A/N: So yeah, it got a little dusty in the room when I read the last few reviews! I really don't know what to say, except that I bow at you guys' feet for sticking with me through this. Sometimes, I write and just wonder if I'm making a giant mess. So validation from strangers is like a huge thing for me LOL. Seriously though, I can't say enough what it means to me. I sound like a broken record, I know, but it could not be any truer. So again, THANK YOU.

14: end of the road

Daryl and Michonne had been on the road for four days, both of them awkwardly avoiding the inevitable conversation about how she'd left the prison, and more importantly, Rick. But lucky for Michonne, they'd been so busy chasing leads that there hadn't been much time to talk.

On one of Michonne's previous outings, she was lucky enough to stumble upon the body of one of the Governor's lackeys. Shumpert was his name, if she recalled correctly. She surmised that the other guy, Martinez, if not The Governor, wouldn't be far behind, but was never able to find him on her own. Which was why she had enlisted Daryl for this particular excursion. He was the best tracker she knew, even if the only one, and her instinct to ask him along had proven fruitful.

He was able to lead them to an entire camp, about forty miles from the prison, where Martinez seemed to be running the whole thing. They watched the group for a day, seeing him lead a small group off site, most likely on a supply run. Michonne was anxious to get to him, knowing he was their best shot at finding The Governor, but Daryl had convinced her that they needed to play this cool. They would wait for his return, no matter how long it took, and then question the bastard.

They had been waiting for a day already and were becoming restless. "Shoulda brought some cards," Daryl realized as he finished his dinner – a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies and a bottle of water.

"I have a couple of books, if you feel like reading some Dostoyevsky," Michonne offered as she rolled down the car window. She'd read Crime and Punishment more times than she could count, even before the turn, but always brought it with her on these trips. It kept her focused in some strange way.

Daryl rolled his eyes at the thought, knowing he wouldn't get past the first page. "I guess that's all you can do when you're out here alone," he realized.

"Yeah. I'm also used to the silence," she shrugged. "You can take a nap if you want, I can take watch."

"I'm good." He shifted in his seat, letting out a loud yawn as he did so. "Should wait 'til dark, at least. Then we can each do an hour on, hour off."

She nodded, still staring out the window towards the mystery camp. Her stomach began to growl, but she couldn't bring herself to stuff down another pack of dry crackers at the moment.

"There's some Thin Mints left if you want 'em," Daryl offered, having heard her bodily functions in the quiet of the car.

"I'm good," she declined, watching several walkers amble past the campsite she'd been studying. The people there didn't seem especially adept at survival, from what she had observed. She wondered how they'd made it so far.

She appreciated that everyone in her group was skilled at killing walkers, at the very least. It sometimes astonished her when she came across people that still had no idea what they were doing, roughly two years into the apocalypse. No one in her group relied on one person to save them all – it was a cohesive effort to keep each other safe. She couldn't imagine any other way to live in this world.

She made a silent bet with herself that she'd hear someone scream within a matter of minutes, and she'd been right. She laughed to herself at the ridiculousness of it.

"What's so funny?" Daryl wondered.

"I just don't know how some people got this far, y'know?"

"Oh. Yeah. I think most of the people left in this world are either crazy, or been hidin' behind someone crazy."

That sounded about right to her. You'd have to be out of your mind to be able to adapt to the shit they were going through. "You sayin' you're crazy too?" she attempted to joke, even though she wasn't in a particularly light mood.

"Too?" he looked at her.

She almost forgot she wasn't talking to Rick. They always had that common thread of being a little bit out of it, and often laughed about it, even if only to keep from crying. But Daryl had no idea she talked to her dead boyfriend, kept pet walkers, or that she was cripplingly closed off. "Nothin'," she shook her head absently.

Daryl stayed quiet for a long time. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he was pretty sure her silence took her back to Rick and whatever happened there. He'd been wanting to ask her about it since the minute they left, but knew he wouldn't get an answer just based on her demeanor. Her body language said she was literally closed for discussion. But she seemed a little less cagey now, and he knew all too well, closed mouths didn't get fed, and unasked questions didn't get answered. So he went for it. "Can I ask you somethin' personal?"

Michonne knew what the question would be, and she really didn't want to discuss it. But hell, it couldn't hurt any worse than she already did. The damage had been done. "What."

"You and Rick. What's goin' on there?"

She coughed, feeling like the question had smacked her, even though she'd prepared herself for it. "I don't know," was the short answer. And that was the truth. She knew she had immense feelings for Rick, much against her better judgment, but she didn't know how to reconcile that with the disdain he had for her at the moment.

"But there is something."

She met Daryl's gaze and nodded.

"Have y'all… done anything yet? I mean, how far did your… 'talks' go?" He felt unbelievably uncomfortable asking this, but they didn't have shit else to do, and he honestly wondered how far gone they were. Having seen Rick go down the rabbit hole after Lori, he wasn't sure what this thing with Michonne might have meant for his friend's sanity – especially if it didn't end well.

"We've done a lot," she confirmed with an unnoticeable smirk playing across her features, thinking of all those fantastic nights they'd shared.

He nodded. That made sense, given how differently Rick had been acting – the immense highs when she was there, followed by unexplainable lows when she left again. He'd seen him in better and worse moods than ever in the prior month. And that was saying a lot. "Did you know he was gonna step down from leading the group?"

"I… was not consulted." She let out a perturbed sigh, watching a puff of cold air follow it. "He has his reasons, though."

"I know," Daryl agreed. "Rick ain't never gave me a reason to doubt him, ain't bout to start now."

She wished she had thought about that before she fucked everything up. Rick had done a lot to be a good friend, a good lover, a good companion to her, but all she did was run. Even worse, she couldn't even pinpoint a good reason for it. Just plain ass fear. "You ever been in love with anybody, Daryl?"

He didn't even have to think for a moment to know the answer to that. "Nope."

"Well it sucks."

Daryl's eyebrows knitted in a bit of surprise. He knew she was implying that she was in love with Rick, and he wasn't sure what to do with that information. Love was the last thing in the world he was qualified to give any advice on.

"You think he's in love with you?"

"I have no idea." That wasn't true. She and Rick were so much alike, she figured he had to be feeling at least some of what she did. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been pushing so hard when she pushed back.

"Yeah you do," Daryl chuckled. He might not have known shit about love, but he could read people pretty damn well. "I don't know what y'all were fightin' about before we left, but this life is too damn short for that. Y'all seemed to be havin' fun, whatever you were doin'. It ain't gotta be about any more than that."

"I'm not even sure what that means anymore. 'Having fun.'" Rick made her feel alive again, for sure. But the thing was, he made her feel. And there was no fun in that. It was scary, more than anything.

Back at the prison, Rick and Carl were tending to their farming duties and delighting in the fact that spring was quickly approaching. The mornings were cold, but by noon, the sun had warmed things considerably, and it was pretty nice to be outside, basking in the day.

"It's a beautiful day," Rick noted thoughtfully, seeing Carl take a break to gaze at the sky. "Reminds me why we try so hard to stay alive."

Carl agreed with this assessment, but he had other things on his mind. Michonne had been gone with Daryl for almost a week, and he knew his dad had to have been bothered by it, just like all the other times, but he had been acting as if everything was fine. In fact, he had been overly cheerful since they left, and Carl knew that didn't make any sense. He was worried about his old man.

"Hey, Dad?"

Rick had gone back to pulling weeds, but paused and turned back to Carl. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he squinted, knowing it couldn't have been anything good. Anything inconsequential, he would've come right out and asked. The question before the question meant something serious.

"Why do you get so mad every time Michonne leaves here?"

Yep, there it was. Rick let out a long sigh, unsure of whether he wanted to have this conversation. "I'm not mad, son."

"Yeah, but… you usually are."

"I just worry about her, I guess."

"Is that why you're pretending not to be mad now?" he furthered. "Because she's with Daryl?"

Truthfully, he didn't know how to feel about her being out there with Daryl. He was relieved she wasn't alone, of course, but watching her run from him and into Daryl's car was aggravating, to say the least. "Pretending not to be mad," he chuckled. He took a seat in the grass and gestured for Carl to do the same. "What makes you think that?"

"I know how you are when you're really happy. It's on your face. You're around people more. Willingly," Carl was explaining. "This week, you've been laughing and all that, but it's not real. You still keep to yourself and only stay when you have to. I can see it, Dad."

His son was so insightful, it bordered on annoying sometimes. He was like his mother in that way. "Carl…"

"I know you worry about her. I do too. But there's something else there. I don't know if you're sad or angry… maybe both. But I don't like it."

"I'm sorry," he offered genuinely, hating that his son was able to read him so easily. "I don't mean to be that way."

"I know," Carl nodded. "I just wanted to know why, I guess."

"I wish I had a reason for you. It's just… the way I feel."

"Is it because you like her?"

"I like everybody here, Carl."

"You know what I mean, Dad. You spend more time with her than you do with anyone."

"I think you claim that title," Rick chuckled lightly, trying to ignore the fact that he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation.

"You don't go to the tombs with me every night," he countered cautiously. He wondered if Michonne had ever shared the fact that he knew this about them, but it seemed she hadn't.

"How do you know about that?" Rick frowned.

"I just do," Carl shrugged. "I know you guys talk. A lot."

"And how does that make you feel?"

He wasn't sure how he felt about it, quite honestly. He wanted his dad to be happy, especially after the way his marriage had ended, but he found himself feeling a bit jealous whenever he headed off to be with Michonne. He knew it was irrational, because his dad spent plenty of time with him, but he never seemed to tire of Michonne's company. He didn't know why his dad didn't feel the same way about him.

"Honestly?" Carl began with a sigh. "It bothered me a little."

Rick nodded understandingly, hating that he ever made his son feel that way. "Bothered?"

"Bothers," he admitted quietly. "Don't get me wrong. I know we spend all day together, and I know you're always there for me. It's just… I dunno," he exhaled again. "We never really just sit and talk, like how it used to be. It's always a lecture, or some instructions, or maybe something about Judith. But Michonne said you guys talk about just, like, random stuff, and I just kinda wonder why you never do that with me."

"Jesus," Rick chuckled to himself, unsure of what to say. He honestly felt like he was on the verge of tears, hearing that this was how his son felt. He had no idea. He would've loved to sit around and shoot the shit with his kid. The idea just never crossed his mind. "Carl, I had no idea that's what you'd want."

"Well duh. What kind of kid doesn't want their dad to be their best friend?"

"A few months ago, I'd say you were," Rick joked, recalling how disrespectful Carl had been after The Governor's last attack. Things had changed a lot in just a few short months, and he was glad for that.

"There's no reason to bring up old stuff," Carl smiled. He was glad to have been able to say this to his dad without feeling like a whiny little kid. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you love her? Michonne, I mean."

Rick's eyes darted up at the question, stunned that something like that was even on his son's radar. He had feelings for her, for sure, but even he hadn't had the chance to explore whether it was love. What could Carl know about it? "Why do you ask that?"

"I just get this vibe," Carl looked his dad in the eye as he spoke. "I know you like her. I don't even know if you've even kissed each other or whatever, but just seeing how you are with each other... I don't know." He shrugged, not even sure if he had a full grasp of what he meant. He loved Michonne himself, but he was asking something different about his dad's relationship with her. "Like, are you in love with her?"

This was a heavy conversation. Rick found himself chuckling at how baffled he was by it all. "You've observed a lot, huh?"

"Not much else to do around here," he smiled shyly.

"I wish I knew what to say."

"If you're in love with her, I'm okay with it."

"Are you now?"

"I mean, I don't want you to hold back because of me or what I just said."

"That's sweet of you to say, but trust me, that's not somethin' you need to worry about." Rick appreciated that his son was worried about him, and wished he could've calmed his fears a bit more. But the truth was, he wasn't the big impediment in he and Michonne's relationship. If they had any chance of a future, it was on Michonne to fix it at this point.

It was near dawn when Daryl spotted Martinez and two others were returning from their expedition. He didn't hesitate to wake Michonne and let her know that it was time to move. Without any words, the two of them quickly crept across the field separating them, knowing they needed to take the trio before they got any nearer to their camp. When they got close, Daryl approached them directly while Michonne skulked behind.

"Easy there," Daryl greeted them, his crossbow pointed directly at Martinez' right eye.

Michonne had her sword readied to take off the other two's heads at the slightest of movements.

"Don't fuckin' move," he added, making a silent promise that neither one of them would hesitate to kill them.

"You come to rob us?" Martinez asked calmly. He recognized them instantly and wouldn't have been surprised in the least.

"Just wanna talk, pretty boy."

"Why don't I believe that," one of the other guys inserted with his hands raised.

"No one is talking to you," Michonne growled from behind him. "We want him."

"I'll talk if you let my men go," Martinez offered composedly. "They got nothin' to do with this."

"You've tried to kill me three times now," Daryl reminded him gruffly. "You lucky any of y'all are still breathin'."

"Fair enough."

"Martinez, who the fuck are these people," the other guy questioned shakily. He didn't have plans on dying that night, and certainly not at the hands of another person.

"Just some adversaries I had in a past life."

"That life caught up with you," Daryl assured him, moving closer in on his target. "Where's your boss?"

"Don't have one," Martinez answered confidently. "I run this place."

"You wanna die for being a smart ass?" Michonne scowled at him. "You know who he's talking about."

"Swear to god, I don't know."

"Karen told us you and Shumpert were the only ones that left alive, and you went with him. Where the fuck is he?"

He stared at the woman that had taken The Governor's eye, knowing that his disappearance must have been eating away at her. It was obvious she hated the man the moment she laid eyes on him. He always had a weird admiration for her, and the fact that she saw through that monster immediately. "I honestly wish I could tell you, Michonne."

"Don't say my name like you know me."

"Fine," he shrugged with his hands still up in the air. "Me and Shumpert did leave with him, but it wasn't long before we left him altogether. He was fuckin' crazy, you know that. He killed all those people and then wouldn't speak. Just stared into the distance, as if they'd taken something from him. It was so weird," he recalled. "So we left. Haven't seen him since probably two or three days after you did."

"Where did you leave him?" Daryl asked, his voice already thick with disappointment.

"We drove for a couple of hours before the gas got low. We were probably in Fairburn. Not too far from Atlanta, honestly."

Michonne and Daryl looked at each other, unsure of what to do with that information. That was the best lead they had, but if The Governor was anywhere near Atlanta, finding him would be next to impossible.

"That's all you know?" Daryl demanded one last time before they went on their way.

"Swear to god," Martinez repeated. "He could honestly be anywhere by now."

The two of them let their three hostages go and cautiously headed back to their car, the frustration palpable.

"It was a longshot anyways," Daryl mumbled as he hopped back into their SUV. "Least we ain't gotta be gone two weeks."

She didn't know how to feel about that. Not only had her biggest lead turned to shit before her eyes, but now she had to go back to the prison and deal with the mess she'd made with Rick. This had not been her week, to say the least.

Noting her silence, Daryl glanced over to her. "You all right?"

She wasn't sure of how to respond to that. If she were being honest, the answer was probably no. "I'm fine."