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Chapter 2: Wrapped In Black
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"You let her go?!" Rick swallowed the anguish wedged in his throat.
Stood in their lounge, Carl almost failed to look his dad in the eye as he shook his head, disturbed. He couldn't believe Michonne had gone there willingly! Providing an explanation, Carl had wanted to keep things surreptitious, until Negan ratted her out and in turn rattled his dad considerably. "I didn't know what she planned to do! If I'd even thought of it, I would've stopped her."
The situation flooded Rick's brain too quickly. Without another passing word, he barged outside into blinding daylight on stiff legs, where his bubbling urgency and panic stirred everyone's attention. He and a few selected others were supposed to set out for days on a scavenge run, for anything they could scrounge up for the Saviours. The next pickup was distressingly close. But he couldn't function right now. It would have to wait.
He swore the walls surrounding them, protecting them, felt closer all of a sudden, a lick of sweat building on his forehead. All the uncertainty pounded against his temple as Rick walked, oblivious to Daryl hustling over to his side with crossbow trained in hand.
"The hell's goin' on?" He asked perplexed, shifting his gaze to Carl approaching them.
"They got Michonne."
"Motherf - You telling me one of 'em got inside?!" Daryl gruffed, concern and anger reflected in his voice.
"No.. no. She - She went outside the walls last night, tracked 'em down. And now they got her." Rick's voice cracked as he shifted his weight between his legs and stationed hands on his hips.
Daryl regarded him carefully. "She okay?"
"I don't know. Negan said she's safe but I don't know if I believe that. She's not safe as long as she's there."
Cradling his head, breaths came out between heavy and desperate bursts, his world started spinning uncontrollably and voices were muffled and incoherent as he scanned around. Rick thought they'd discussed this, namely he'd talked her out of this idea and came to a mutual understanding. Only Michonne's beautifully stubborn nature for those she cared about, still fuelled her steely determination. God, it was happening all over again. How he had feared the worst when the Saviours intercepted the RV and left one of her lone dreadlocks behind as a personal message. He wouldn't lose her, he promised her that. And now..
"I'm going after her …" Rick mumbled as he marched hastily towards the barred gate. He had no clue and no lead where the Saviours were located but in the spur of the moment, it didn't matter. He would figure something out.
Daryl turned and gave chase with slapping footfalls against the tarmac. "Rick - "
"Dad." Carl called from behind and trailed after them both.
"You can't stop me -"
"Hey!" The redneck threw his arm out to stop him as it batted his lean chest and seized the man's shoulder. "No Rick! - "
Rick shoved him off in protest but he latched back on as they struggled. "You can't stop me!" He bellowed, his voice ringing around them. An unsettled audience had emerged from their homes or paused their activity to pay attention to them peripherally.
"You can't go charging in there Rick! It's why Glenn ain't here no more!..." Daryl growled, under the gun of sickening guilt as he dug his heels into the ground, against the determined wall that continued floundering in his grasp. "Letting 'em lay a hold on you, ain't gonna help nobody."
They both stood on the spot panting harshly in the middle of the street, Rick through bared teeth. He grew silent and stilled at the mention of the man that saved his life during the beginning.
"Look, man! We wanna get her back from that asshole, too! We will. They won't kill 'er."
Rick exhaled shakily, fixed on the leading road beyond the gates, at war with his buried, crumbling hope. "How do you know that? You've seen what he does. What he makes happen." He stressed in a significantly calmer tone. What if they kept her alive but did the unthinkable to her?
Daryl's exhausted eyes softened in sympathy. "I think he needs her." He stated resolutely. "Or feels he does."
The sheriff slowly trailed his distant eyes away to linger on the ground, swirling the thought in his head. It sounded plausible. Daryl didn't specify how, if only to spare his own sanity.
"We ain't letting her go, but folks 'round here need you. Go on the run. Keep busy. Right now, Michonne's over there with a roof over her head. That's somethin'. Alright?" Daryl pressed, giving a firm pat to his shoulder.
He relinquished his hold as Rick jerked a nod in understanding, ridden of the whimpering madman. His mind felt a little clearer, less disoriented and muddled to all hell.
"Negan's guys are comin' in a few days. Gotta deal with one shit at a time..."
Rick pried his troubled gaze away from the nervous faces of the crowd close by. He was right. And by that time when they arrived, Rick needed to see her. Honing in on Daryl who turned to head down the street, presumably preparing to set out on a hunt, he raised his voice again. "Daryl…"
He stalled and looked over his shoulder at the broken, former sheriff, a reflection of the man he'd encountered long ago.
"What happened to Glenn, it wasn't your fault."
Daryl disagreed, as his jaw locked. Naw, it was his fault and he had to live with it now... though he still couldn't look at Maggie. While he appreciated Rick and the others trying, he wasn't running from it. Nor was he about to burrow so far deep in a bottomless shithole of guilt when there were people to save right now. "Go on. We ain't ashes yet." He murmured with a parting nod as he trudged on heavy feet.
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Two long days passed in a sinkhole of her own suffering.
Michonne sat leaning her weight against the wall, knees pressed to her chest as she focused on the dark, concerning stains just visibly emblazoned on the dusty floor. Her delivered scrapings were her only point of contact, but she barely had an appetite. Instead she tried reasoning with her commonsense and growing pessimism. Alexandria was tormented and at risk to begin with, now there was a price hung over all their heads. She smacked the back of her skull against the wall in frustration, facing her repercussions. If only she'd taken the damn shot. Now she'd become enmeshed in all of it.
A sting of envy and yearning to see everyone back home struck her chest. Feeling her confidence ever so slightly waning, perhaps it had been her worst decision leaving Alexandria that night. Her predicament fuelled an inkling of dread that Rick, Carl and even baby Judith could easily be ripped away while she clawed and screamed, and she could only imagine where Rick's mindset was right now.
Not only that, but Simon's claim before she arrived continued to roll around in her consciousness. Pestering words of somebody else taking over and retaliating, possibly even worse, if Negan was removed from the picture. It plagued doubts into her head. But there was absolutely no other way around it. It was hopeless and impossible to reason with him, no elbow room for negotiation when made abundantly clear of who Negan was. How he built a code of conduct. He took advantage. However, Michonne refused to play into his hands and grovel at his boots. It would be exactly what he wanted.
The silent isolation was starting to feel like a vice on her heart. The darkness was so absolute, she couldn't distinguish whether her eyes were open or sealed shut sometimes. Michonne sighed deeply. She swore to keep her iron grip on hope as long as it took to return home.
Barely registering the sound of someone approaching her cell as the metal door dragged open, the assault on her ears sent a shudder down her spine. Her pink-rimmed eyeballs ached from sleep deprivation as she raised her head to meet seared skin and matted blonde hair. She knew she was in for a rude awakening. His lanky body filled the doorframe and towered over her, taking in her state. For the time she'd spent imprisoned below, this man would offer occasional words whenever he was tasked to attend to her. Short, unconventional talks that left her feeling confused and downright vexed. Today was apparently one of them.
"Negan's asking for you."
"I've heard better things." She retorted with a bitter huff and clenched her gloved hand that was still caked in blood.
"This is just where it starts." Dwight continued solemnly, but with his usual stony expression. "You're lucky, though in your head it's not so lucky. He's taking a shine to you. Things could've been a whole lot worse, and they still can be if you make 'em."
Lucky. What part of this was lucky? What part of this was fair!
"You're right. It can get a lot worse." She muttered coldly as she pushed past him into the corridor.
Another stinging reminder of where she was, Michonne lingered behind Dwight briskly as he led her through the Sanctuary walls. Clinging to her sense of time, she judged it was the peak of the day or early afternoon as the activity was considerably rampant. As opposed to when she'd first arrived, not a single person stood in one place. Everyone was constantly bustling, riddled with tasks and carrying the same exhaustion she saw frequently back home.
At last and to her disconsolate, Michonne was reacquainted with Negan's personal quarters where she was greeted with a particular scent she hadn't been aware of before. Something musk and masculine mingled with leather. At least it wasn't smothering. Eyes falling on the intractable man positioned at the window, she took an opportunity this time to really look. Clad in his signature leather jacket that was partly-zipped, exposing a chalk white shirt beneath and grey jeans that fitted snugly around his lean legs and reached the tip of his boots.
Negan's expression lit up as soon as he laid eyes on her, but cocked a brow when the light caught the fatigue on her elegant features. He manoeuvred himself to get a closer view. "Man, you okay there, sweetheart? You're lookin' a little peaky."
"Fine." She was certain she looked like hell had spat her out. He probably thrived seeing that. Michonne eyed the leather couch temptingly but stayed inert, hoping she wouldn't be staying long as she squared her shoulders. With only his arrogant voice to slice the silence, it left her irritable.
"Atta' boy, D." Negan praised. "I owe you a drink later. Now get outta here." He joked with a dismissive wave of his hand.
The door clicked shut behind her. Michonne's lips pressed into a thin line, taught as a whip, already prepared to condemn whatever proposition was tossed her way while Negan closed the distance, looking as though assembling the words.
"This your thing then, familiarizing with your prisoners?" She wrinkled her nose with disdain in wake of the question.
He snorted softly and steered closer. "As it happens, I'm willing to bet you can help me."
"Help you?" Disbelief clouded her voice and slowly raised her tired eyes to regard him agitatedly. With a curt nod, he continued.
"See, a group of my men found a depository someplace a few miles out and called it in. Somethin' got screwy clearing out the dead freaks. Big job. We're gonna take one of the trucks out there and the thing is, I want you coming with us."
"Why?" She inquired sternly with clear suspicion. The words rang. What possible gain would Negan receive from her presence? Perhaps they would kill her on the spot.
"It'd be an example to Rick. Doing us a service like that." Negan replied tersely, unwilling to elaborate.
Channeling her conjecture, she wasn't at all surprised to discover he had informed Rick of her whereabouts, she just silently prayed he hadn't taken the bait.
Somehow taken aback by his callous advances, Michonne subconsciously reverted to a younger, more stubborn version of herself as she folded her arms and cocked a hip. She felt her patience waning within each passing second. "I'd prefer the cell."
"Now, I was hoping you wouldn't say that, 'cos you ain't exactly all for choice." He tut.
"So you're giving me an ultimatum?"
"Hell, no. I'm giving you a job." Negan's voice lightened, taking in the woman's stance. "At the end of it all, in spite of everything, you still work for me, dreads. And people like you ain't built to wither behind bars."
"After two days, you're really setting this up." She replayed what she said and hummed incredulously. "You know, stupid is as stupid does."
"Not a wink different from routine shit you've done in the past - "
"Bullshit!" Michonne snapped with a tilt of her head. The words flowed from her mouth easier than expected. "What are you after?"
Negan's lean, empowered form took long, heavy strides towards her with the first embers of anger she'd received so visibly since being confined. They were a sign that no good would come of their presence as he came within an inch of her, hot breath spilled against equally hot, ebony skin.
"Lemme lay this on you. That life you called yours back there; picket fences, grill outs, tending to wheat, whatever the fuck you guys did with your time, hell, maybe y'all could have had that. But that was all before you - amped to high shit - shot up a bunch of my people, a lot that had families too. Little too late, Rick learned he couldn't run with the big dogs. Reap what you goddamn sow. Your people ain't calling the shots no more."
"Fuck you." Michonne growled through gritted teeth, a little caught off by her expletive, as her skin flushed.
"Fuck me?" It came out in mockery but his brow creased and eyes narrowed, leaning into her personal space in a seductive manner. "Could always arrange that - "
He seemed to ditch his former anger for a trade of riling her up with extensive pleasure, as a shit-eating grin crawled its way to his parted lips. They stood and waited for the other to make a fatal move. But Michonne's own emotions consumed her. Instinctive and quick, the samurai drew the back of her gloved hand and struck the taunting curve of his olive toned cheek with a resounding smack!
Negan staggered ever so slightly. A growl rolled through his throat as a mixture of astonishment and anger plastered his face. Dangerous eyes shadowed over, he chuckled provocatively and lightly rubbed the sore spot. Alright, he maybe deserved that one.
"Damn. Good thing I like 'em rough, darlin'! Shit.." He breathed while rotating his locked jaw.
Michonne schooled her features and batted away her violent impulses to regain control of the situation. However she took a moment to relish the swollen flesh and forming welts on his cheek. "You said before you were giving me options… but this is just a means to an end to get whatever you need out of Rick."
"You're goddamn right!" Negan chuckled and retrieved a crystal glass from a nearby cabinet. Oddly fixated, she watched as he poured himself a shot, the amber golden liquid swirling and sheening in the light. "Though I wasn't lying about giving you an out before. Since threatening to amputate his kid, reckon he'll take our agreement more seriously, especially without you. You wanna tear a guy down? Mess with his pussy. No offence, sweetheart." He took an indulgent swig.
"Meaning I'm insurance." Michonne huffed to herself, twisting her face in disgust.
"Then again, I always got another way that'll be good for both of us. Shit, it'll make Rick's balls shrivel up his ass, but for guarantee our shares will be lighter and maybe I don't gotta waste a few innocent people for the attempted fucking bullet in my head..."
At odds with herself, she would at least attempt to hear him out further as her eyes turned to slits. "What is it?"
"I'm glad you asked." Negan spoke smoothly, gulped the entirety of his drink and savoured the last traces on his lips.
From the way the man's pensive look melted into something sensual, roaming her from head to toe like a prized possession, Michonne already surmised she would curl at his answer.
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Nature was always cruel. But it was the way life was always created, never to see itself as a cruel force. It just is. Like the pack of wild dogs that had once ambushed them, the spider entrapping the squirming fly in its interlocking web, the undead viciously hunting and seeking other victims. Predator and prey. It was impossible to know which was which, these days. Everything was turned upside down.
"So." He started slowly, trickled with intrigue. "How long you and Grimes been bumpin' uglies?"
Scowling, Michonne peered away from the world outside the window, broken from the reverie as she warred every urge to slap the daylight out of him again. Negan had grabbed another bottle and poured himself a generous serving while she had slumped onto the furniture pouring over his unethical proposal. If one could even call it that. Treated to agonizing detail how beneficial it would be during her time here, Michonne's refusal came harsh and inbound with offence. She didn't give a damn about all that, she was more concerned about everyone else. How beneficial it would be to Alexandria, her people… if the Sanctuary's leader was honest to his word. But she was not as gullible as he believed. Son of a bitch. Wife? Married? The thought of maintaining intimate relations with Negan churned her stomach. And what about Rick?
"Not the time to ask?" Negan snorted with a tilt of his head, before he suddenly turned serious. "Ohh. Shit. He have trouble dipping his wick - "
"Stop. Talking." She steeled her resolve, despite feeling the blood boiling in her veins.
"Why? It's quiet as a goddamn empty hen house in here."
"Good. Maybe you'll tire of me and finally realize I hold no further value to you." Michonne gave a cool reception to the idea.
Negan grinned mischievously, allured by her wit as he approached the couch to linger beside her impassioned form. "You thinking it'll play out that easily? Could always put ya on the fence, but I'd really, really rather avoid that."
"Oh, so you care."
"Darlin', I care that you have a shit load of potential right here, then being strapped to a damned chain fence crawling with shit or starving out in a cell block."
Michonne side-eyed him, lingering on a detail she was missing. "What potential? The hell are you talking about?"
"Ohh, you'll see. Besides, I would very much enjoy having you work under me."
She sighed shakily from the continual goading, tempted to toss her hands in the air like a child in the midst of a tantrum and leave this godforsaken room and therefore the infuriating conversation.
"'Course I'll give you a little time to mull it over. Now, I know what you're thinking. But you'd be surprised how soon we'll be copulating like jackrabbits before you're even realizing it's happenin'." Negan purred with a sip of his scotch, peering over the ridge of the glass.
Michonne had reached her limit! Her growing intolerance had manifested itself as she slammed her hands down onto the gleamed, leather couch and rose to her feet. "Are we done? I'd like to get back to my cell and consider things." She scorned and rushed across the room to the door.
Clasping the doorknob as though wanting to crush it, she didn't wait for a response but felt eyes on her back and faint laughter following her out as she stormed into the hall taking two steps at a time, cursing profanities under her breath.
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Hours later, transported to another confined space, Michonne was inserted between two men sitting either side of her in the back seat of the SUV. Undoubtedly to prevent a venturesome escape of flinging the door open, diving out of a moving vehicle and fleeing into the woods. Inside, she laughed resentfully. That is until desperation found herself contemplating it. Michonne played out the events in her head, but saw her plan going awry. She was largely outnumbered, defenseless and out in the middle of nowhere, it wouldn't be long before she was captured. Lifting her sunken head for the first time since leaving the Sanctuary, she instantly caught Negan's penetrating eyes staring avidly at her through the rear-view mirror, as though perfectly perceptive to her thoughts. Michonne neither squirmed nor flinched away from his gaze and glared back in challenge. In return, a playful smirk flashed her way before relaying focus back to the gravel road as they drove. A thin rain drummed on the roof and right now, she wished she could melt away into it.
When the two vehicles pulled up to a stop, it was difficult to believe there was nothing short of a motherload waiting inside. The last time she scoped out a place like this was with Rick, trapped in a flooded basement. It was like she was revisiting a moment of the past and Negan was tainting it. Why the hell was she out here in the first place? Through the window and past the sheet of rain, Michonne peered up at the food bank. The once inviting, ivory building appeared to have more than one floor, an east wing and far left of the roof was charred badly. The front sign clung onto its last remaining hinges, clanging against the outside wall with every gust of wind and a wooden barricade of spikes encircled the perimeter.
Negan exited the SUV, tearing her absorption as he rammed the door shut. As she and the others followed and stood among the second group, her fight or flight instinct kicked like a persistent bitch, but she elected to ignore it. The outside neither held any comfort. The pleasant, calming sounds she'd soaked in just days ago had vanished, clouds hovered over them like an omen, leaving her feeling oddly abandoned.
"Alright! Let's get on it! Grab everything they got like you were dry on Christmas." Negan proclaimed as he scanned around him, whistling merrily when a walker, then two, turned his way. "Ohh, ya'll gotta watch this shit."
Indeed Michonne watched silently as he struck them down blow for blow and tumbled to the ground beside him. A number of Saviours took posts outside for security measures during their raid, but she was otherwise reluctant to enter the building. She sensed something -
"Move." A voice gruffed over her shoulder and skimmed the shell of her ear when she lingered too long that he propelled her forward.
She glowered as she caught her feet and pivoted on the spot with a whip of her dreadlocks, crowding the man. "Don't." She rumbled as low as thunder, not in the mood for any of this. With a loud puff of air and roll of her shoulders, Michonne headed inside, climbing over the barricade and sidestepping piles of broken glass as a musty, dry odour invaded her sinuses.
Inside was just as decrepit. Overgrowth climbed the walls along fragments of moulded plaster and cracked paint, the main shopping area and side rooms were packed with stock shelves of pantry goods and shafts of light peeked through the boarded up windows as though repelling light itself. Michonne grew puzzled as to how the building hadn't been stripped bare. Looking at their grim surroundings, the samurai stepped further inside, kicking up dirt and dust as she did and discovered a cluttered array of bundled blankets, pillows, smashed lanterns, discarded wrappers and even comic books scattered about the wide space. People had been dwelling here. Reminded of how she once traveled from place to place by her lonesome, until Andrea.. she gnawed at the possibility that the Saviours had gotten to them. Was that how they "found" it?
A tall man with curled locks stepped forward and crouched beside her to shove three comic books into his worn rucksack. She oversaw curiously.
"It's for a kid." He flashed a grimey look with a taut voice, rising back to his feet as he zipped up. "Lost his old man at the outpost."
She faltered as the Saviour stomped away, gripping the bag tightly. Her features softened and there was a tight constriction in her chest that she had to look away. Everybody had lost someone that night. Sighing tiredly, Michonne was averse to it, but she began assisting in swiping what they could. They searched the kitchen, the sorting area, and a small storage warehouse located further down the wing, past a narrow doorway.
Creak!
Her head suddenly snapped up above her. According to the informant, the dead were roaming the second level. Scouting the building earlier for clearance, they found both of the stairwells blocked off. Seemingly parts of the floor had collapsed, bodies long past decomposed trapped under rubble. She had dolefully noticed their weathered uniforms.
Vigilantly pausing in the doorframe to the pantry, Michonne observed Negan disappearing out of sight amongst the aisles. She stared darkly to her right at the boarded window that had been shattered, training on the large jagged shards strewn on the floor below. They glinted temptingly. Before she considered reaching out her hand -
"Where do you think you're going?"
Michonne spun and almost collided with a man behind her that she immediately reared back. Alarm bells blared in her head when he eyeballed her like a meal. "Nowhere." She barely grumbled and stalked off into the connecting hallway.
Out of nowhere, he pursued and snatched a hold of her elbow possessively. "Hold up.."
In reflex, she yanked out of his rough grip and made to move past him to avoid any further inappropriate "formalities" but he obstructed her path, lips pursed and sage green eyes sinking downwards. It roused a disconcerting shudder as she tensed.
Michonne tried to curve aside again but the Saviour blocked her way once more and attempted to cage his prey between the interconnecting walls as he edged closer. Needlessly close, she witnessed his pupils dilate as soon as she opened her mouth.
"Step. Back." An emphasis on her words and final warning for his foul intentions, the warrior was ready to tear into him baring her teeth if she had to.
But by some unanticipated turn of events, the young man collapsed to the hardwood floor with a crash as Lucille's untampered end slipped between his legs and knocked him off his feet with one forceful swipe.
Releasing a painful groan, he landed awkwardly with a crunch of his tailbone and whipped round to meet the baseball bat decoratively dressed in barbed wire trained down on him, along with something much worse. Negan.
"Woah! Don't take much to knock you on your ass, boy. You sure don't want anybody to know that. You look like you've been rode hard and put up soaked! Now I better not be seeing what I think I'm fucking seeing or there's gonna be a helluva lot of shit to pay. I'd compliment the size of your balls since I was on the goddamn premises, but sick freaks like you don't get shit from me. That is not what we do. You understand?" Negan leaned in slowly, incensed as his face burned with a rage that had Michonne holding her breath at the scene.
"Yes, Sir.." He answered meekly, frozen in place with fear and jolting pain.
"Good. You have somewhere to be. So I suggest hauling your ass before I break the fucking rest of you." Negan uttered dangerously, yanking the man up by his arm before he scurried away down the hall, leaving the two of them.
"What are you doing?" She reproved in a heartbeat.
"Can't have fucks like that be an image of our guys. We ain't fucking savages…"
"Yeah, you're very civilized." Michonne snipped with heavy sarcasm.
Scoffing, Negan watched as her plump walnut lips twisted with her snide remark and dainty fingers thrummed against her skin impatiently. "Look, we do what we have to, but we sure as hell ain't monsters. Now, I know that blue balls your 'moral code' - "
"God. Don't bother - "
"And I just spared you from making a big decision right there. You and I know you were goin' for his jugular - Though I'd be talking outta my ass if I said I wasn't curious to see that - " An amused rumble quivered in the back of his throat.
"Enough. I didn't ask for your help!"
"Oh, I heard ya! But better fucking gold idea," Negan fired back, clicking his tongue loudly. "You let me handle my own, as you handled yours."
"Well, you seem to do a good job of that." She grimaced, shaking her head heatedly as she stepped away. "I didn't ask to be out here either!"
"No." He started with a chilling air of calm. "But you high-tailed on up here of your own animosity. And now, you're here, where I am everywhere. The sooner you realize that, the sooner things will take a turn for you. Though I got a feelin' you're afraid you'll come around and find all this ain't as messed up as you wanted it to be."
Michonne scoffed as her shoulders tensed. I'll be dead first. "You're wasting your time."
The air was so brittle it could snap. As their eyes linked, she tried to decipher what Negan was thinking but his impenetrable stare and inscrutable countenance betrayed nothing. Glossed, like a veil. With heavy treads of his boots, he moved silently past her and paced down the hallway, slipping into the shadows.
With a roll of her eyes, she pushed the encounter to the back of her mind and continued passing supplies to be loaded into the black truck that lurked ominously outside. As time passed working in haste, stacking crate boxes and filling rucksacks, she sneered as she wished there was a way of smuggling some of this back home to everyone.
Turning into one of the adjacent rooms, she stopped dead in her tracks. The same man who had harassed her only moments ago laid sprawled out on his front on the floor, drenched in a pool of thick scarlet that spilled in rivers between the cracks of the boards! A look of horror cemented his pale face. Michonne's eyes bulged with a sharp exhale through her nostrils. She knew exactly what she was looking at. In spite, she yielded another morbid glance at the body, drawing in to the gaping wound at the hollow of his neck, teared, open and raw, another infliction in the crown of his head. The metallic tang permeating her senses was almost overpowering when at that moment, there was a crackle of static in the distance. Against her better judgement, Michonne reeled and followed the alerted sound to find Negan in the pantry again, pulling a radio from his belt. She eyed him attentively.
"Negan! Got a Red situation above you! Clear out of there!"
The second the warning passed their lips, there was a familiar splitting noise from above. Sharp, cracking sounds. Michonne's blood curdled as the ceiling suddenly caved under the weight! A slight tremor beneath their feet at the sheer force of countless bodies and splintered wood crashing down upon them! Were they all from the upper east wing?!
"Holy shit!" Negan yelled, backing up quickly. When it rained, it poured with motherfucking corpses! "Now's a time for crawlin' out of your assholes, boys!"
Standing their ground, sparks of gunfire flashed in the dimly lit room and chaotic mess of unloaded bullets and sprayed flesh! Racks tumbled over amidst the havoc, sending remaining cans and boxes skittering across the floor as walkers piled like pungent, writhing mounds.
Still without her own weapon and barely able to stance the attack, Michonne's heart sparked to life and pounded so fast she felt it would burst. Her initial shock dragged asunder, she pelted and shoved another rack over with all of her might to block their way. Bolting through the aisle, she dodged the mass of clawing hands that sprung through the gaps as one hobbling corpse steered around the corner towards her. She only had seconds. With the strength she could muster, Michonne gripped the solid frame and pulled her body up, elevating off the ground. With a powerful swing, the sole of her boot sent the grotesque figure plummeting to the floor! Almost stumbling, she darted out of the swarming room as starved growls nipped closely at her ears.
Running hurriedly into the hallway, the pounding surge of adrenaline kept her legs moving. Michonne needed something, anything she could use if she was to survive this. Michonne skidded to a halt as the horde had circled round the connecting halls. Guards that heard the commotion from outside lured a number into the open against the spiked barricade, but the forces converged on her position had her outnumbered.
Suddenly something heavy was tossed from behind at her feet with a piercing ring. She swerved round. A broken pipe?
"Figured you could use a hand there, doll!"
No time to question his intentions, Michonne scooped up the acquired weapon and fought off those that prowled too close before following Negan in retreat down the last, empty hall! Simultaneously, the pair engaged the undead that continued to close in, inching them further and further away from the distant gunshots.
The walkers inexorably pushed them back until they entered the storage warehouse, manoeuvring past the metal frames, wooden pallets and various abandoned equipment. Michonne took a breath and steadied her resolve. Right now, she craved her sword and the situation provided opportunity, but the chances of surviving this on her own.. Just this once. This one time.
"We'll live longer with two of us." She croaked in a serious tone.
Meanwhile Negan's husky laughter echoed off the walls and he grinned almost manically, like he couldn't have been more alive. "You got me on those odds, dreads! Common enemy, common goal, huh?!" He intoned as he firmly wielded Lucille and swung down with a growl on another, then another.
"Won't be a habit." Michonne snarled over the ravenous hunger of their common foe, adamant to shut down any influencing ideas over their temporary alliance. Swift and with flourish, she almost felt the phantom sensation of her sword at her fingertips as she jammed and swiped the razor-edged pipe.
Negan blew a breath. "Come on, you sorry sacks of shit!"
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.
She was greeted by vivid light that the edge of her vision blurred with scattered spots and her eyes almost rolled back into their sockets.
Blocking out the mixed voices, Michonne stood idly as a man hissing in pain was eased across the leather seats of the SUV. Her and Negan had emerged from the congealed mass of bodies about the warehouse, breath stolen from their lungs and steeped in blood. The stifling air had reeked of death that she was ever grateful to be outside again. Grateful to be alive. Recognizing the injured Saviour as the one that stashed the comic books, the look he'd given caught behind her eyelids, as the splitting sensation in her chest returned. He had gashed his leg against fractured metal during the attack and was in dire need of stitches, the thought of him bleeding out before making it back somehow bothering her. Perhaps something akin to guilt. Potentially another parent taken away from a child… or perhaps she was simply tired of watching people die and seeing the suffering it caused around them. Michonne knew she would never truly numb to loss, no matter how frequent it came to be. Never granted that kindness. The grim world of the dead was something they all continued to have in common, reminding them how human and fragile they really were under their masks. She watched with a disconcerting frown. The last thing she needed to feel was sympathy for these people..
Resonant with earlier gunfire, the gentle pitter-patter of rainfall was distinctly pleasant. Michonne craned her neck invitingly to the light shower that streamed in beads down her weary face and trickled from her chin, absolutely dying for a warm, comforting soak. God, she easily missed the luxury of bubble baths, sinking low into a warm liquid blanket that caressed her aching limbs and inhaling sweet aromas. In a rare moment of tranquility, her hands glided across her damp skin, wiping away the worst of the excess. A rustle came from beside her that she flicked her dripping lashes to find the darkly clad figure with the sticky coated bat perched over his broad shoulder. They stood too close for comfort that Michonne noticed the brown hazel of Negan's eyes, damp hair and tiny droplets falling from his silver ashen beard when he turned to regard her serenely. She looked away sullenly and folded her arms upon being disturbed, before a silent exchange passed between them, saving her pride and him the satisfaction.
But a knowing, fiendish smile tempted Negan's lips in parting as he walked away with lengthy strides, whistling to alert everyone's able attention. Slamming on the side of the truck, he signalled they were ready to head out.
"Good work out here! Let's get this back and unloaded. Shit, after that, I'm hoping to do a bit of unloading myself!" He chortled with a dramatic lean.
Michonne gazed on, unable to shake an intricate feeling of apprehension crawling down her spine. Like she'd set a single step towards some unknown abyss and now felt a pull at her feet. With quiet concern, she hauled up and slumped inside the truck, rubbing the lines of her forehead. Heaving a huge sigh, she let out all that had transpired, wrought with emotion and wanting nothing more than to wash and sleep. Far too much excitement for one day.
"Report to Simon. Whatever wisecracks he sends your way, he'll be heading to Hilltop real soon." Negan addressed his men with a mordant smirk.
Observing through the tinted screen, she could practically feel his temerity radiating as he approached the armoured truck and climbed in alongside. Michonne propped her head and closed her lids, but her mind bode too restless to succumb to the pull of slumber. Back on the road, just for a single moment, the purrs of the engine and drizzle tapping against the shell of her ear soothed her tense features and lolled her somewhere else entirely.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ohh, the sleep lost while writing this chapter and still not entirely sure if I like it or not, haha. Things are certainly happening here though, and as always the reviews and support mean the world. I hope you enjoy it, guys! ~ Disclaimer. I don't own anything in this fic!