XXI. Home is where you Go

…when you run out of places.

Sasha and Tyreese are not really her siblings and she'll never have such a strong bond with them as they have with each other. Still, them and Morgan are the last thing resembling a family she's got left. When she lost Mike and Andre it was them who left everything behind, even risking losing their jobs, to go to the city and comfort her.

It still makes her feel like shit that she wasn't able to do the same for them when they needed her the most. Karen's disease was something Tyrese wanted to deal with completely alone. But after Bob Sasha could've used Michonne's support. And the woman had wanted to give it to her, but Morgan had forbidden it. It had been a dangerous time and getting inside the community would have meant possible death for both of them.

Her making this trip may also mean the same, but she's gotta make sure that the last piece of family she has left are safe and sound and away from any threat that might derive as a consequence to being acquainted with her.

Be careful on the way, woman. Philip is the kind of man who doesn't leave any lose ends. He may still want to take revenge and he knows people's weaknesses.

She smiles as she exits the bus and the first thing she spots is their smiling faces. She grabs her small suitcase and makes her way through the crowd. An elbow suddenly pushes in between her ribs, making her wince, and she turns to find a white man staring straight into her eyes with an expression of deep disgust in his face.

"Watch where yer goin' nigger." Blank rage shakes her entire body at the slur.

"Excuse me?" The man doesn't give her a second look as he makes his way past the crowd, leaving her shaking with anger. She takes a step towards him, but resolves it's not worth her time. Her eyes graze over the pair of sheriffs standing not so far away who clearly witnessed the situation and are eyeing her as if she was the one who misbehaved.

Of course.

Sasha's hand on her shoulder makes her forget her contempt in a matter of seconds and she turns to hug her tightly.

"Welcome back, sister." The woman says, her voice trembling. There are tears in her eyes as they disentangle.

"Home sweet home. Aight?" Tyreese comments as they approach him. "You barely stepped in here and they already showin' you their southern hospitality."

"Tyreese, not now." Sasha chastises him. Michonne smiles at the broad man and comes up to hug him. His arms sweep around her and pull her from the ground and she laughs.

"You thinner than before." He comments as he sets her down. "Kept on exercisin'? Eating's very important, 'Chonne, stop skippin' meals all the dang time."

"Home sweet home. You barely stepped in here and Tyreese be already actin' like he's your dad." Michonne laughs at the way both siblings look at each other, like they were about to start pulling from each other's hair again.

"I missed you guys so much…"

Tyrese's gaze travels carefully towards the policemen behind Michonne and suddenly the awareness of their surroundings becomes a little too dangerous.

"Let's go." The dark-skinned man presses in a low tone. "Those assholes be looking at us funny."

Once they're on the highway Michonne takes a few minutes to analyze her companions. At first sight it seems they haven't changed one bit, but she knows them better than that. They're more serious and quiet than she remembers, and carry with them that certain atmosphere of heaviness, rage and something missing. Tyreese catches her eyes through the rear-view mirror and she looks away, immediately.

"So, how your trip go?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"The usual. Hateful." Sasha snickers sourly and turns around.

"If you did visit us more often you'd get more used to it."

"How 'bout you two visiting' me? Or comin' with me for that matter?" Both siblings look at each other.

"Come where? North?" Sasha asks, sarcastically. "Stop giving us that tale that everything's better there."

"It's not a tale, it's true." The woman throws her an unbelieving look. "It's not perfect, but…"

"It ain't perfect…" Sasha laughs at that and shakes her head. "That a weak excuse for a lot of shit we come to accept just because."

Michonne purses her lips at that and Tyrese seems to notice threat of a fight in the air.

"Our lives are here, 'Chonne. And they ain't perfect either." He comments. "No point in tryna change 'em now."

Michonne sighs at that and turns to Sasha, who's still eyeing her up and down from her place in the front seat.

"Why didn't Roger and Mila come with you?" The woman's expression darkens.

"We don't bring them to town if we can avoid it. It's the place where they got Bob." Michonne nods gravely and stays silent.

"I made ham hocks an' beans." Tyreese ventures, changing the subject. "Grandma's recipe."

"Sasha help you?" The woman asks, tentative, throwing a sideways glance at her 'sister'. Tyreese guffaws at that.

Sasha is good at a lot of things; cooking is not one of them. The woman glares daggers at them and crosses her arms.

"Big tickle, you two."

-o-

Her small town is the same as she last saw it. In some ways better, in some ways worse, but never quite as good as it should be. Its roads are still mostly dirt and its houses are quite worn out by the weather and the lack of maintenance. There's a group of children playing football on the street, blocking the road. Tyreese pulls his head out the window and whistles hard, and the boys run out of the way. The car makes its way to a small house on the right side of the street. There's a 14 year old girl sitting on the porch, talking to a pair of boys as her hands work a knife on what Michonne guesses is a piece of wood.

She jumps to her feet as she sees them and waves in Michonne's direction.

"Auntie 'Chonne!" She screams as the woman opens the door and steps out of the car, and throws herself at her.

"Mila!" She looks the girl up and down with a bright smile. "You. Are. Huge."

"Been two years since you last seen her. Of course she huge." Tyreese comments, stepping out of the car and glaring at the two boys who still stand on his porch. "What up with you, gentlemen?"

One of the boys steps up with a small packet in his hands.

"You Michonne Johnson, right?" He asks her. She nods. The boy hands her the packet. "My dad wanna welcome you back."

Dad... She widens at him.

"Duane?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Oh, my god. You're also huge…" The boy narrows his eyes, clearly trying to remember if he's ever seen her before. "You probably don't remember me. I met you when you were three." Andre looked a lot like him, she thinks sourly. Maybe I'm seeing how my son would've looked like at twelve.

"Come in, Roger be waitin'." Mila pulls from her sleeve like she used to do when she was five. She's still a little girl, Michonne realizes.

Tyreese looks back at both boys; this time clearly angry.

"Somethin' else?" The guys shake their heads at the same time.

"See you, Mila. Goodnight mister. Ma'am." Duane nods as he walks away, dragging his friend behind him. The girl's flirty smile disappears when her father looks at her in disapproval.

"What?" She asks, innocently, before heading inside the house.

-o-

"Hello, lil Roger. How you doin'?" The six year old is sitting on a corner of the room, playing with an old fire truck made of wood. He's got dark, curly hair like his mama's, and a pair of very big, round and dark eyes. It takes a while for him to notice her, but when he does he smiles, seemingly recognizing her, which is strange: it was two years ago when he saw her the last time.

He extends her the toy he's playing with, but Sasha takes it before Michonne can.

"Not now, Peanut. Aunt Chonne's really tired." It takes a second for her to realize what she's just said, but when she does she turns to Michonne with mortification in her eyes.

Peanut. She noticed.

A few months ago that simple word would have made her cry. But Sasha hasn't seen her in a year and Michonne has managed to control it since then.

"Don't worry."

"So sorry…"

"It's ok, sister." She tries to take the toy from Sasha's hand, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'm not too tired. I can play with him." She can feel everyone's stares set on her. Tyreese's, Mila's, Sasha's… even Roger's. Though, he's probably more concerned about his mom giving him back his toy than about her.

"As you wish." Sasha's hold on the toy loosens and as Michonne crouches to sit on the floor she hears the woman take a few steps back, still feeling her doubtful eyes on her back.

She reciprocates his bright smile with one of her own. Tears burn on the back of her eyes, but she's not afraid of the memories anymore. She extends him the fire truck and the boy takes it, putting it on the floor and making it roll in her direction.

They play like this for an hour. The boy never says a word; he just looks up and smiles. And Michonne could swear he senses her turmoil.

At some point he comes up to her and hugs her tightly, sitting on her legs. It takes all her strength not to burst in tears right then, but she manages to hold them back and take him in her arms, squishing him lovingly.

She strokes his curly hair in her hand and feels his breathing, the beat of his tiny heart and the slight pressure of his arms around her neck. Andre's memory burns inside her, and she welcomes the pain and the melancholy, like Carol told her to do. It's a part of healing; it's a part of getting past this.

This is why she's here. Because maybe, just maybe, she deserves a second chance. And she needs to find out.

Sasha's hand is on her shoulder and she disentangles herself from the boy, turning to her.

"Dinner ready." She whispers. "Dinner Roger?"

The boy looks at his mom, then back at Michonne, and throws his arms around her once more. Both women smile at that.

"He's very affectionate." Michonne comments as she gets up and carries him to the table, Sasha by her side.

"He cannot talk, so he expresses himself in other ways. But he always got a soft spot for you in particular."

As they all sit, Tyreese looks over at her.

"You getting over it, huh?" He asks and a jump from the table tells her both his sister and daughter have kicked him.

"In a way." She answers with a smile. The man nods, throwing both women on his sides a judging look.

"Good." He extends his hands and Mila and Sasha take them. They look at Michonne questionably and the woman sighs, joining them. She keeps her eyes open as the man and his family start praying.

-o-

The town still got no phone-lines and no water supply. It takes a couple minutes for her to remember that as she takes a look out the window at the old well outside. She's too tired to go pick up water, she figures she'll just have to go to sleep like this, covered in the city dirt. She's not used to this kind of life anymore, she thinks grimly. Or maybe it's just the shock of the first day.

She also misses Daryl. Where is he right now? Probably working after hours or lying on his couch, smoking a whole pack of cigarettes as usual. Maybe if he's lucky he could be out with Rick. Although that doesn't make her too happy. Pretty women at bars are always looking for lonely gentlemen.

I really wish you were here. I know it sounds like I'm too needy, but...

She sighs. She's never been a dependent woman, from a very young age she learned to detach herself from people and get things done by her own hand. Normally, the more time she spent alone, the better she felt with herself. That was, until she got to experience real loneliness. Now every time she attaches herself to someone she just sinks her claws on that person, scared that they might disappear at any minute. Or at least that's how she feels with him. Maybe that's the reason she ran away so quickly.

As she opens one of the drawers on her night table she finds her daddy's cross. A small, dusty, wooden object hanging from a lonely string that used to hang from her father's neck. She remembers Carol's words as she takes it in her fingers and blows the dust off it.

I know that if he does exist, he kept me alive for a reason.

Maybe you're right.

Out of impulse, she puts it on, tying the string behind her neck, and fiddles with it for a while. The crucifix feels alien against her collarbone, like it doesn't really want to be there.

Shake it out - Florence & the Machine

A/N: This chapter is short and it seems like not much happened, but I didn't want to connect it to the next one. I want to wait a little. Get the atmosphere right before I jump into the plot of this second part. Yes, since we are no longer in the city I consider this change of scenery an announcement for the second part. The situation has changed when it comes to the main character's relationship and the dynamic of the crime.

PD: I really wanna add some race problematic to the story, considering the time period and the circumstances, but I don't wanna make it forced or false. It's not like I'm completely oblivious on the subject, I belong to a racial 'minority' after all (well, in my nowadays environment anyways), which is why I wanna be careful. So if you guys see any red flag, please let me know immediately.