new projects. Their offices were bedrooms.

She led him into a room just off the kitchen. "This was their conference room. Saw no need to change it. This is where we have staff meetings."

"You guys seem to have it all together."

"We," she said. "We have it all together."

He nodded. "I guess I'll have to take your word for it." Instead of sitting in one of the many chairs surrounding the table, he sat on it.

"Still no luck with your memory?" She sat on the table next to him.

"Not really. I keep having moments I feel like I've had before. Like déjà vu. I don't know if they are figments of my imagination or memories."

"Like what?"

"I never mentioned it to anyone but back at my house I remembered where everything was in the kitchen. Like on the first try. Knew where the glasses were, which cupboard the plates were in. Everything."

She looked at him.

"But that could have been because it's probably how Lori had things back at our house."

"Anything else?"

"Just little things. Feelings I get when I see certain things. When I stand in certain spots. There is a sense of familiarity. I'm starting to feel comfortable. I feel like I'm..."

"Home?"

He nodded.

She smiled. "It will all come together." She gripped the edge of the table. "We just have to believe. I still have hope."

"You always do. It's one of the best things about you. I admire it. Through it all you still have that desire to have more. You didn't always but you didn't let the fight pull you under."

"A compliment from Rick Grimes. This leaves me speechless." She smiled.

"Well, see that you remain that way."

She turned and looked at him.

"It, it was a joke." He stammered, feeling the heat of embarrassment as it rose from his chest up to his neck and settled on his cheeks. The longer she remained silent, the longer he felt like a fool.

She smiled. "I know. Groucho Marx."

"You know Groucho Marx?"

"I love Groucho Marx. And that was a lagniappe."

"A what?"

"A freebie. That joke at my expense. I'll let you have it since you don't remember you tell the worst jokes ever. Dad sense of humor. It's embarrassing actually. "

"Lagniappe. I'm a small town sheriff's deputy. Or, at least I was. Why would you use that word on me?"

She leaned against him and gave him a bump with her shoulder. "Don't pretend you're anything but the smartest man I know."

"You've definitely made me smarter in more ways than one. In getting over the fight in me. Realizing that my instincts can deceive me when I'm too far gone." He turned and looked at her. "Between you and Hershel, I feel like I kept my humanity. It means a lot Michonne." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "More than you know."

"I know," she said softly and placed her hand on his that remained on her shoulder.

They stared at each other and they seemed to be silently saying something he couldn't understand.

She hopped off the table and laughed. "Now, if I can just get you to do the downward dog."

Just like that, the moment was gone. He laughed. "You definitely improved my vocabulary but let's leave it at that."

"Not even the cobra? Warrior?"

"I can't even touch my toes."

"You're flexible when it counts."

Back at the prison

It had been thirty days without an accident and Beth deemed it worthy of a celebration. He could have done without the milestone celebration but was reminded that she was a kid and all these kids needed something other than story time. Daryl snared a couple of wild hogs and with the BBQ sauce and a few others things they got from The Big Spot, it was like regular cookout. They even snagged a boom box and CDs while there and currently the sounds of Tom Petty filled the blacktop. With Tyreese's help, Carol and Karen managed to make a tetherball set.

He looked over and saw her seated on the bleachers. Alone. Even though she seemed to connect closely with a few people, him more than anyone else, she still gravitated toward solitude. Sometimes she would stand out and stare at the field for hours. A few times he joined her but most times he felt it would be an intrusion and gave her space. He prepared a plate and headed her way. She smiled as he got closer. He was relieved she was happy to see him. Their last conversation was tense to say the least. Calling her attempts to find The Governor futile was a mistake, one he paid for by her staying away from the prison for weeks.

Carl was upset and blamed Rick for her departure. Rick was anxious and blamed himself. She could take care of herself but no one made it on their own for long. When she returned she acted as if everything was okay and their fight, if it could be called that, was forgotten. He didn't like that, didn't like pretending everything was okay when it wasn't because it was always bubbling under the surface waiting to explode. That was his marriage. He didn't want that with Michonne. Their friendship was better than what his marriage had dissolved to. He needed that to always be the case. Their bond, built on trust and respect, helped keep the prison safe because she demanded he be focused on doing the right things at all times.

He sat down next to her and handed her the plate.

"Thanks." She took a bite. "This is good."

"Yeah, it is. Daryl and Hershel came through with making that smoker. Meat just falls apart."

She began humming and squirming in her seat. He couldn't help but smile at her giddiness. These days good food, not just something edible, made everyone happy. She hummed along with the music.

"What do you know about this?"

"Tom Petty? I love Tom Petty. I love music. In fact, I've been imagining everyone's leitmotif. Pretty sure Tom Petty lyrics would apply to multiple people."

He frowned. "Le what?"

She laughed. "Leitmotif. It's like a musical phrase you associate with a person or place."

"Like a theme song?"

She smiled over at him. "Yeah, like a theme song."

"So you have one for everyone?"

They looked out at the prison residents which grew even more since they brought back the Woodbury survivors. She still didn't know most of them thanks to her need to keep running out of those prison gates. She pretty much knew the ones who were already living in the prison when she showed up.

"Almost. Can't get Carol though." She glanced over at him and laughed. "You want to know, huh?"

"Yeah. What's Carl? You better not say anything like Cat's in the Cradle." He couldn't look bad for wanting to know about his son but honestly, he wanted to know what she thought about him. She and Hershel had codes and morals that he respected. Other than Carl, he cared about no one's opinion of him more than those two.

"Carl." She held her head down. She placed her plate down and ran her hands up and down her thighs. "When I see Carl I think 'May God keep and bless you always. May your wishes all come true. May you always do for others. And let others do for you.'"

"Forever Young. Bob Dylan. That's perfect." That she wished that for his son was why he trusted her with his kids' lives. They all looked out for one another but she had a way about her when it came to Carl that was fierce and maternal. He already had a mother but that kind of love was something you could never have too much of in this world.

"Glad you approve," she said softly.

"Maggie."

"Oh, that's easy." She smiled and her face lit up. "She was the first one I came up with. When I see Maggie I think 'She's a wild one with an angel's face. She's a woman-child in a state of grace.'"

"Beth?"

"Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles."

He smiled. "Perfect." He wasn't sure about her theme song game and wondered what would make her come up with such a thing but so far she was three for three. "And mine?" He stared at her profile as she took a deep breath.

She looked at him. "I haven't come up with a definitive one but I'll give you a couple that have been stuck in my head."

"So complicated there's a list. Don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Okay, let me have it."

"It's hard to remember we're alive for the first time. It's hard to remember we're alive for the last time. It's hard to remember to live before you die. It's hard to remember that our lives are such a short time."

They both sat with that one for a moment.

And the other?"

"Regrets, I've had a few. But then again, too few to mention. I did what I had to do. And saw it through without exemption." She looked at him. "Got a preference?"

He was speechless. That was more profound than he expected. More honest than he cared to admit. "I like them both."

"Really?"

"Yep and at least it's not shot a man in Reno just to watch him die."

She laughed. "Johnny Cash. When I think of him I think of Daryl. Haven't come up with it yet. Just trying to figure it out."

"What's yours?"

"Mine?"

"Yeah. Can't think about everyone else and not think about yourself."

"Are you talking about me or yourself?" She grabbed her plate and took another bite.

It was true. They were more alike than either of them would care to admit. And not thinking about themselves was something they had in common.

"Don't you want to know Lori's?"

What her song may be never entered his mind and that probably made him an asshole. He held his head down. "Sure."

"When I think of her I think-"

"No." He didn't want to know and he didn't want to pretend to want to know but she continued to speak and he interrupted her again. "Michonne."

She kept going and he wasn't sure what she was saying. All he knew was he didn't want to hear it.

"Stop." His voice was louder than he anticipated. He looked around but no one seemed to be paying attention to them except Lori. He locked eyes with her momentarily before she broke eye contact. He turned his attention back to Michonne who was staring at him, her face full of confusion.

"What?"

He shook his head. "You gotta stop. Stop trying to put my marriage back together." He held his hands in front of him, not sure of what he was doing with them. Maybe it was emphasis. "It's not going to happen. You can't fix us. And even if you did, the emptiness you feel would still be there. Then you'd need something else to take away from the hole in your heart. It's not your job."

"That's not-"

He leaned in closer to her. "Then what is it? Why are you trying so hard? Why are you fighting to give me something that I don't even want for myself?" His voice more gentle.

He sat patiently and waited for her, knowing whatever it was wouldn't be easy for her to admit to herself.

"Because I can't give Hershel his leg. Can't bring back Andrea's sister. Can't..."

"Can't bring your son back," he said softly. "And I'm sorry for that." The idea of losing a child made him sick. If he lost Carl or Judith he wasn't sure he could come back from that. She told him about that time, before she saved Andrea, when she roamed the countryside for weeks alone. Her strength was unparalleled. He wasn't close to having that courage during that type of pain. He admired her. Looked up to her just as much as Carl did. His son's word for her was awesome and he agreed.

"So it's either find The Governor or fix your marriage. You telling me I have a better chance of finding and killing him?"

He shrugged.

"Maybe the next time Daryl is out I'll go with him to find someone for Hershel."

"How about you find someone for yourself."

"Eh, boring."

"What do you want for yourself? Your life?"

She held her head down. "I just want to do more than breathe. I want more happiness and joy than pain and sadness. I guess that's too much to ask for." She looked at him, all eyes wide and hopeful. "Is that too much to ask for now?"

"I don't know what life is supposed to be now. Waking up and seeing my boy and my little girl is life. I guess that's why I enjoy the garden. Growing things for people to eat. It gives me a purpose when I wake up each morning. But this life has given me time to have real conversations with my boy about the man I want him to be."

"And what kind of a man must you be in this world?"

"I'm still working on that. I mean, being kind can get you killed but I don't want him to be a monster. He's a kid; it's easy to forget that. He watches us and he doesn't know how to make the distinctions we make. When to pull the trigger and when to make peace. Sometimes we get that wrong. I was right about Tomas but wrong about Oscar. He lost his life to help save Maggie and Glenn. I turned Tyreese and Sasha away." He looked at her. "I was ready to hand you over to The Governor."

"But you didn't."

"No, I didn't. My grandfather always said to love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe."

"Wise words."

"Yep. Just don't know how to apply it to the world today."

Carl was surrounded by enough good people, that between them all, they would steer him in the right direction.