I feel like I say this each time; sorry for taking so long in posting. I have to wait until the Muse strikes me as just right. One of my wonderful reviewers pointed out that Skya needs to find something else to do and make new relationships unrelated to Merle which is excellent insight. Very true. This fic started out because I was unsatisfied with how the writers ended him. Merle if authentic (and Merle is a straight up kind of guy) would not have done what Rick had said to do; not in the way he did it. Michonne would have never let him go it alone she would have followed in time to save him; especially being that it takes time to herd walkers, she and Daryl would have gotten there in time. Also the Governor was still getting used to his lack of depth perception due to his missing right eye (his dominant visual side); would have not been as accurate to hit him mid sternum. This little (yeah right) fic is now becoming an ensemble fic. It will be another few chapters to finish the hiatus time between season 3 & 4 then we will go behind the scenes before veering off into AU.

Anyway I want to thank my wonderful reviewer Seerwood who also has a pretty wonderful story. Definitely read it. Please Please review if you read it really helps me

Hooky from Prison

Michonne

9 hours ago just after breakfast

I've been watching her. Skya. I watch her practicing with her bow as she shoots arrow after arrow into her targets. Her hair is long braided and rolled up into a bun. She wears a long-sleeved shirt and pants with plenty of pockets. Smart. I've seen too many people get caught by their hair or by too bulky clothing when facing the dead. Her stance is a little off. She sometimes pulls the bow only with the string instead of pulling the string and pushing the bow hand apart. She also needs to work on her arm strength. I notice that she hyper extends her wrist and rotates her elbow. I wince as she gets stung by the bowstring yet again. I watch her easy careless stride as she goes to pull her spent arrows. No tension in her body. I don't get why she don't spend some time with Daryl, but here she is trying to learn on her own.

Dumb. Stubborn. Too damn proud. Maybe a liability or maybe not. Still she's the one that tolerated Merle and his crazy brand of bullshit for the last couple of months. I can't imagine how she chose to save his worthless ass instead of ringing his damn fool neck. I've never seen someone in such a hurry to trip himself up; all the while trying to get you to accept that he believes that he is doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. It's funny how he succeeded in spite of nearly killing his own idiot self.

I watch how she doesn't know what to do with herself now that her patient is healed. Thanks to her, he will have his extra chance at survival and use it well. . . or not, depending if the ignorant fool can learn. At least she did her work well, very well and now the rest is up to him.

She is finished collecting her arrows as the wind comes up and blows a piece of her hair out of her braid. She pushes it back smiling, squinting slightly in the sun. She is a lucky one; her little ones are still alive; I hate her a little bit for that. How did she do it I wonder? She doesn't seem to be much of a fighter or a survivalist. She isn't much for mixing with others, so she didn't go the route of the Governor- lying through his teeth saying anything to manipulate others to complete his dirty work- telling them that is gotta be done for the good of the community. Bullshit. She didn't sleep with the alpha male for protection like Andrea used to, or she would have been spending more time with Rick or Daryl. She somehow figured it out on her own and was able to protect her kids by herself. How could she succeed when I lost my son? No! I won't let myself go there! Not Yet!

She must be extra smart or good at disappearing. I can respect that. It's time she finds something worth doing other than wiping butts and sewing torn flesh. I have a feeling she will be glad to do something else of value. I turn away from the shade of the wall that hid me, rolling my shoulders working the kinks out of my neck. What I wouldn't give for some strong sexy hands and a hot bath. If wishes were airplanes this would be a damn airport.

I silently smirk to myself and snort. Yes she might do just fine. Loyal, smart, quick learner can be quiet when she needs to and motivated to learn the right skills. I have some thinking to do. I need someone that is quiet and can get in and out, use her brain. Hershel has asked me to stock up on Meds and take her with me because she knows how to find things in a nursing home. He tells me that she used to work in one. She can aim a bow and use a gun. I saw her use one to protect her kids when Daryl and I found her in the abandoned school. My feet take me in the direction of Hershel's cell. Time to get a list of things and talk to him about what nursing home to pick. I'm not driving for more than an hour. Not with Daryl and Merle going off hunting today too.

I listen to the clanking of the people tidying up from the meal and beginning the unending job of cleaning of walker infested gore from clothing. It's amazing the things that we used to take for granted highlighted by the routine filthiness of life without convenience (or electricity). Damn that stupid virus . . . whoever let that little bug out . . . Damn them into eternal hell. The surviving Woodbury folks nod and smile at me still unsure of their function here. I smirk at them, but realize we can't all be the survivor type.

Still that Murderous psycho is out there somewhere. I know his type. He will be back. People like him have no limits in what they will do. Yes he's coming back and we don't know how or when but we have to be ready. We have to have plentiful supplies both defense, medical and foodstuff. He isn't human anymore, the governor. He can't control it. The rage the loss; it uncovered something that was missing and caged in his soul. Losing everything set it free, and the bitter numbness takes over and makes him capable of the worst things imaginable and some unimaginable. I rub my neck as I'm thinking; the stiffness getting worse with my cheerful thoughts and I shift my too hot dredlocks off my back for a moment. How did the numbness lead him into atrocity while it just left me . . .numb. I lost everything too but I didn't lose my ability to stop myself. That man is as vacant inside as a walker; the only difference is he can still think.

Time to find Hershel.

I walk down the hall noting the cold in the air, it's just about winter. I still miss Andrea. I can see her, the sunlight on her face, making her beautiful green eyes shine, the breeze making her hair dance around her shoulders. Shivering in the cold as we huddled together, hearing the clank of my ugly pets, the inhuman assholes that killed my boy. NO! Never again I won't think. I won't feel. I won't burn with rage. I won't lose control. Much better to be ice than fire. What was I thinking about? Oh yeah the winter and Andrea. How can someone so smart have such crappy taste in men that she was willing to believe anything that psycho said? She should have never gone back-like he would have listened to anything she said-he was lying the whole time-I saw it the moment I met him. I could even see it in Merle's eyes that he knew; even if he would never admit it.

Damn I doubt Skya and I'm rambling worse than those walkers.

I listen to the myriad sounds of people. I hear the baby and chuckle to myself sadly. I hear the soft voices of the Woodbury women pouring water for the wash. Cleaning the plates and breakfast supplies. Laughing softly together. I wave at the pack of them watching how they appear as a group of chickens clucking pleasantly as they work. Smiling and nodding completing the image as I quietly walk by still in search of the crippled old vet. I hear his creaky old man laugh from down the hall as I pick my pace up and continue to his cell.

Hershel

I've asked Michonne to take Skya on a run for medications and supplies. We could use some antibiotics, dressings, medications for common conditions, hygiene supplies and as many oxygen tanks as is possible. I watch as Michonne comes charging down the hall like a ninja on a mission. Her dreds swaying side to side as she walks, her sword scabbard bumping on her back and hip. Her dark skin shimmering with a light sheen of sweat glinting in the cool morning light as she walks briskly down the hallway to my cell.

"What do you think Michonne will you take her? She knows her way around in a nursing home better than any of us including me." I say as I look at her trying to read her face for once. I stop sorting long enough to dig up a list of needed medications and supplies.

"Taking care of Merle and the flu victims have used up most of our medical supplies and all of them are much more susceptible to pneumonia and other respiratory conditions". I had to break ice in my sink today so I know that winter is coming, in fact it's almost here. So it's time to prepare for the inevitable; another bout of the flu come winter and spring.

Michonne quirks an eyebrow at me and smirks; "I hope her ignorant dumbassed self doesn't get me killed. She is stubborn, not much of a fighter but she is tolerable with a bow, a pistol and a hatchet. She is smart enough to have a reinforced jacket with duct tape like Milton used to if you can believe that. So she can use her brain. But I don't know if she's going to freeze when she sees a walker up close" She shakes her elegant head and straightens her shoulders looking me in the eye.

"Spill it Hershel why are you really doing this. It's a huge risk for both of us. It better be for the right reason. And you owe it to both of us to be straight with me now" She tilts her head while giving me the eye; she shrugs eliciting pops from her neck and back.

I scratch my beard for a moment chuckling a little before adding "I think that she will be much more skilled at getting into the nurses' cart and raiding the oxygen room than any of us and you need her for that. She moves more quickly by far than I do. Of course that can be said about anyone here maybe even the baby. I also realize that the weather is approaching and thanks to Merle and the flu victims we are low on antibiotics, hypertension medications, sterile dressings, pain medications, saline solution, IV bags, tape, linens, wetting pads, oxygen tanks, nasal cannulas, tubing. So no this not a whim or training for Skya, this is a medical need.

I gently handed her my list. "Please".

Michonne sighed "Okay Hershel. I get it. I'll take her but I stiIl think you have an agenda. I'll give you a break this time but I expect you to be straight with me from here on out. You need supplies but I think this could wait until Daryl and Merle get back from their trip."

I have the grace to look embarrassed. The truth is Michonne has it right. I want her to take Skya when she could take someone more experienced. She needs to get some experience on runs and bond with some others of the group. She doesn't seem to be on terms with anyone but Merle and Daryl. "I told you my thoughts on this and beyond that I plead the fifth"

Michonne narrows her eyes suspiciously reading me astutely

"Hmm Hershel better continue with being a vet. You're crap at being an attorney. Take it from one who knows way too many and don't even ask because that is all I will say on this".

She regards me with an overdone rictus smile; more unnatural than her usual unreadable expression. She fiddles with the edge of her vest as she considers me, looking out of the corner of her eye from beneath her veiled lids.

"So. I'm going to get ready; grab the inexperienced danger magnet. I'm sure she will let you know all the fun details later"

She stalks off as suddenly as she arrived disturbing a layer of dust motes that tail her as intently as a herd of walkers. I consider my risky suggestion and head out slowly to help with the harvest in the fields. All too soon out harvest will be in and it will be time to start composting. Come spring this year we will have a healthy field to garden if any of us survive to plant crops that is. If worries were horses we would be the Kentucky derby. I grab my overshirt and swing it around my shoulders.

As I hike out to the field I watch Daryl pacing around Merle on their way to the trucks gesturing wildly as is his nature when dealing with his frustrating brother. Merle apparently is sitting in the field in a stubborn protest like a 4 year old, looks like he's is fixing something in his lap. My guess is that he is trying to stubborn his way into wearing his bayonet.

Sometimes strong personalities are forceful in distinctly wrong ways, especially among siblings. I notice it especially with friction inciting fire in our rather feral set of brothers. I grin to myself happy to see my recently very ill patient being able to overdo it. I hope Skya finds some biofreeze to massage his painful joints in the morning, I suspect he will be sore. I chuckle to myself once again as I slowly limp out under the sun imaging his bad temper with his refusal to verbalize his soreness. I watch the two brothers shoving the prosthetic onto his arm with the winces visible across the field.

Skya

Michonne finds me after I take my bow back down and clean my sweaty stinky self and after I had a little time to start my kiddos on the day's lessons. I've spread out books and notebooks for them. Liam is currently reading the tales of Narnia and will be doing a book report on the different themes in the stories. Mya is concentrating on her math story problems with me using the Georgia map for distances and travel time. Merle was studying this one earlier today. Oddly enough he has circled the areas north of here very near where I started out in my sister-in-law's house. I sigh as I think of Sarah and how of all John's family I loved her best.

I consider as I have the past weeks and months, what the new kid curriculum should be. Obviously survival, reading, most definitely math and science as that relates to survival skills. Anatomy and physiology because all of us needs to have basic first aid and be able to help without hesitating. We need to know hand to hand combat and weaponry, but we also need to know the skills of our past world. One day we will figure out how to end the walkers en masse. It will be science that figures out how. We then will have the daunting task of putting the world back onto its feet, but of necessity the feet will be scarred and in a different shape than before.

We need to find a way to produce food and protect the good people while being able to stand up to the psychopaths so this will not become our extinction event. How long it will be? Who knows? The kids are as deep into their thoughts as am I, focused on their learning tasks. When Merle gets back I'm going to insist that he begins my instruction in weaponry and tracking tomorrow as he agreed to while he was recuperating. We are sitting in the common area outside the cell I've set aside near mine as our "study". I watch as Beth rocks the baby and several of the parents and surviving children come to sit with us while they are instructing their own children reminiscent of Carol's study groups.

I mean to speak to Hershel as our most educated "elder" regarding setting up some type of cooperative learning for both adults and children. We need to trade skill sets to survive. I could teach basic anatomy and first aid, how to stitch a simple wound or fracture. Hershel can teach how to garden simple foodstuffs and how to care for and raise food animals. Michonne could teach hand to hand combat and how to blend (as can I). Merle and Daryl can show how to set up snares and how to skin game. Humm. Definitely best coming from Hershel.

I watch my kids; my son's dark blond hair and the bright sunny hair of my daughter. I need to make them duct tape reinforced jackets again and find her a hat so her hair won't stand out so much. Fortunately my hair is deep red and my son's hair is wild field mouse brown. We actually blend in well but not so for Mya. I watch as the people walk up and down the halls each on their busy little errand, most getting far too comfortable in the relative luxury of the prison and the false security of safety behind the thick walls. If you're stubborn enough or psycho enough you can find a sneaky or tactical way around these walls.

I smile as several of the Woodbury mothers sit down with their kids. "Skya do you need me to watch them for you while you help Hershel"

I think that this one was one of the teachers from Woodbury who can actually be patient enough to teach my kiddos. I think her name Willa Mcfeeley; a more inappropriate teacher's name never existed. I call her Mrs. Mac, to stop the immature giggles from the peanut gallery.

"Mrs. Mac that would be lovely. I've been working with Liam on his book report and with Mya and her number problems; I think Hershel did mention something and that he would send someone to find me. Would that be you?"

She gently smiles her straight bob falling into her eyes, she licks her lips shyly.

"Is it okay if I go over some sentence structure with Mya, I noticed that she at times has some difficulty with writing and putting her thoughts on paper? Hershel asked me to come in from the field and change places with you."

I regard her with a slight frown not sure what Hershel wants from me, unused to him being so enigmatic. I run my hands through my hair retying my bun.

"Kiddos. It sounds like Hershel has a project for Mommy; I might be away for a few hours. I want you to listen to Mrs. Mac she will be your teacher. Am I clear? You will listen to her and not wander off. Let her know if you need a bathroom visit and wait until the group goes. There will absolutely no wandering the prison without adults just like when you are with mommy. You will do what she asks the first time and no back talking. Any questions?"

I hate being so bossy but in this dangerous world absolute discipline with my kiddos have kept them safe and alive more than once. They nod their blond heads in unison and I gather them in murmuring how much I love them. How my sun and moon rises and sets with them. I learned long ago to never let a loved one out of your sight without telling them how special they are.

Road Trip

I found out that Michonne and I have been selected by Hershel to go on a run for medications in a local nursing home. I find my pistol, knife, and my beloved hatchet before I join Michonne in a beat up suv. I'm wearing my cargo pants and I have a little collection of items that can make fascinators for distracting the walkers. I also have small survival items, flashlight, pop rocks, matches etcetera.

She purses her lips in a halfhearted smile. "Well trouble you ready for this?"

I wink at her as I turn to hear her better being that she is sitting on my deaf left side; thank the gods that I lip read as well as I do.

"So who is Thelma and who is Louise? And why do you assume I'm trouble. I think we are both kinda chaotic."

She stops and stares at me for a moment "Did you not observe that neither of them happens to have dreds and beautiful skin like mine. Do not assume that we are in a fem buddy movie. I am not your buddy and we are not on a road trip for an adventure in feminism. The only reason why I agreed to this ill planned adventure is I respect Hershel and think it's time for you to do something other than being Merle's nurse."

I look down and pick at a piece of my duct tape jacket considering what to say to the ninja's intense expression and growled comments. "I just want you to not assume that you think you know me. You've barely spoken to me. I see you watching everyone and thinking that you understand why we act the way we do. Don't presume that you know me Michonne because you don't - any more than I would assume that I understand you"

Michonne shrugs and smirks gently shaking her head, dreds dusting the tops of her shoulders "I just want to know that you got my back. That this ain't no game. I don't have time for stupid, inexperienced bullshit. I don't gotta like that Hershel put us together on a run. You better not get me killed. So don't give me your high and mighty crap"

I look back up and behind me as the prison shrinks and disappears in the gently sloping hills. I've stopped picking at my jacket to glare at her out of the corner of my eye.

"Okay Michonne I get it. You need me to take this seriously. I do. Any time away from my kids; I take incredibly seriously. I always have"

I settle down to watch out the windows; a movie of scenery rushing by, a series of free ranging walkers shambling pathetically after us. "Do you think anything is in there? Like their trapped and locked in their bodies but have no ability to control anything but somehow they are still in there?"

She frowns at me and shrugs shaking her head balefully, glancing at me below lower lids as she drove on. "And so speaks the inexperienced soft bleeding heart; I don't think anything about them except that they are rotting corpses trying to bite my ass. If you want to survive this you should do the same"

I return to watching out my window tapping, drumming my fingers on both knees simultaneously. I watch how early the seasons seem to me being that I'm used to the Ohio seasons. It looks like October but the angle of the light says to me December. At home the snow would have started, the frost would be crunching under my feet in the morning and the walkers would have trouble moving as their muscles froze solid and would accelerate the rotting process. I wonder how the survivors were keeping warm. I remembered the winter before getting stranded here -11 degrees.

The snow rolling across the yard on its own; making nature's snowballs with just the wind. I remembered how the kiddos and I would roll down the hill in our yard giggling. Nights that I would curl up with them one by one before bed. How Mya and I would rub noses before I kissed her goodnight. How Liam and I would talk about his interest in science and how he wanted to be an engineer; how now all that was gone and the early winter sky shone down on the little out of the way nursing home that would be my first raid with this new group. Now I hoped to increase my worth in the group's eyes with my ability to raid the medication cart and the oxygen room.

Michonne stops the car just up the road where we can observe the land around the tiny nursing home tucked away at the end of the narrow country road, hidden by the statuesque ancient trees that probably watched over this land when a plantation stood here.

"Okay" she turned to look at me "we have a way of doing things and you need to follow my lead. I know you've done everything on your own. But we can't afford any mistakes. We scope out the whole place checking out the door closest to the med room and the least activity. Plus we need to find if there is anything alive in there. We're gonna wait here for an hour or to see if there is anything; then we go close and walk around. No shooting. No noise. No talking, hand signals only unless there is no alternative. We play it smart. You fill up this bag with the meds and supplies that Hershel needs. We back the car up and we fill the rest".

Michonne grabs my wrist squeezes a little. "Skya you with me on this?"

I nod smiling grimly. She nods back at me as I check my hatchet, and my firearm.

We sit there in silence. I roll down the window and listen to the sounds around the seemingly quiet little place. I hear birds chattering and woodpeckers hammering, nothing to suggest the wildlife hiding from a threat. I smell the pine trees and hear the wind murmuring in the huge trees. Michonne after a while edges the car steadily forward parking in the back of the building. She puts her finger to her mouth to remind me to remain silent. I need no reminders. A year's worth of instincts for stealthiness have kicked in and again I go into sneaky mode. I know that survival depends on my ability to disappear and outthink my human opponents and remain invisible to the not so dearly departed stinking walking corpses.