7/27/15 20:19 CAT
Medical Station Omicron, Rwanda
Rick watched Michonne carefully.
She didn't say anything as their group filed out with Negan but her eyes spoke volumes. Michonne stared at them as they exited, yet Rick could tell her mind was miles away. But unlike Lori, who could not be made to even look at him when she was angry, Michonne usually stared him down boldly. He was waiting for that but knew she wouldn't in front of an audience. When they were alone, that was when the talking would begin. And as he expected, once the room emptied, her eyes drifted toward him, ready to engage. Surprise and frustration warred with anger on her face, but he knew it wasn't a confrontation she was after. It was understanding, as if she could somehow glean his thought process just by reading it on his face.
But there was something else there too— a dispassionate element to her open appraisal of him that stung. As if she just refused to be hurt by anything he could tell her now. In fact, he was certain, if she had the strength, she would have just gotten out of the chair and come closer to poke or prod him like a specimen looking for answers. For the first time ever, Rick was actually grateful that Michonne wasn't at one hundred percent, she was formidable at her full capacity. But as it was, he could tell, she barely had the energy to wheel herself without assistance, let alone wrestle a satisfactory explanation out of him. Still, he hoped he could provide her with one nonetheless.
"So you're leaving," She said before he had even opened his mouth.
"He's protecting nearly a thousand people, 'Chonne," Rick explained, choosing to start with the only thing that might matter to her.
She scoffed.
"What, in here? Please," Michonne said incredulously. "This facility looks like it could house two hundred tops."
"No, in his main compound. They call it 'The Sanctuary'. It's a hidden village on Mount Karisimbi."
"The volcano? With the mudslides? Are you kidding me with this?"
Rick shook his head. He had already thought all of this and so knew exactly what she was talking about. Karisimbi was an inactive volcanic mountain, the highest in the region, surrounded by highly active ones. It would be incredibly dangerous —but smart— to make your refuge there if you didn't want government authorities snooping around. Hidden amongst a national park and protected as endangered Silverback Gorilla habitat, it was a place no one would think to look. The trade-off, however, was what would happen if it or one of the other neighboring volcanoes should suddenly decide to erupt.
"Think about it. The near toxic CO2 levels nearby, the eruptions, the animals, the snow, why would anyone look up there?"
"People suspected," Michonne said more to herself than him. "My hairdresser swore…."
"But no one ever looked," Rick answered.
She seemed to finally see the logic in it. "And now he claims there are a thousand people there?"
The skepticism returned to her voice. He'd been there also, so he just took a beat to explain in the surprisingly, almost patient way that Negan had explained it to him hours ago.
"When the information about people turning in Goma and Nord Kivu started trickling into the villages, people started heading for the hills." Rick didn't mean to pun but he smiled a little at it anyway.
Michonne shook her head in disapproval. He understood how she might not be in the place to make light and continued. "The locals have always had a pretty good idea of where the Sanctuary and his other compounds were. So they just went there. And the Sanctuary kept taking the people in —these are their neighbors, remember? The people who'd been helping to keep their location secret all along."
Michonne nodded looking intrigued now. It was almost humorous to watch her move through the same phases of disbelief then belief that he did. This story was nearly identical to the story that had made Negan a folk hero during the civil war to begin with.
"It's snowing up there for them right now and for some reason, even as the sickness started to spread out into the smaller and smaller villages, the things didn't follow them up into the mountains. Meaning if they made it to the Sanctuary, they were safe. Neither of us could figure that out but then Mamet told us—"
"They don't do well in precipitation of any kind, yes I know," She spoke over him sharply, with sudden irritation.
Rick stopped speaking for a moment, bewildered. "What?"
"'Us'? Since when are you and DaDa Ngangabouka an us?" She hissed, not wanting the words to escape the confines of the kitchen.
He nodded, feeling chastened for not using his words more carefully. She was completely right, even in the midst of their so-called truce, he and Negan were not actually allies but actors allied by a common enemy. He couldn't afford to forget that even if just in speech.
"Right," He came closer and added soberly. "The creatures haven't breached the snowline. It's like they can't. So anyone that can make it past, has. To the tune of nearly a thousand, at the last count."
Rick hadn't believed it either until Negan had one of his men Skype into the compound. It was heartrending. There were people as far as his eyes and the small laptop camera could see. As Negan's man walked the camera around the compound, the full scale of the problem became evident. It was like all of the worst camps Rick had ever seen, with pallets and cots, sleeping bags and just blankets, children crying in soiled, sometimes bloodied clothing and animals roaming freely around the area scavenging for scraps.
Plus, it was cold. Everywhere the heavily pixelated image revealed, he could see the snowpack and people using whatever they could find, grain sacks, newspaper, etc. to stave off the bitter chill. Still, despite that, the tipping point for Rick was seeing even Negan's pained expression when the leader left in charge in his absence admitted that they would very soon be reduced to hunting for bushmeat to feed the ever-growing horde of hungry mouths. Food had become scarce in record time due to their numbers.
Rick shared this with Michonne and watched as she grew horrified. Bushmeat, the flesh of wild game but particularly large mammals like primates and gorillas, was a very dangerous gamble. All by itself, it could give rise to contagion within the Sanctuary, up to and including diseases such as Ebola. When he finally admitted it, the fact of the matter was, Negan had come to the USAMRIID facility looking for help, himself. Which, luckily, put Rick in a very unique position to bargain. And for the first and likely only time ever, they discovered they were both joined in a search for exactly the same thing...a cure.
Michonne sat and pondered everything he'd told her, silently.
"I figure this will fall apart the moment that we get something, if we get something. But for right now, we're at a cease-fire."
"Rick, he cannot be trusted," She reiterated firmly, looking up at him from the contemplative gaze she'd had before.
"I know. I don't believe we can either" He affirmed, hoping she'd see he wouldn't be taken in by any platitudes. Not that so far Negan had seemed much for bromides.
"And still, knowing that, you choose to leave me here anyway?" She sounded betrayed, which pained him.
"Some people have to stay. That was a non-negotiable."
It was true. Negan had been completely unwilling to discuss the idea of Rick's entire group leaving to Aberdeen. Rick couldn't blame him. He wanted assurances that Rick would come back. But, if he was completely honest, Rick's resistance to the idea was largely kabuki anyway. Michonne and Sasha were hurt and this was a medical facility. He'd be a fool to pull Michonne out of one of the safest places currently known, to risk her life on this new mission while she was still recovering. And he was willing to let Rosita, an army officer with medic and weapons training, and Glenn, a fellow marine, stay with them, in case things went pear-shaped. In the end, that was sufficient 'insurance' of his return for Negan.
"I've had nightmares about when I was his 'guest' before, I just can't believe you would leave me here with him," Michonne whispered.
Rick was stunned. After it happened, at her insistence, they had a very limited discussion about the time she'd spent in Negan's compound. She would only talk about what type of man he was, never specifically what had actually happened. And then she was gone, back to Georgia, out of the UN and out of his life. Since then Rick had hated the man for what he and Shane had done to her, though he never knew precisely what that was. And he hated him still, that much hadn't changed in eight hours. But he'd had to make the decision to work with Negan for everyone's sake and he'd made the best of it. Now though, Michonne's reaction made him wonder yet again, if he was all wrong.
A single tear slipped down her cheek, that she brushed away quickly. It nearly killed Rick. He had no idea what to say. What other choice did he honestly have? She could not be allowed to travel in her condition. It was clear just by looking at her that she would not be up for the journey. He'd been certain he was doing the right thing, given the circumstances, but now Michonne's response threw that into doubt.
Rick realized suddenly, he'd only truly loved two women in his life and in less than 72 hours he'd managed to fail them both. "Michonne, I—"
"No, you don't get to be the martyr now," She interrupted his thoughts. "You don't get to blame yourself for everything that has gone wrong in the last two days. I share the blame along with you, him and the rest of the world for even falling apart in the first place. You couldn't control that, Rick. You don't get to control that."
He came even closer and took a knee before her. He rested his head on his arm on the armrest she wasn't using. She kept her eyes on him the entire time.
"Michonne—" He started again not knowing what it was he was going to say but only that he had to get on the same page with her. He couldn't leave if they weren't.
"When was the last time you closed your eyes?" She cut him off to ask quietly, her expression softening. Rick's eyes closed briefly when she ran a hand through his hair then put it to his face. The same hand ran gently down his cheek before cupping his stubbled jaw and Rick exhaled deeply.
Even Rosita in the midst of her minor medical checkup hadn't thought to ask him that. He had to stop and actually consider the question for a moment as Michonne stroked his ear with her thumb soothingly. He hadn't had more than a couple of hours of sleep since he checked into his hotel in North Carolina the afternoon before everything began. So what was that, almost 96 hours ago? Even he knew that was bad.
"I've closed my eyes." He answered evasively.
He touched the hand that touched his face, careful of the PVC taped to her arm with the IV line still in it. He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm. Just as she had seemed unsurprised by his kiss days ago, she didn't react, just moving on, but still caressing his cheek.
"Oh yeah? Really, when? Tell me when." She seemed so tired herself and yet she was still concerned for him.
"What do you mean? I blink all the time. See? I did it just now," He said it drily even though it was meant as a joke. Suddenly, even he was too tired for humor.
She didn't smile at his effort anyway, instead shaking her head. "We're not there yet. I'm not happy with you. And, I'm not sure we'll get there before you have to go," She said honestly.
Michonne was always so honest with him. And right now she was truly upset, although, perhaps it wasn't as dire as it seemed. She disagreed but they were still obviously on the same side. That had to be a start. He realized, maybe he needed to be perfectly honest with her right now too?
"We might need to get there. I mean, before I leave. What being here has made me see is, it was just good fortune that we found each other in the first place and dumb luck that we got this far. That kind of streak ends eventually. We'd be stupid to think it won't."
Michonne pulled her hand away from his face and for a moment Rick felt bereft. "So, really you're leaving me here where you think I'll be safe in case you don't come back. Is that it?"
She frowned and leaned back and away from him in her chair.
He didn't have the means to lie to her. He just looked down at his foot and the wheels of the chair, hating that she was trapped in it. Hating that she was so fragile right now, that she couldn't be at his side. Hating that she couldn't come with him, whether she believed it or not.
"No, no pity. No convincing yourself that this is for my own good. Look at me," Michonne said firmly.
Rick did it immediately, steeling himself against any look of betrayal or recrimination he might see reflected there. But there was none.
"We're in this together, you and me. You aren't doing this alone. You don't get to act unilaterally."
"I wish you had been there," He admitted trying to control his irritation, not with her but at the circumstances. "You're the lawyer. Negotiation is your deal not mine. This wasn't me being unilateral. You were unconscious and I had to deal. Not only for you, for everyone. This was me doing what I thought was—"
He stopped himself before he told a lie. Nothing in him thought this arrangement was "best" and as usual Michonne seemed to read that on his face. She grew pensive for a moment hesitating before speaking.
"Look, I'm not saying you're wrong or even that I could have negotiated anything better. In fact, I doubt it." She spoke softly, barely above a whisper. "...But what I am saying is, this was a decision we should have made together. You and me. You had no right to agree to this alone. Since day one, we've always been in this together," She said again and they stared into each other's eyes for a moment, digesting the words, as real as any vow of devotion.
"I'm sorry. It's not that I'm trying to control you."
"I know, but Rick, tell me, when did you plan to let me know about Tobin, about T-Dog? Why is it that you think you get to make those decisions for me? What I get to know and what I don't?"
Rick thought for a second of who he was going to have to kill for telling her.
"No one told me. But they're the only two people I haven't seen since I woke up. And I remember Carol was piloting the plane here. What am I an idiot that I can't put two and two together?"
Michonne sucked her teeth, something she did rarely. He was in trouble.
"Listen, you don't get to keep things from me for my 'protection'. You are neither my Daddy," The tiny bit of a Georgian accent that she'd largely lost by being shipped off to boarding school when her mother died in her childhood, slipped out then. "Nor are you my husband. It's no longer your job to protect me."
"Yeah, yes it is," He countered emphatically, nodding his head low. He felt that in his bones, but for some reason, he suddenly worried that the intensity of that conviction might somehow scare her, so he looked at the floor.
Michonne moved forward again, leaning over him as he knelt before her. "Rick Grimes, that hasn't been your job in quite a few years now. And I took on this mission with the understanding that it would be as your partner not merely your protectee."
He looked back up into her expressive brown eyes that always seemed to speak paragraphs even when she wasn't talking. Even ill and sapped of her usual energy, she was still so strong and so beautiful. He was speechless under the ferocity of her gaze. Still, he could see she didn't get it. And he didn't know how to say it. To say that protecting her would always be his job. That if she would only let him, he would happily make it a permanent part of his life...along with loving her. Forever.
He swallowed his frustration looking for another way to come to a meeting of the minds that wouldn't veer off into another argument…. Or whatever it was that they called an argument since they had never actually raised their voices at each other in over a decade of friendship. Shane used to joke that they were like an old vaudeville pair, the way they artfully circled each other until they got to the punchline.
"You love me," He said plainly then at a loss for anything else to say. It was a sudden declaration but not a difficult one since he knew he felt the same. Still, she looked flabbergasted for a moment.
"Where did that come from? W-where'd you get that from?" She asked, uncharacteristically flustered by the seeming non sequitur.
"You told me."
"I've never— I did not," She protested, though her face nearly gave her away. A twitch at her mouth threatened to reveal more.
Wasn't he supposed to be the one with the obvious "tells"?
"You did." He nodded in contradiction to her. "Today in fact. When we were all waiting outside to get in. You actually told everyone."
"I, what? Well, I— I was high. Nothing said under sedation counts."
He could see her face was burning with mortification, though the warm, deep brown of her skin never changed color.
"You also shared that you thought my eyes were cute. 'Pool blue', I think you called them," He was now deliberately teasing her because he saw how off-center it put her. "Said they sucked you in from the very first day we met. You also said something about Dixon looking like the Sphinx?"
"I did?" She covered her face with her hands and peered out at him from between two fingers.
He nodded again, "In front of everyone. Honestly, I gotta admit, I was a little embarrassed by that too."
"God, I'm sorry, Rick."
"Why should you be, if it's true? I mean, I agree," He admitted deciding to put an end to her misery...and the great unspoken thing of their lives. "So I'm kinda relieved it's true for you too."
She dropped her hands and looked at him in shock. He could also admit it was a little weird having it finally 'out there'.
"About loving you, I mean, not about Daryl being like the Sphinx," He clarified, smiling. "I love you. I know you know it's true. So, don't bother looking surprised. You've known for a while."
She suddenly looked endearingly bashful, wide-eyed and stunned at what he'd admitted. Rick didn't see the point of pretending anymore. The past three days had shown him the necessity of seizing moments as they came and not waiting for the 'proper' time.
Despite everything that had gone wrong between them, he now fervently wished he could have had that contentious phone conversation two days ago with Lori back. He wished he could have used that precious time to just thank her for his children. For birthing them, raising them, caring for them and ultimately, sacrificing her life for them. In retrospect, he also longed to have back the hours he'd spent in briefings aboard the Ticonderoga that ultimately proved to be filled with useless information. That was time he could have just spent with Carl and Judith before he left. Time was no longer plentiful for the wasting. He'd discovered he couldn't and wouldn't wait for a "better" time to say this.
"Michonne, I love you," He said it again matter-of-factly, like the inescapable truth it was to him.
"Don't, don't do this." The mildly amused look she'd worn a moment before fell away, a somber one replacing it.
"Do what?"
"This. What about Lori?"
"What about Lori? I'm heartbroken for my kids but she's dead." He recognized how cold he sounded the minute he said it and the look on Michonne's face made him wish he'd phrased it better.
"And she died three days ago. Not three years ago."
"Believe me, I know that and I feel that but that has nothing to do with this." He gestured between the two of them.
Michonne sighed heavily and Rick wasn't certain whether it was the weight of the conversation or her general fatigue that was exhausting her now. The fact that she was out of bed and moving around was a testament to her relentless spirit. But everyone had their limits, perhaps after all these years he'd finally found Michonne at hers. ...Or maybe he was misunderstanding this entirely, which never occurred to him before that second.
Was it possible that she didn't lo—
"We can't, I— I promised Lori." For the first time, Rick thought possibly ever, Michonne seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Which was fine because he was too.
"What does Lori have to do with it? And what do you mean 'you promised her'?" He asked relieved that she hadn't just said flat-out that she didn't share his feelings.
Michonne set her mouth, clearly not wanting to speak on it further.
"'Chonne, c'mon, talk to me." Despite this being the most completely inappropriate time and place, Rick found he now needed to know. "Please."
She sighed again before speaking. "About two years ago, I got a letter from her."
Rick was shocked. He rose, initially bracing his arm on her knee before he stood and paced a step away from her. Two years ago, he had no idea where Michonne was, though he had thought of her often. It was hard to hear that Lori had known all that time. He suddenly supposed that Lori was right, this very thing was part of the problem between them, in the end. A total lack of communication.
"How?"
Michonne shrugged. "Maybe we know some of the same people?"
Rick doubted that but acknowledged that Michonne could have been completely contactable through their extended UN family the whole time. The truth was it probably wouldn't have been too hard to reach her, which was why he had made a deliberate choice not to try, despite wanting it desperately.
"In the letter, she wrote that she was pregnant with Judith. That you'd come back from international assignment, you were both trying to make your marriage work again. She indicated that you guys were starting over and she was confident that now you were back to stay, everything would be alright."
That sounded about right for two years ago. They had decided he would come home for good, that they would seek counseling and try to rediscover what they had loved about each other in the beginning. "Yes, but what did any of that have to do with you?"
"Well, I wondered that too. Apparently, she'd seen me at Lenox Square Mall and once she knew I was back in Atlanta she needed to know that I wouldn't try and 'rekindle' anything—I don't know what she thought was going on between us before, Rick," Michonne skewered him with a look out of the corner of her eye, to which he looked back innocently shaking his head. "But she wanted my assurances that it was over now. Completely."
"Did you tell her nothing happened?"
She looked at him flatly. "It was a letter, Captain? I didn't tell her anything. But more importantly, did nothing happen? I mean between us, would that have been the honest truth? Or was it always just true that we had never acted on them. The feelings...you know? They were there, you just said so yourself. So, was she entirely wrong?"
Rick shook his head though he sincerely wished he didn't have to. It felt like confirming Lori's accusations. He knew he'd been a faithful husband to Lori but in those last few years, in his heart….
"Then what could I really write, other than 'okay'? Which I did. I sent her a small wicker basket with a few things for Judith and a card wishing you both all the best going forward."
"That was you? She told me that basket came from a distant cousin."
He did actually remember that basket. A lovely, ornate thing made of Carolina seagrass containing the most beautiful, intricate layette set. It was far nicer than anything that particular cousin had ever given Lori before, including on the occasion of their wedding. And when Rick had tried to insist that they call the woman together to thank her, Lori had said she'd handle it on her own.
No wonder.
Michonne shrugged diplomatically, as if to say 'what did it matter now?' but Rick still bristled at his ex-wife's deceitfulness nonetheless.
"Rick, she did what she could to protect her family. If I were her I would be completely unapologetic about that. I'd be ferocious even. And I didn't blame her, not then, not now."
Rick thought he caught a brief frown that suggested that that wasn't entirely true or that there was something more to it. But it disappeared from Michonne's face just as quickly.
"The point is, I don't want to jump in her grave." Michonne frowned again at her own choice of words. "I mean I—"
"I know what you meant but Lori and I have been divorced for almost a year."
Michonne couldn't hide her surprise. "Rick, I'm so sorry."
With anyone else, it would have been disingenuous words. But despite the implications for them, he could tell she really meant that. It was one of the things he loved about Michonne. How she only ever wanted the best for him, his family, her friends, regardless of the personal cost. How concern for him and undoubtedly Carl and Judith made the prospect of his divorce, not good news to her.
It was his turn to shrug. "We tried, it didn't work."
"Michonne," He kneeled again before her, like a supplicant. "You aren't jumping into anyone's grave, or taking anyone's place or stepping into anyone's shoes or occupying anyone's position, except your own. The one that's already been yours for quite some time now. Do you want it?"
Because that was the question, wasn't it? ...Did she want a life, whatever kind this new world would allow, with him?
Her eyes widened and began to grow glassy. Her bottom lip quivered with emotion. Rick hoped suddenly that these were happy tears.
"Do you love me?" He asked earnestly, his heart thundering in his chest despite the fact that he thought, hoped, he already knew the answer.
"Yes." She nodded. Her voice, just above a whisper, broke on the single simple syllable.
"Good," Rick said exhaling audibly. He had been holding his breath. "'Cuz this could have gotten real weird. I love you too."
He'd said it for a third time now. And it felt a little bit better every time he said it out loud to her.
She laughed a little at his joke and it broke the enormous tension that had lingered between them since he'd walked into the kitchen earlier. They had gotten there.
"Do you trust me?"
Michonne nodded unable to speak, brushing away with both hands the tears that were now flowing freely over her lashes and sliding down the sides of her nose. She smiled at him through her tears.
"Do you believe I'll do everything in my power to come back to you?"
She nodded again.
Rick leaned forward slowly at the same moment she did and pressed his lips gently to hers. He could taste the salt of her tears on his tongue as she yielded to him, opening her mouth and welcoming him. He cradled her head in his hands as the kiss deepened, savoring her bottom lip. Michonne's nose brushed his as she turned her head and he inhaled her. He could smell the faint remnants of the rosewater that she still sprayed in her locs even after all these years. She brought her hand up to rake her long, slender fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, making his scalp tingle and bringing him even closer. After a moment, they were breathless, devouring each other ravenously. Their mutual desire growing demanding as if unleashing a thing caged too long. The sounds of Michonne's little whimpers and the unexpected corresponding moans from him as their lips met echoed in the acoustics of the empty space.
She was his...finally.
"Oh good. You've made up." A voice said drily from behind him.
They fell away from each other abruptly like two teenagers caught doing something illicit and looked in the direction of the voice. Negan peeked his head in the doors, his face that of a mischievous imp. Rick stood quickly and turned to the man, trying to block his view of Michonne. He was instantly irritated to have been caught by Negan in such a vulnerable moment.
"Are you almost done? 'Cuz my folks need the room." Negan opened the two swinging doors more fully and stood between them. "This is where the magic happens —I mean, other than the kind you two are planning. And it's past dinner time, know what I mean? Including your crew we got a lot of mouths to feed in here, they gotta get cracking."
Rick turned and saw as Michonne looked up shamefaced at him as she wiped a thumb across her glistening bottom lip. Rick fought the sudden feeling of arousal the sight gave him. This was not the time. She looked from Negan to Rick, seeming to read his face. It was nothing to be ashamed of or to hide, particularly since everyone had an inkling anyway, but Negan was definitely not the first person he would have chosen to "come out" to. Michonne's expression said almost exactly the same thing.
"Can you give us a minute?" Rick requested politely turning back to face their intruder, despite wanting to instead yell at him to get the fuck out.
"No," Negan said sternly as if he knew exactly what it was Rick wanted to say and had a few choice words of his own. Then just as quickly he broke into his patented reptilian grin as Rick frowned.
"Oops, I forgot myself there for a moment, 'Friends'. Sure. You got one minute."
He backed out the door looking at his wristwatch.
Michonne followed Negan out with her eyes and then spoke quietly. "I don't trust that guy as far as I can throw him and right now…."
She looked up at Rick from her chair, as he turned back from the doors to face her. "But I believe that you can do this and come back to me. I believe that we've gotten too far for this to be the end...for you or me."
Rick sighed heavily with relief. This was precisely what he'd been thinking about since yesterday. He wasn't sure about his belief in God anymore but he now believed there was still a Plan. And that he and Michonne, together, was some small part of it.
"This isn't the end. Not for us."
"Not for us," She reaffirmed like an oath.
Rick bent forward, anchoring his hands on her armrests and planted a kiss on her forehead and then another firmly on her lips.
"That was nice. You can keep doing that," Michonne said as he straightened and walked around her to take the handles of her chair.
Rick pushed her toward the doors.
"Oh, I will."