FanFicReader47: I'm glad you're loving the interactions between Merle and Tea. They're definitely going to be coming more and more often as the story goes on. You once said that Daryl and Merle were like Tea's secret service, well, that idea got into my head and I'm flying with it with Merle...So, that's his purpose at living on in the story...
I have decided that I will only save ONE, count it 1, person per season. Andrea's time will be up as it is in the show. I like that I've changed her from a love-struck, delusional person to someone who actually cares about the town and the prison above the Governor, but I don't see where her part in the story could really continue and I don't want to force myself to save characters I've thought about saving but have no clear purpose for doing such. Merle's original purpose was to change and become another leader for the group to look up to, but he's morphed into I want to see him protect Tea from Negan...
That night, they were in various areas of the cell block just being in each other's company. Daryl was standing by the wall again, but Tea was on watch with Carl. Rick was out there with Judith at the moment talking to her about their next move. Tyreese and Sasha were being given a cell and some blankets by Sophia; they'd been given the night to rest and tomorrow they were going to be helping with the barricades. It was so quiet just standing around waiting on nothing that Daryl almost walked out to watch just for something to do other than stand around.
Beth began to sing as Rick came back into the cell block. He slowly made his way over to Daryl as Merle walked into the room, listening to Beth's singing. Rick still wasn't happy that the man was there, though he did seem less unhinged than the first time he'd met him.
"Some reunion, huh?" Daryl asked, breaking the silence aside from the singing.
"She's in a jam," Rick said.
"We all are," Hershel replied from his spot between the two men, looking down at baby Judith in Rick's arms. "Andrea's persuasive. This fella's armed to the teeth. Bent on destruction."
"So what are we gonna do?" Daryl asked Rick.
"We match it," he informed them. "I'm going on a run. Tea already knows and agrees."
"I'll head out tomorrow," Daryl said, knowing Rick couldn't do it himself.
"No, you stay here," Rick told him. "Keep an eye on your brother. I'm glad you're back, really, but if he causes problems it's on you."
"I got him," Daryl told him, even though he knew he really didn't need to worry about Merle; at least not for now. "He'll be fine."
"I'll take Michonne," Rick said, ignoring Daryl's last statement.
"You sure that's a good idea?" Daryl asked.
"Tea says it is, so I'll find out. And Carl. Tea says he needs to get out of the prison for a while. You hold it down here with her."
"You got it," Daryl said, pushing off the wall and walking over to his brother. "Rick still don't trust you."
"Hell, he'd be a fool if he did," Merle said. "Only here for you and Ani."
"Come on, Merle, give 'em a chance."
"They ain't my family. Now go get your girl; her watch is over," Merle said, pushing Daryl towards the stairway in the commons.
Daryl still wasn't sure what to do with Merle anymore. He was different, changed for the better, but something was still off about him. The brother he'd always known was standing in front of him, yet seemed so distant it was as if he wasn't there at all. Not unless he was talking to Hershel or Ania, and with Ania, it seemed like every time she opened her mouth to build him up, Merle would clam up and walk away. He didn't see what Ania and Daryl did, and Daryl was afraid that he was going to lose his brother completely if things didn't change. And not because he would do something stupid; no, Daryl was afraid that the change for the better in Merle would have him do something incredibly reckless to help the prison.
Walking out into the courtyard, he went over to the fence-line where Ania and Carl were keeping watch, though at the moment they were on opposite ends. Daryl took that chance to wrap his arms around Ania from behind and attack her neck with his lips. She chuckled and smacked his arms lightly before putting her rifle down and turning around so that she could kiss him properly. It only lasted a moment before they parted from each other, her turning back around and picking her rifle up and him looking out past the field with one arm wrapped around her shoulders.
It was almost nice, if it weren't for the constant walker noise from the field. They could get into the guard tower easily enough, but with Ania not having her throwing knives anymore and the two of them only having so many bolts, it wasn't feasible to clear the field any time soon. Rick's run was invaluable to them if they were going to reclaim the prison from the dead. Daryl couldn't help but think that he needed to get Ania more weapons too. She was used to having a gun, her bow, and seven blades and was down to her bow now that the rest of her things had been confiscated by Woodbury. That had caused her to enter a slight depression, her not having been as lively as she normally was since their return.
She'd tried to assure him it wasn't just the loss of her weapons, but their current predicament as well, but he knew better. They had been her precious possessions and had been taken away in a way she could never reclaim them. It had hurt her, and she was doing her best to ignore the pain. He knew she was hurting, though. It was in how she used to take careful pride in polishing her knives when she had nothing better to do, but the knife she currently had she barely even bothered cleaning. She only attended to her bow, now, and even then it wasn't as often or religiously as it had been. He almost felt like she had given up when it came to weapons.
"We should make a run, too," he mumbled beside her. "Get you more knives."
"Not important right now, D," she told him seriously. "When business with the Gov'na is done and dealt with, then ya can take me whereva ya want. But for now, we gotta protect our family, our home. We gotta stay here and defend what's ours."
"Anywhere I want?" Daryl asked her, moving to stand behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning into her ear.
"Mmhmm. Let ya kidnap me for the day and let it be jus' us two. Been too long since we had time ta ourselves without bein' on a time table or workin' a run."
"You just wanna scream my name again," Daryl teased, his mouth going back to her neck for a minute as she sighed and tilted her head to give him more access.
"As much of a lovely thought as that is, I was actually thinkin' 'bout more tame activities. A good ol' fashion hunt, for startas," she laughed, earning a chuckle from him before he quieted down.
"Merle says he's only here for us," Daryl said in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Ya worried?"
"A bit."
"I'll keep me eyes on 'im," Tea told him while rubbing the small of his back. "We'll keep 'im safe too."
"Who's gonna keep you safe if you're keeping everyone else safe?"
"That's what I got ya for, ain' it?"
Daryl just chuckled and kissed her forehead as Carl walked over, having seen the two and decided to give them a minute. That's when she informed him that he would be going on a run with his dad in the morning. Carl perked up at that, earning a smile from Daryl. He knew Ania was trying to help the boy feel better about the situation with his mom and that it had been a long time since she'd taken him on a run. During the winter, when the walkers were calmer, it'd been easy enough to allow the kids to come with them, but not since spring. Not since the walkers started acting up again. So letting him go on a run now was her showing how much she trusted him, which was something Carl seemed to catch on as he thanked her before being told to go inside and send Glenn out. The two chuckled together as they watched him walk off, finally having a little pep to his step.
~x~
The next morning found Rick in a car sitting shotgun as Michonne drove down the highway, Carl in the back seat. Littered with leaves, the road was clear for the most part, though riddled with little signs people had left their loved ones about their location or destination. They were heading back to King County, back to their home town, in the hopes of being able to get more weapons from the various places in town that kept weapons hidden in places others wouldn't think to look. After that they would find another place to hit up if they were lucky.
They drove past a man that was screaming for them to stop. Neither Rick nor Michonne paid any mind to the man, but Carl felt a little concern, "Aren't you going to stop?"
"No," came his father's answer.
"Tea would want you to stop," Carl said.
"Tea ain't here right now," Rick said. "We've already got four newcomers at the prison, I'm not risking any more."
They continued driving in silence until they came upon an accident in the road. To get around it, they would have to off road it. That didn't work out too well as the front tires got stuck in mud from going to slow. The sound of the engine and the squeal of the tires attracted walkers from the surrounding area, them coming to bang on the car. Carl was slightly worried. They were safe in the car, but that didn't mean that the walkers couldn't potentially bust through. Michonne looked bored, as if she was over the walkers and everything they represented in the world gone mad.
As the walkers crowded the vehicle, Rick told them to cover their ears. Rolling down his window, Carl and Michonne did as they were told before the man took aim and fired, killing one of the walkers. He continued the process until all the walkers that had surrounded the vehicle lay in a pile at his door. Michonne and Carl had to get out and move the bodies before he could get out. They spent the next several minutes rifling through the wrecked vehicles as Rick looked for something they could use to gain traction under the tire. Carl kept side-eyeing Michonne, which she returned with an impassive look of her own.
"Yeah, this'll work," Rick said, holding up an article of clothing before picking up some sticks.
"Tell me when," Michonne told him, walking back over to the driver's seat.
Carl followed his father, arms crossed against his chest as he looked down. He understood that they were taking chances at the prison, but he didn't understand why his dad was so cold to welcoming outsiders whereas Tea was much more open. Looking at the bigger picture, it was beginning to upset Carl that his dad was being like this. More people meant more chance to survive, Tea had made sure to verbally beat that into his and Sophia's heads, giving them signs to look for in people that showed trust and others that were sketchy. There was a possibility of making the prison into something better, but his dad couldn't see it.
"Put something under the car like this," Rick told him, "with a little gravel and sticks, it will give us traction."
"Wouldn't have to do it if she didn't get us stuck," Carl said, remembering Tea had asked him to keep an eye on Michonne just in case the woman tried anything while they were by themselves.
"It was an honest mistake," Rick told him.
"Why'd Tea let her come? Why did you? She took you to Woodbury and then just split on you guys, and Oscar died and Tea and Daryl got caught. Why does Tea trust her enough to come?" he asked, confused more than angry.
"It wasn't that simple," was his response. "I asked Tea to let her come today. She's got enough on her plate with Tyreese, Sasha, Merle and working on the prison's defenses. I didn't want to leave her at the prison if I wasn't there, not with Merle. That, and we got common interests. For right now, we've got the same problems. So we might as well work on them together. It's just for right now."
"Do you think Tea will be okay with that?"
"I think she'll decide what's best for the prison in the end, but for right now, I'm still less inclined to accept new people," Rick said. "I already messed up once, I'm not doing that again."
The man from earlier came hollering, Carl standing by Rick as he gave Michonne the go ahead. As the car moved over their makeshift ramp, Rick stared in the direction of the man. Without hesitation, he told Carl to climb back in the car and they continued on their way to King County. They stopped just outside of town, making their way through the outskirts and into the back of the police station. Rick had been hoping to find a stash of weapons, but found a completely empty weapons vault instead. Angry, he kicked one of the racks as Michonne bent down to pick up a single bullet.
"Got any other police stations in town?" she asked calmly.
"I was the police here," Rick shot back. "Me and a few other guys. It ain't a big town." He paused for a moment thinking. "There's other places to check. May not have as many guns as were in here, but-" he sighed in frustration before Michonne cut him off.
"We need as many guns as were in here. Ammo too."
"Yeah, we do," he told her honestly. "But right now, I only got a line on a couple. There's a few places out on Main Street. A couple bars, a liquor store. Owners had a gun or two behind the counter people didn't know about. I did. I signed the permits. They might still be there. Do you have a problem with that approach?" he asked her.
She looked at him, considering him for a moment. She'd seen the affect losing his wife had on him, and it reminded her of her own losses right at the beginning. It had taken a while for her not to see things too, but she'd come out on top by focusing on surviving. Thinking back to her walkers, she realized that maybe she hadn't been so healthy back in the beginning to have kept them with her that entire time. It wasn't until their presence threatened the life of her first friend since that fateful day that she had managed to part with them. Although it had been an easy decision for her to make, she had still kept them, claiming their usefulness when in all honesty, she had still been reluctant. Losing them meant losing the last bit of her past that she had with her aside from the sword, so she could understand Rick's suspicion as well as his hallucinations.
"No, Rick. I don't have a problem," she told him with a soft look before handing him the bullet and walking out.
They continued on foot towards Main Street, stopping for a moment as they walked past an abandoned courtyard that had a pile of burned walker corpses. There were arrows painted on the ground and as they rounded the corner onto Main Street, they were confused by what they saw. Rats, other small rodents, and birds were in various live traps, all safely nestled within a trap made of what looked to be sharpened tiki sticks and wood pallets. There were many of these traps lining the street as they walked up to the first line.
"It looks like someone's already made this theirs," Michonne said.
"Doesn't mean they found what we're looking for," Rick said, maintaining his vigilance of the buildings. "A couple of the places are just up ahead. Let's get in and get the hell out of here."
They cautiously made their way under a rope line that doubled as an alert system and a snare for walkers, Rick pointing out a store, "There. Tyrell's. A shotgun and two handguns. License issued to Tyrell Debbs." A walker came up behind them, Michonne making ready to take care of it when Rick told her to stop. "She'll get caught."
As soon as the walker touched the snare line, a gun shot sounded off, the walker's head exploding as a male voice rang out for their hands. Rick ran into action, quickly revealing his hands and moving into an open area, finding the gunman on the roof of one of the buildings, Carl right beside him. Michonne was still behind the car, though.
"Now you drop what you got and you go," the gunman shouted to them. "Your guns, your shoes, and that sword! All of it! Ten seconds!"
"Run for the car now," Rick told Carl as the man started counting down.
"Dad?"
"We need that rifle," Michonne said. "I think I can get up there."
Taking a moment to consider it, he told Carl to go as he brought his pistol down and fire off two rounds in quick succession. He and Michonne took cover as the man began to fire off round after round in an attempt to get to them. They could barely move due to his cover fire. It lasted for a few minutes as Rick loaded the last round into his Python, the round Michonne gave him. Readying himself with a deep breath, he stood up and took aim at the rooftop, only to find it empty. Michonne's appearance a second later confirmed that the man had quickly moved off the roof. They didn't have to wonder where the man had gone for long as he rounded a corner and started firing at Rick again, who was far too open for either of their liking. He barely had time to make it to the cover of a barrel between shots, once again preparing himself to stand up and shoot. As soon as he did, though, Carl came out of no where and shot the man in the stomach. Michonne appeared with her sword at the ready as the man fell, Carl looking down on him as Rick approached.
"You okay?" he asked his son.
Carl shook his head, taking a steadying breath, "Yeah."
"I told you to run to the car. I didn't want you to have to do that."
"I had to," Carl said. "You'd do the same for me or anyone else in the group. Tea too. I had to."
Rick noticed that the man wasn't bleeding and bent down, pounding on his chest and finding something hard underneath. Ripping his shirt open, he commented and showed them that he was wearing body armor, a Kevlar vest from the police station. Undoing the strap and lifting the man's shirt, they found him sporting an awful looking bruise to his side and ribs, but no bleeding from the bullet's impact.
"He's alive," Rick stated.
"Do we care?" Michonne asked.
When Rick took the man's face covering off, shock and regret filling his face as he looked at the man on the ground, "Yeah. It's Morgan."
"Who?" both Michonne and Carl asked at the same time.
"Remember how I told you about the man who helped me out when I first woke up?" he asked Carl, who nodded his head, vaguely remembering the first night around the campfire with both his parents. "This is him."
They found some sort of stretcher like contraption Morgan had made and had hauled him up onto it to get him off the cold ground. He walked off and started looking around, trying to find any trace of habitable areas. As he was searching, he told Michonne about how Morgan had found him when he'd just woken up, leaving the woman to follow along with him while Carl stood watch over the man. Carl didn't mind, but it was odd that his dad was suddenly very concerned with this man when not even two hours ago he'd been adamant about not allowing others into the group. Then again, he never did say they were taking him back to the prison. He'd pretty much just walked away.
"Keep an eye out for booby traps," Rick told Michonne as he rounded a corner, finding what looked to be the residence of the man. "Looks like he's gotten pretty creative so far."
"I thought we were just going to get in and get the hell out of here," she asked.
"Well, I'm not leaving him on the street," Rick told her, looking back.
"Look, I know he said he helped you," Michonne started before getting cut off by Rick.
"He saved my life. He wasn't like this then."
"Okay," she said.
"Jesus, he has a son!" Rick remembered.
"You think he's in there?" she asked him.
He looked back at her before holstering his gun and making his way through the barbed wire and stakes. Before he could step on the welcome mat, Michonne called to him to be careful, reminding him that he was the one who suggested there might be booby traps. He looked back at her before looking down at the map and carefully pulling it up, finding several blades sticking up from a hole in the cement he had obviously put there.
"Thank you," Rick told her, to which she rolled her eyes.
"Let's just get him inside and go," she said quietly, turning her back to Rick and walking over to Carl.
To say it was a struggle to get the man into the house was an understatement. Neither she nor Rick really had the upper body strength to support a heavier set man like Morgan, and even together they huffed and puffed as they finally got him into the house. Going up the stairs was another struggle, especially for Michonne, who's leg had yet to fully heal from getting shot. She went to take another step as they reached the top only for Rick to call out in warning; had she put her foot down, she would have tripped a wire. Whatever trap laid after that was unknown, but most likely deadly. Together, they stepped up into the entry way and carefully picked the man up enough to get him over the wire himself before continuing on. The trap would have landed them with an ax to the head as Rick called to Carl to watch for the wire.
It was a weapon's cache galore inside the apartment. Crates full of grenades, walls lined with all kinds of high-powered rifles, shelves of ammo and pistols. The three of them stopped just to stare at it all, disbelief almost making their jaws drop; well, Michonne and Rick's. Carl's did drop.
"I showed him that weapons locker last year," Rick told them.
"And it had all of this in it?"
"No, not even half," he said, sounding impressed. "He's been busy. The cot."
They maneuvered through the room to get the man to the cot. Rick just stood and stared at him as Michonne grabbed a bag and started filling it with grenades. Carl was doing similar with a box and bullets. Whatever they didn't find in that weapon's locker was more than made up for in this one room, and they intended to arm up as much as possible. Rick checked under the cot and then read the writing on the wall. There were rules written on one and after reading them he walked away. Originally, he'd meant to start grabbing guns, but he found the old walkie talkie he'd given the man sitting there.
Regret ran through him anew as he saw it, but it was nothing compared to the astonishment and guilt he felt when he noticed writing in red on the wall in front of him. 'Duane turned,' Morgan had written. His son had got bit. The son who was supposed to learn how to shoot. The son that was Carl's age. He'd been bit or somehow otherwise died and had turned. Morgan had had to put down his own son. Rick couldn't stop himself when he said no, making the other two stop rummaging through the room.
"We're gonna wait for him to wake up," he told them. "Make sure he's okay."
"He tried to kill us," Michonne reasoned.
"He told us to go. He didn't know who we were," Rick argued.
"He tried to kill us and we didn't leave him for the walkers," Michonne told him strictly. "He's had a good day. He doesn't need half of these guns. We do."
"We're waiting for him to wake up, that's it," Rick said.
"Have you taken a look around this place?" Michonne tried to reason again. "The ax, the spike, the walls."
"You think he's crazy?" Rick spat.
"No," Michonne said, still as calm as ever. "I think he's dangerous."
"I know him," Rick tried to make a case.
"He wasn't like this then," she whispered softly.
"We're gonna wait for him to wake up," Rick said before turning away from her and grabbing some zip ties.
He walked over to the bed and began to restrain the man as Carl looked at a wall. It was a map of the entire town. In detail, the streets were laid out as well as the houses, each marked with a various letter or symbol to represent the state it was in. Many houses had been crossed out, but Carl knew the roads now that he was looking at them. An idea began forming in his head; with the help of this map, he could find the diner they used to eat at as a family and they still might have the picture of his mom. He needed to get that picture for Judith. It was the last one they had left of their mom.
"What do you see?" Rick asked from behind him.
"Our neighborhood," he replied. "It's gone."
"Is that why you wanted to come? To see the house? Carl?"
"I just wanted to come," he said, the sound of crunching ringing out in the silence and cutting the tension.
Rick scoffed as he turned back to Michonne, who was busy munching on a bag of chips, "We're eating his food now?"
She just shrugged her shoulders as he walked back over to the guns and quipped, "Mat said 'welcome.'"
She sat studying the boy that Parker had asked her to keep an eye out for as he walked up to his father and said, "I'm going on a run."
"Where?" Rick asked him.
"I thought, maybe the one thing people didn't loot was cribs," he told him. "There's that baby place that mom's friend Sarah ran. It's just around the corner."
"Carl," Rick started, but was immediately cut off by Carl.
"Dad, it's just around the corner," he argued. "And there's all those walker traps."
"You're gonna need some help carrying the box," Michonne said nonchalantly as she looked away from him.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"If you're gonna get a crib, you have to get the box. It's big, and heavy. You're gonna need help carrying the box. You are getting a crib, right?"
He nodded and said, "That's what I said."
"Then I'll go with him," she said simply, Rick looking at her back in consideration.
"Right there, that's the deal. You get into trouble, you holler, you hear? I'll hear it from here."
"Okay," Carl said as he left the room, Michonne grabbing her sword and following out behind him.
He stormed out of the building, double checking if the walkers that were snarling away on the traps were truly stuck. Walking away, he noticed Michonne following him at a short distance, irritation growing as he thought of what he was planning on doing. She would tell his father, or worse, not let him do it at all.
"You don't have to come with me," he told her as he continued marching along. "I can handle it."
"I told your dad I'd help you," she replied plainly.
"Yeah okay," he scoffed as a walker roamed into the streets. "Guess we should take care of that."
"Mmm," was the only response he got as the woman walked over to the walker and unsheathed her sword, easily felling the thing without realizing that Carl had walked off. When she did, she cursed and looked around for him, catching his back just as he rounded a corner and out of sight. Running after him, she pulled him to a stop.
"What the hell was that?"
"I want to do this on my own," he told her before walking away.
"You just passed the baby place," she hollered after him.
"I'm getting Judith something else first, okay?" he said before walking off.
Impressed by the amount of courage the kid had, she simply followed along behind him as he walked towards his destination. As they reached what looked to be the front patio of a diner, he pulled his gun and cautiously made his way towards the doors. She walked calmly behind him, not saying a word, but keeping an eye on him. Stepping up to the doors, he rubbed a hole in the dust to see through the glass, not hearing any walkers, but it looked like there were corpses sitting at a few of the tables. He went to open the door, but Michonne stopped him and gently pushed him back towards the road. When he got the hint, he began to all but stomp off. Whatever was in that restaurant was important to him, but not as important as keeping his life.
"Did you really think I was going to let you go in there?" she asked him.
"I just think it's none of your business," Carl said, turning towards her and answering honestly. "You don't know me. You don't know my dad. You barely recall Tea except that she was a good fighter."
"I came out here to help," she told him as she stepped up to him.
"You came out here for common interests," he spat back. "We have the same enemy and the same interests and that's why you're here. That's it. This is important. I'm going to do this. And I know how I can. You can't stop me."
"Psst," she said, stopping him in his tracks as he walked away. "I can't stop you. But you can't stop me from helping you."
He told her his plan to grab some of the rodents and put them on a skateboard to push into the restaurant to gain the attention of the walkers inside, if there were any. Then they could grab the picture he wanted to get while the walkers were distracted and get out and return to the baby store for the crib without his dad ever having to know about it. It was a decent plan, Michonne thought, though she highly doubted it would work smoothly. Too many things could go wrong, but the boy was determined.
They kicked two cages into the dining room and watched as the corpses sprang to life to chase after them. It was a good thing Michonne hadn't let him go in as they had all been dormant walkers. They entered quietly, closing the door behind them and waited to make sure the walkers were busy. Sneaking through the restaurant behind a partition, they managed to make it to the bar. Michonne kept a watch as Carl climbed up onto the bar, carefully retrieving the picture while watching out for walkers. He was almost clear, ready to climb back down when a walker reached out and grabbed his leg. Although it startled him, as soon as it's head came into view from under the counter, Michonne's katana was through it's skull. She carefully removed the blade as she held onto the walker's head, softly placing it on the counter so that it wouldn't make a noise. She helped Carl off the counter and they made their way back towards the door.
They had almost made it when a rat came around the partition, bringing the group of previously preoccupied walkers head to head with the two of them. Michonne pulled Carl behind her and told him to go through the kitchens. Unfortunately, there had been walkers in the kitchen as well, forcing Carl to shoot one while Michonne took out three more. They made their way around the back of the dining room and through to the front door again. Carl pushed a table over to stall for time, but dropped his picture by doing so. There was no way to get to it to pick it up as the group of walkers came rushing into the room towards them. Michonne all but pushed him out the door, slamming it shut and keeping her back against it as Carl panicked.
"We have to go back in!"
"Where is it?" she asked him.
"We have to go back. We have to. I have to," he cried. "It's the only one left!"
When she didn't respond, he tried to open the door only for her to stop him. "Not like this. I don't know you. I get that. But can you do something for me?" she asked him. "Wait here."
"I can help!"
"No!" she said, cutting him off. "You wait here. That's how we get this done."
He nodded his head and she gave him her position by the door. He looked down and breathed deeply, feeling ashamed of himself for being unable to keep a hold of the picture. It was the only picture of his mother left that he knew of; the photo albums had gotten lost when they'd had to abandon the farm. Judith would never know what her mother looked like without it.
Only a few moments had passed when he heard Michonne call from beside him, "Hey."
She held the picture out to him, "I just—I just thought Judith should, should know what her mom looks like. Thank you."
"I was going to go back in anyway," she said indifferently, holding up a multicolored cat sculpture. "I just couldn't leave this behind. It's too damn gorgeous."
Carl couldn't help the smile that formed on his face as she said that. They made their way quietly to the baby store, finding it mostly intact. Grabbing all the formula they could, they found a play pen they took out of the box and propped open, using it to haul the formula, blankets, clothes, and diapers they'd found. Coming back out to the car, they found Rick carrying three bags out to the car.
"Hey, I was just about to look for you," he told them.
"Sorry," Carl replied.
"It's alright. You're here now," he said as Carl looked blatantly at the blood on his dad's shirt. "Oh, it's nothing."
Michonne reached out for one of the bags, earning a thanks from the old cop. "He's okay," she mentioned as they watched Morgan using a hospital stretcher to gather up the walkers.
"No, he's not," Rick replied.
"Wait," Carl said, earning a warning from his dad, "Morgan." When the man looked up, Carl told him, "I had to shoot you. You know I had to, right?" The man nodded, Carl adding, "I'm sorry."
"Hey, son," Morgan said, coming around the stretcher. "Don't ever be sorry," he told him looking slightly disgusted.
The trio continued forward. Rick had already brought several bags out and had them placed behind the back of the car, ready to put them in when Carl and Michonne returned. They would have grenades, ammo, and guns to spare with this one haul, having taken two thirds of the stash Morgan had. The man didn't even care that they were clearing him out, and Rick had given up on him. There was no point in trying to persuade a man that had nothing left to live for, at least, not without Tea and her knowledge of the mind.
"Everything go alright with her?" Rick asked Carl as Michonne stepped away.
"I think she might be one of us," Carl told him, surprising his father.
"What?"
"Everything went okay."
"Hop in, I'll throw this in the back," he told his son, taking his words along with Tea's into account as the woman in question came back with a new crossbow and three more bags of guns.
Rick was looking around as she threw the bags into the back of the car, "You see something?" He looked at her confused before she gave him a half smile and told him, "I know you see things. People. I used to talk to my dead boyfriend," she told him, leaving out the part where she talked to his corpse for the longest time too, before she'd found Andrea and beheaded it. "It happens."
"You want to drive?" he asked her.
"Yeah."
"Good," he said, handing over the keys. "I see things."
They loaded back into the car and headed back towards the prison, Morgan working on burning the corpses of the walkers as they passed by him. They were closing in on the traffic accident that had gotten them stuck the first time. They used the other side of the road this time, not getting stuck in the mud and dirt like before. Not too far after that, they came across the torn and ravished body of the man that had been calling for help. His bag was still intact and they backed up to grab it before driving off. Whatever could help for the coming war.
Updated 9/10/21