»»—- —-««
Scratching wildly at the steel, the walkers continue to crowd like sheep in a flock. Everyday hoping to breach the walls of the peaceful community once again, much like the disaster years ago when the streets became swarmed. Upon taking it back, it proved a hopeful step for Alexandria's growth. It had been a long month after the raging snow storm, satisfying to view the last patches of white finally melting away to nothing like it hadn't existed.
Michonne finds herself wandering the roads returning to her home, jaw locked tight at what was to occur. Her companion trails closely behind her, taking in the sights curiously and staring up at the sky. Inviting the man inside her home willingly is undoubtedly surreal, suddenly wondering if she's making the biggest mistake of her life. Nonetheless, it was essential she speak with him, like equals. Conceivably.
What was to happen to Negan now, as they moved forward?
It was always the initial decision to keep him confined, but circumstances raise room for manoeuvre. After he'd rescued Judith and even Dog during the bitter cold, it was like a catalyst. Troubling Michonne greatly, she was left to wonder if there had been misconceptions, going as far as to take into consideration about what the two had discussed formerly. Only she refused to listen back then, too heated at the man figuring things out that she couldn't see through the clear screen. The cell was more than a simple prison, it was also a barrier from letting Negan in, only his talent for words still managed to slip through the cracks into her buried doubts, about what was right and wrong. Unknown as to why, he continued trying to advise her, reaching out to assist her somehow.
While the prison would certainly provide the privacy Michonne required for this discussion, it felt like a step back after what's happened. Nothing would change, unless there was effort to make change, albeit knowing she's plunging into deep water here. That saying; keep your enemies closer. Only, she slowly begins to see that maybe he's not one to them anymore, however foggy it is whether Negan can be deemed as an ally. Neither was she oblivious to Negan's potential worth as an ally. One of the many talents this man seems to play on is camouflaging his skin to suit his current objective, she knew he'd been a good manipulator in the past, so she was quick to have her suspicions that he was attempting to pull the strings behind bars. Yet, a part of her wanted to believe otherwise, mostly for her daughter. If Judith saw it, perhaps it wasn't so wrong of her to as well, inevitable during the years that Michonne would acclimate to Negan's presence.
It dawns on her that she may require his aid more than anticipated, especially with the Whisperers and their brutal nature. Their presented victims along the border were still fresh in her mind, tormenting her. Recovering from the Saviours, Alexandria hadn't come back looking for a fight, but one was certainly looking for them. If war was on the horizon, there would be more loss. Michonne would have to abandon her humanity once again. At times like these, she finds herself envying the dead.
With a jerk of her head motioning Negan inside, she closes the door behind them, briefly checking outside for curious eyes. Michonne wanders into the kitchen with a sway of her hips, facing away as she opens a cupboard to retrieve a glass. "You're looking better."
Not the opener he'd been expecting. Looking to her in disbelief, a signature smirk stretches across his face. "Well shit. You actually sounded serious there, dreads."
"It'd be problematic if you weren't recovering." She replies nonchalantly.
Negan strides in confidently, watching her. "That so? Didn't know you were that concerned with me."
When the woman stays silent, feeling the cogs in her brain turning a mile a minute from where he stood, he takes the time to scan his newfound surroundings, eyes homing to his right. He instinctively swipes one of the acorn and beat cookies sitting on the side in a snack box. Glancing up while munching loudly, he almost chokes battling back a laugh. Goddamn if looks could kill. "Je-sus. I don't know shit about what I just shoved in there, but holy hell these are good. Been hiding 'em, huh?"
Exhaling deeply, Michonne just leaves him to it with a small roll of her eyes. It'd been probably more appealing in terms of food he'd received in a long time. Though the fact he was able to stroll in here and take what he wanted like it belonged to him. Some things would never change. Although, Negan's animated bounce to his posture when he's enjoying himself did help to ease the weighted tension in her to some extent.
"You make these?" Negan's deep voice rumbles with his mouth half full.
The samurai gawks in silence, before nodding shortly. "I learned from a friend."
"My fucking compliments. Got us a woman of many talents." He chuckles. "Though I know you didn't bring me here to feed me fuckin' cookies, just…" The man huffs softly, running a hand down his stubble. "Hell. This...?" Negan admires the usual comfy décor and bright, welcoming atmosphere of their modern house, already feeling like an intruder again. The familiar feeling stimulates flashing memories of when he'd instead made himself an honoured guest without a fuck to give. Vividly recalling exploring each room, cooking at the stoves, perched at the table and on the porch with his favourite little serial killer. Negan takes a breath. Shit… he still missed that kid.
Michonne organises some cutlery on the side, just finding something to mentally prepare. Tilting her head down and tucking a dreadlock behind her ear, her interest piques when he trails off. "What?"
"Just didn't expect this. Inviting me to your home, that's pretty ballsy, for the head of security." He eyes her carefully, half entering the pristine, openly spaced kitchen and propping himself against one of the walls. "Last time, I had a goddamn shovel."
Furrowing her brows, she suddenly wondered if he's testing her. Trying to uncover Negan's motives always frustratingly intangible. "Well no one's stopping you from repeating that. Though I doubt you'd get very far if you tried."
"I ain't intending to. You should know that."
"Because you're a changed man." Michonne quotes with a drawl as she turns to lean her weight against the counter, brows shot up in challenge once more. It earns a tug at the man's lips. "Finally seeing the world for more than it is? For what it can be? Things that can be done differently."
He shrugs impassively. "Call it whatever you gotta."
"How many other ways would you put it?"
"Adapting." Negan doesn't elaborate.
"Or… not being a maniacal asshole."
Another chuckle resonates from him, before tilting his head up. "Why'd you really bring me here, dreads?" He wonders.
"To talk about you, I'm sure you'll appreciate that." She quips. "I need to know where you stand in our situation; in what's soon to happen and what it will mean afterwards." If there was an afterwards. "Part of this journey, is the end." Michonne starts with an air of authority. "And you're here to help with how it ends."
Processing her words, the man's eyes narrow. "I was under the impression I didn't hold any power in that."
"Circumstances have changed."
"Huh. And how's that? Am I not to continue rotting underground? Dead or alive, or some kinda shit in between?"
Michonne scoffs lightly, folding her arms. "That depends on you."
"Really. You know I can be so much more than your people give me credit for. You just gotta be willin' to take that chance. Come on, thought you guys had balls?"
"We also know you talk a big game."
"Woah. Now hold on. Ever seen me go back on my word, Michonne? I've been nothing but straight with ya. Thought you people knew me by now."
"So, you've said." He'd certainly made a lasting impression. She hardens. "I may regret this, but I'm asking for your help because you know exactly how to deal with hostile groups. You assist us and who knows what could happen."
A wicked glint reflects in his eyes, rich as earth's soil, seizing the depth and weight of many untold stories while wetting his lips. "So, you're saying my life sentence won't mean shit?"
"I'm saying I'm considering it."
"Shit, dreads." Negan breathes, the inescapable grin sweeps across his face. "I grow on you that much?"
The unsuspecting warmth swirls in her chest. The need to defend herself strong, while he continues to prod and provoke, combating her inner sentiments to return a belittle tone. "Don't flatter yourself. I just want to do what feels right, for them. Since I relinquished most of my position, it's not just my decision anymore. The council would have a final say after discussing it. That's as good as it gets." Michonne pauses. "I've no more had a change of heart than you have. Whatever reasons there are behind that."
Negan holds his tongue, prodding the side of his cheek with a harsh scoff, remembering simply wanting to establish a connection with someone - with her - because his isolation had grown too suffocating. Having become starved of human interaction, the walls of his prison felt as though they crept towards him inch by inch, enclosing the man further and shrinking his stability. Through the worst, he couldn't even rely on his darling Lucille to comfort him. She was gone. Negan had to rely elsewhere. Nothing worse than nothing… It had all been something to cling to, made his years of imprisonment less shitty while he continued to watch the world leave him behind. Then seasons came and the little spitfire grew more indulgently curious about their prisoner while Michonne had strayed away following Rick's death.
"Some will think exile." Michonne frowns slightly, pushing past the dragged silence. "Course Judith wouldn't let that happen and defeats the whole purpose of keeping you alive here."
Negan troubles at the thought but seems to find comfort that the girl fought for him this far, turning his head to the staircase leading to the young Grimes' room.
"Who knows? You could get out for good behaviour." Michonne says dryly, quirking a brow while taking a sip of her water. Negan snorts, sensing him staring in her direction with something akin to fondness. Thought she could've been imagining it.
"What do you think?"
Michonne pauses then, thoughts scattering as she lowers the crystal glass onto the counter with a sigh, walking round the island to stand level with him. Judith still believed he could be useful if given the opportunity, as much as Michonne hesitated with the idea initially. A probation, maybe? In the end, it all weighed on her shoulders. "I know you said that you could help us. Help this place. Help me." Crossing her arms, Michonne studies him, wondering what they could devise together if she took the offer. "Why? Because you'd rather not watch another community fall apart?"
"Not a whole lot out there still standing." Negan states, glancing through the pane at the bending, cosy streets of Alexandria. "This damn place rubbed off on me. Hell, since I first brought my people in here, I saw you guys were living fucking luxury and you've kept it going. Like I said, seeing something that worked for so long - a system - go to shit, it sucks ass."
Michonne exhales roughly.
"Sure, I did try to blow ya guys to holy hell and back - " Negan strains an inadvertent smile, finding it amusing when he probably shouldn't right now.
"Mhm."
"- but, watching this place, what you built, people that follow and respect you even if they aren't on board with your decisions. Watching you survive. Seems a damn fucking shame to waste all that."
She arches a brow, humming. She had an inkling there were other reasons he wasn't willing to share. "Considering your last venture out there, as long as there's walls, I'm sure it suits you fine."
A noise vibrates in his throat. "Well, there is that." His usual smirk falls flat as his tone turns sombre. "Nothing out there for me anymore, right?"
Despite herself, Michonne feels a deep, inner tug, like something jerking the strings to force her mouth open to speak. A deep breath pierces the thick silence encompassing them, focusing her attention outside. In the distance, the residents were in groups conversing with each other while their children were able to behave like children, faint melodies of music drifting into the air. Her mind unexpectedly reverts to the snowball fight that even Daryl partook in; a silly, childish game that drew out so many warm smiles. Michonne almost never had this.
"I was like you, before. I was on the outside. Nobody trusted me, I didn't give them a reason to trust me. I didn't kill their people, but I killed people. A lot. I stopped thinking of myself as a person, surviving on my own, the way I did. So, I didn't know if I wanted to stay, didn't know if I wanted people to trust me, to see me. Before I had an answer for that, it was already happening. People were seeing me for who I really was. I wasn't just another monster out there anymore. Through them, through good people, I came back." Michonne's chocolate eyes finally settle back to him, remembering all their faces. Breaking out of her old self years ago, it was as if she were blooming and stretching towards the sun, striving to live once more in all her colours. Perhaps her and Negan really were more alike than first depicted.
"The point I'm making is whether you'd consider staying... contributing, as opposed to surviving in a cell all day, every day for however long you got left." Michonne murmurs, the idea sounding absurd as she says it out loud. "To make something of yourself here. A new start. You have that chance now." Suddenly these words felt familiar. Where had she spoken them before?
The man presents a sad smile, knowing her intentions all too well. "Can't always get heroes out of people, Michonne."
"I'm not asking you to be. Nor anyone else. Nobody asked you to be a hero when you saved Judith. I just wonder if you're trying to be."
Wavering, he dips his head to focus on the floor.
"And my daughter… If you stayed, you'd be staying for her too, I know that." Michonne didn't have to like whatever relationship they had, but it had saved her life when Michonne couldn't. It provided some comfort to know that if the worst ever happened to her, another would help to take care of Judith, keep her safe, protect her. The girl became a priority to him, and admittedly, she was grateful for that.
Michonne's warm manner was so unexpectedly inviting, like morning sun, that he found himself faltering, as though the optimistic woman from years ago began shining through the cracks again. Upon meeting Rick, he cursed the lucky bastard to encounter a woman like her when the world went to shit. Following on from captivity, slowly uncovering the kind of woman she truly is, the prick undoubtedly fucking was. Even if it wasn't much, Negan was learning who Michonne was behind the sword and she was certainly fascinating enough that he desired to know more. Then there's Judith Grimes, the little renegade that knew much of himself more than anyone had in a long time. He'd grown fond of her, practically adored her. She had reminded him so much of Carl and was a splitting resemblance to her mother sometimes.
"Huh. Sure sounds a lot like you wouldn't want me to leave, either." Negan teases, a dangerous smile forming when he knows he has her.
You think that's what this is? - was what intended to pass the gateway of her lips. Instead, a heavy silence settles over them, thicker than the rising tension. Michonne eventually huffs. "It's not about what I want."
"No? Come on." Her persistent denial stirs him further, claiming victory while chuckling darkly. Though she doesn't budge. "Damn. Always so serious. That's gotta be exhausting."
"In case you hadn't noticed, there's not much to laugh about these days."
"Now, that's where you're wrong, dreads. Never fucking stopped me. When you start dangling your balls when the worlds at your feet again, you start finding your own ways of fun."
"Believe me, I recall what you found fun." She stares dispassionately, not all too fond of remembering such times.
The former saviour laughs again mischievously. "I'll bet you do. And I think you ought to enjoy yourself a whole lot more. Can't be good being this pent up all the damn time." Eyes slip down to rake her form, mentally undressing her slowly. Maybe she'd love nothing more than to constrict her hands around his neck, on the spot. Unashamedly, the image as well as his swirling vulgar thoughts stir excitement in him.
A familiar flush pools at her abdomen, grunting annoyingly at her body's betrayal. That and the involuntary twitch at the corner of her lip. "You're insufferable."
"Yes I am. And you love that shit, don't you?"
"You sound so sure about that." She returns mockingly, wanting to strip that smug look away.
"My ass is sure of things you ain't even yourself."
Michonne shakes her head, looking away. "The hell do you think you know?" Her dispute holds no aggression, however.
"I know that this, right now, my ass in your kitchen," Negan starts, gesturing again. "In your goddamn home where you sleep. It ain't all Judith."
Michonne's jaw tenses. Once again, standing before him, she feels exposed. A twisted turn of fate that Negan was the person to understand her more than anyone recently, what she wanted for the community, what she had done for the sake of everyone here. For her family. For Judith. Not all on his own probably, Michonne figures her daughter may have shared stories about her too, perhaps not intentionally, but she had her suspicions from the moment Negan locked eyes with the samurai that day and stated she'd been through more than enough already. Michonne catches the man leaning forward from her being silent for too long, snapping her head up.
"Look. I ain't here to tell you what you feel, I'm not on that shit. Plenty of sentimental pricks 'round here to do that. But sure as hell, there's something going on." Negan's eyes are dark but somehow soft, a sense of security in them while searching for any indication to what's running through her mind. "Whatever it is, it ain't worth foolin' yourself over. That kind of shit eats you up and shits you out. I don't think you want that."
The man was contagious. A curse of the simple knowledge that spending enough time in someone's presence, you'll start to tolerate them. However, listening to his surprisingly tender voice, Michonne finds herself at a loss. No matter the rational side of her brain reminding her that he was the same man to kill her friends, among other things that she would never forgive him for. Yet the ugly truth was she had been tied to Negan for a while now and wasn't entirely opposed to it. Because of her role here, she'd somehow isolated herself while he had a certain magnetism that drew her in gradually and began stripping Michonne of her defences as years progressed. Rescuing her daughter was simply the pinnacle.
"All I'm saying is you can kill the act now, sweetheart. Ain't nobody here, but you and me." A voice strangely soft, barely a whisper.
"I don't… know." Michonne mumbles, feelings she couldn't explain nor desire to confront, caught in her throat.
The older man's burning stare pins her in place, absorbed and examining. The way their eyes bore into each other's for what felt like an eternity, seems to ignite something within Negan as Michonne's breath hitches when he begins closing the distance. Feet planted in place, she follows every movement like a hawk. Electricity surging between them when Negan incredibly boldly plants a hand on her slim waist. Despite the unexpectedness, she doesn't apply distance, nor object, only staring in awe, surprise and flicking her eyes down to his lips in proximity. The action is quick, but he catches on as his pupils dilate, seemingly ready to drown in her if she lets him. The confliction is clear as day on Michonne's face, clear she would't be making a move.
With lingering silence, her world collapses at the man slowly leaning in, gentle contact of his vulgar lips pressing to her own. The feeling is enough to accelerate her already hammering heart, thundering in her ears. Upon realising she hadn't yet shoved him away, Negan melts into her with a sigh, pulling her muscular body closer. Too long to have been dancing around this desire, he was glad to be long past the days of her frigidness, finally conceding what they both already knew.
Negan's deep voice is like dripping silk. "Knew you'd loosen up for me sooner or later."
"Asshole…" Michonne respires.
How this had escalated, she couldn't answer, but as he deepens the kiss, her body and mind just, selfishly demand more, seeking more of that touch from another person. She should stop this. She should but can't bring herself to do so. Before she'd even grasped, Michonne had reached out to cup his face as if to hold him there, her face scrunching up at the rising, burning passion that was ensuing between them. Her mind goes into automatic while Negan's heart pounds in his chest so hard it threatens to burst, scolding himself for not doing this sooner. Finding her so intoxicating he couldn't help but press harder into the kiss, like screaming out all his repressed, puzzling feelings that endangered to surface.
Michonne had more than gained his respect and admiration the longer he remained in Alexandria – hell, even before then - something many hadn't since everything began. How much of a survivor she was, her determination as a leader, what bridges she would cross for those beloved to her, never taking shit lying down with her fiery spirit and unafraid to spill the necessary blood… so goddamn how can the man not find her fucking incessantly attractive? There was something else he was confident he'd lost along the way of surviving, incapable of feeling again. Yet for this woman, behind bars, it only devoured him to this breaking point.
When Michonne fully succumbs to her cravings, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, a quiet groan escaping her, Negan takes the initiative and runs his wandering hands down her sides eagerly. Tracing and exploring every inch of Michonne's stunning curves, dazed sighs escaping as his growing excitement was already beginning to strain against the confinement of his pants. Suddenly everything else is irrelevant and non-existent to him in this moment.
He wanted her. Right here.
A small brush against his crotch as Michonne shifts on the spot, steals a breath out of him. "Shit." He hisses, a shiver travelling down his spine. Jesus Christ. The moment his fingertips graze her sickly scar to run up her bare slender back, he expects her to flinch. But there's nothing.
Without a second thought, Negan pushes her backwards until the back of her haunches collide with the island, driving out a shaky exhalation from the gorgeous woman. The stench of lust fills the air around them, her body moving on its own accord as she grinds into him firmly, finding a friction that sends delicious jolts through her entire body. Pulling away for air, Negan sways his lips against the nape of her neck in a surprisingly gentle way, stirring more of that familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach. A single moment when Michonne feels the scruff of his stubble, lips against her skin, the slow, steady drag of his tongue, she sighs huskily, tilting her head back in bliss to expose more.
The small sound was enough to shoot another rush of hot blood down south like a damn shock, rousing the famished beast further. Fuck. She trying to make him bust a nut in his fucking pants here? He can't wait any fucking longer. Any other occasion he'd wanna take his sweet ass time. Make the samurai cave beforehand, watch her fall apart again and again, but he's too damn impatient and desperate for that right now, wanting to take her before she came back to her senses.
Slipping hands under her perfect ass, he hoists her up effortlessly onto the counter top, Michonne bracing her arms behind her for balance. Negan practically rips at Michonne's leggings with her help, yanking them along with her underwear down her parting legs like his life depended on it and tosses them both to the cold, hard floor beneath them. Diving back in to kiss her hungrily, he settles himself between her luscious thighs, hiking one up securely around his hip while panting from anticipation as he targets his belt buckle next. Pride washes over in finding her more than ready, yearning for this as much as he had, inner thighs glistening with her nectar. Wasting no time after lowering his fly, the material sinking down over his hips, Negan lines up his aching length against her heat, drenching himself in her sweet juices as he rubs between her pink, lush lips.
Leaning down until their foreheads were almost touching, with a small thrust and strained grunt, he enters her slick, tight channel. The feeling was euphoric. "Holy fuck..." Negan breathes a moan, mouth hanging agape. "Goddamn. You are tight as hell."
The samurai can't hold back the dazed sigh that passes her lips at the intrusion, wrapping her bare legs around him like a vice, their bodies interlocking. Metal clicks of his loose, dangling belt ring in her ears with each pump of his hips, slipping in and out of her entrance with ease. Though still captive, the way Michonne's bust bounces and sways at the force of his ministrations, the loud, slick noises between them, turn him on that much more. Negan's hands are like fire against her smooth ebony skin, as she dips her own under his shirt and claws at his back, dragging her nails down his skin for leverage. The feelings wreaking havoc on her body are indescribable, losing herself completely in the high as she rides his white shirt up his torso somewhat, but his body is indulgent, incapable of pulling away once more to discard it. Stealing her plump lips once again in a sexually charged kiss, Negan growls, fucking her harder that she hardly knows what to do with herself. Michonne rocks her pelvis hard in time with his movements and fights back into the kiss, battling for control. He could only expect that from her, impassioned with every second of it.
"Fuck. Shit." A string of curses pass through gritted teeth, dipping his hand to stimulate her swollen nub in circular motions, making her thighs tremble around him with a staggered gasp. He could almost laugh, recalling past, shameless fantasies of ravaging Rick's proud warrior with reckless abandon during the time the prick bent over backwards for him. Behind Negan's wicked grins were primal urges to put the man to shame, every time Michonne graced them with her presence. And yet, there was no trace of those intentions now.
Wanting to see her face, Negan moves over her thick dreadlocks, watching her twist in all kinds of ecstasy beneath him as he drives deeper into her body with a choked groan, trying to reach the deepest parts of what she felt for him. Goes without saying she would've never let anything remotely close to this happen if there wasn't something at her core. Nevertheless, someone as strong and ruthless as her shaking and squirming in pleasure he was providing her, was something unforgettable, locking the image away in his mind for the rest of the time he had left. Hell, the feeling of Michonne's clasping walls enveloping his dick was an addiction all on its own. Gradually getting rougher, Negan lifts one of her legs onto the countertop to stretch her out further, finding an unquenchable need to please her.
"God, fuck. You like that, huh?" He purrs, mouth moving quicker than his thoughts, unable to contain his satisfaction when all Michonne can do is groan in reply, if even attempting to. "Yeah, you do ~ "
It wasn't at all surprising to find him vocal during sex, but every passing word drove her body wild. Michonne can feel her toes curling from pleasure, unable to speak nor process anything, drunk on the sensation of him filling that sweet spot over and over. The head of his cock suddenly prodded at her cervix, forcing another sudden moan out of her that earns her one in return. Gnawing hard at her lower lip, it's all she can do to keep herself from crying out, catching his intense eyes. In the end, barely managing two simple words in a hoarse voice. "D-Don't stop."
"No fucking way, sweetheart…" Negan replies with a breathless chuckle, feeling his grin turn into another deep groan as he drowns further into ecstasy. This woman was gonna be the death of him.
In the heat of the moment, a sheer determination to make her cry out his name overcomes him, announce her pleasure to the community outside as Negan ploughs into her, staring down at where they were joined, her arousal coating every inch of his shaft. An addictive mix of pain and pleasure shooting through him at Michonne digging her heels into the base of his spine, pushing him ever closer.
However, to his dismay, he was already reaching close to his limit, wishing they could indulge for hours. Demanding thrusts lose their rhythm as the pressure builds, guttural growls in his throat while digging fingers into her thigh. A strong itch to flip Michonne over and pin her to the counter with her back arched and ass propped in the air soon conquered his thoughts.
"Fuck, Michonne…" Negan's voice falls frail with approaching release, not letting up as he continues pounding her, determined to make her finish with him while having a sudden animalistic, overwhelming desire to mark her with his seed.
Why had her name sounded so pleasing coming from Negan like that?
Michonne feels the bubble in her loins growing ready to burst as her breaths grow shallow and desperate, her blood singing as she clings to him tighter as if eagerly trying to fuse their bodies together. The build was almost unbearable as her body teases her, but it all came tumbling down when a distinct noise travels within the house.
Dread sinks in at the sound of the young Grimes herself upstairs, footsteps making their way out of her room, down the creaking hall, to the staircase as she calls out.
"Mom…?"
Both freeze at the realisation of their situation. As much as it was the best fucking sensation, Negan didn't want to be that guy caught balls deep inside her mother. Pulling out from her heat and wrenching himself away with a curse under his breath, fumbling fingers begin fixing his belt and zipping up his fly.
Oh God. With a look of terror, Michonne follows with wide eyes and hops off the counter to pull her leggings back on. Heart jumping in her throat, she spots her underwear on the floor, quickly brushing it around the corner with her foot and out of sight. Judith finally appears halfway down the steps, pausing at the scene. In that moment Michonne wishes the ground to open and swallow her whole. It must've meant RJ was home too. She almost hurls at the notion of potentially scarring her children.
"Hey kiddo." Negan greets, managing to smile with a weak hand up in a wave. Judging by Michonne's reaction, she hadn't been expecting other company.
She tilts her head. "Mom? Why's he here?" Judith questions, glancing between them before focusing on Michonne. She doesn't seem particularly bothered by his presence, just curious. Rightfully curious.
Ah, shit. Negan stared at the floor, the awkward air setting in as Michonne tries to come up with an answer. Only when she speaks does he finally steal glance from the corner of his eye, shifting uncomfortably. With how much he stuck out of place, an overwhelming sense of unbelonging and that he shouldn't be here, he might as fucking well been caught with his pants down.
"Judith, why don't you wait upstairs for me, okay sweetie? We'll talk later. I just need a minute." She silently prays for Judith to have been oblivious, suddenly grateful Negan had taken lead as she attempted to control her breathing, feeling a flush on her cheeks.
The silence that followed was unbearably drawn out that Michonne practically squirmed on the spot, like a teenager caught in the act. While it was evident the girl didn't wish to leave, ready to spew all sorts of interrogations, she obeys anyway with a dramatic sigh, turning on her heel to head upstairs slowly.
Only when Judith was out of sight, not delaying with the intent of eavesdropping, Negan finally turned back to her with words on the tip of his tongue. As fucking much as he desired to continue what they started, he knew the moment was over and the mood was ruined. Her plastered expression right now wasn't making anything any easier, evidently processing what just transpired. That look was a sight he pained to see right now. Seemingly, Judith had snapped her back to reality.
"Michonne – "
"Don't." She interrupts with a whisper, not moving another inch from where she stood, fearing her legs may cave in. Although unable to look at the man, Michonne could feel the full force of his gaze on her. There was no trace of guilt in there, but of course why would there be? "Don't. Just, not now."
Absentmindedly, she sought assurance and something to ground her as her hand reaches for the ring dangling on her necklace - only to find it hadn't been there in the first place. The one, damn time she took it off earlier today... The bile in her gullet only grew worse as Michonne was forced to see what she'd let persist. It was still here staring her in the face and words could not describe the shame she felt. If their meeting had taken place in the underground cell, providing them the barrier they needed to stop them in their tracks, this wouldn't have happened. Everything felt up to this moment, bubbling beneath the surface, was all one traitorous act.
Despite the gut feeling telling him to try reasoning with her, Negan knows it to be ineffective. Michonne hadn't sounded angry, but he was given the impression she was sinking into a bottomless sea of regret as she appeared horrified with herself. Furthermore, he sensed his casualness about the act making things worse, 'course he had no reason to feel ashamed about it. She just became to be someone he gave a shit about.
A breath he hadn't known to be holding finally escapes. "I get it." Negan spoke softly despite his growing frustration and unwillingness to depart, but given the circumstances, he was overstaying his welcome at this point. It took all his restraint to not reach out for her. "Look. She doesn't need to know anything if you don't want her to."
Water under the bridge, huh? She didn't respond. She couldn't possibly fathom how her daughter would react if she knew. Then again what if she did already? She was a perceptive girl. Either way, there was no escaping it.
While remaining frozen in place, Michonne manages to lift her head enough to stare at his chest while nodding. Eventually, Negan decided to leave the house with the biggest fucking set of blue balls upon ever receiving, Michonne's aroma still clinging to him, torturing him. As Negan trudges his way to another waiting escort back to his cell, it was obviously apparent of his raging hard on, but he couldn't give two fucks. Resolving that issue later, he sure as shit wasn't sleeping tonight. All he could do was hope Michonne wouldn't stray away again… Not after this.
.
.
Using her best efforts to deflect the subject and sneak around Judith for now, Michonne needed the solitude. As the water cascaded down her slender form, like a warm, comforting embrace, her sighs filled the stall. Despite lingering under the spray, Negan just wouldn't leave. It did nothing to cleanse her mind. Instead, it tormented her, forced her to relive their conversation beforehand, how pleasant his lips felt pressed against her own, strong hands caressing her body, hot breaths colliding with her skin, every pleasurable sensation that took her somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Caught in her own daze, Michonne's jaw locks, finding her pulse racing once again and her hand having travelled south, a returning ache between her legs.
Had she become so lost to crave for companionship and the embrace of a lover again after so long? Or had it revolved around Negan? Either way, she hoped not. She'd been more than capable on her own before. Several years of it.
With an irritated flare of her nostrils, Michonne stepped back to lean against the frigid glass, holding herself as she stared down at the shower base, flowing streams of water escaping down the drain and almost wishing she could follow. I don't believe this. What the hell is wrong with you? She seethed, loathing how she dealt with pesky business with Negan along with their much bigger threat that may be lingering right outside their walls of any waking hour. She suddenly had an urge to slam her fist against the glass. She refused to shed a tear over this, refused to let it drag her through the mud. Now wasn't the time for anything trivial. There were far more pressing matters.
At last, dusk pierced the sky and the rash cold air stroked her skin as Michonne volunteers to take a post on patrol to occupy herself, staring out into the distance and keeping any walkers at bay. With Alpha and her people out there somewhere, anticipating Alexandria to not take their final warning, she keeps a watchful eye out, cautiously scanning her surroundings. Along every treeline. Waiting for something. Something to happen. Keeping her busy long enough on high alert, the sky ultimately fades into deep, black velvet, stretching for miles with speckling jewels above them.
That was when Michonne decided to sneak out briefly, scaling the walls to hunt again, when her mind was troubled and restless. Guaranteed not the wisest decision considering their situation, Michonne doesn't wander far. Evidently, she hadn't been making the wisest decisions recently anyway. When all else failed, she always found strength from the dead. They helped her focus, since there was no one way or the other, no complicated way to feel about them. How messed up the situation was to find a sense of comfort in seeking out and putting down the walking corpses this way. A small feeling of dread reappeared that night at the haunting thought that any roamer she encountered could've potentially been one of them.
Returning home once sated, she began her routine of cleaning her stained blade and rinsing the repulsive blood and odour from her body. Feeling refreshed and more at ease, Michonne slipped into a comfortable, silver white bathrobe and wandered upstairs to put RJ to bed. Another breather she needed for the night.
With an innocent smile, the little boy curls up under the covers. "Goodnight, mommy."
"Night, baby." She whispered with a kiss to his temple, admiring his peaceful slumber for a second and stroking his dark hair. Michonne always loved the way his chubby little cheek would stick out as he pressed his face to the soft pillow. Maybe their innocence would bring back her own. "Sleep well." Although adamant to leave, she knew Judith was expecting her.
Unfortunately, Michonne didn't make it far before thoughts of Negan haunted her again in apprehension. That vision always there whenever she closed her eyes. She'd somehow allowed a small window of weakness to... The guilt hit her all at once again, feeling nauseous and perplexed at what hellish feelings she held towards the man. Apparently, not alone in working that out either. While Michonne remained clueless to what Negan truly felt behind that mischievous grin, she never felt more like a spark was returning than in his presence. Absolution from her usual days of being nothing more than a dead husk of a person, retreating into her shell to carry on as leader.
Finally returning to her daughter, mustering all the courage to look her in the eye, she forces down the restless ponders. As soon as Michonne enters Judith's cosy, light room and her eyes befell on the young girl's face, it suddenly felt as though she hadn't a worry in the world. Her bedroom was small and minimalist, containing an equally small single bed tidily made, the air carrying a scent of clean linen. A worn oak desk and drawers' tucked against the wall, the wall that was once scattered with childish scribbles and paintings she treasured. All those little memories.
"Hey, you." Michonne greeted warmly, only to be met with silence. She follows Judith's gaze to the hanging drawing made of their family years ago. Her face drops within a second before composing herself, despite not a look shared her way. "You should be in bed."
"So, should you."
"Oh? Well you better get in bed now, then." Michonne arches a brow, cracking a wide smile. "Brushed your teeth?"
"Mhm." She nods.
"Good. Come on, I'll read you a bedtime story." Michonne pats her cheek affectionately, already walking over to the small stack located on Judith's desk, browsing through the various titles with a thoughtful hum.
Judith pulls a face but climbs into bed nonetheless, sitting upright and holding the covers close. "Aren't I too old for that, now?"
Michonne pivots on the spot to her with feigned offence. "Hey. You're never too old for stories. Anyway, it's for me." She did her best to smile, lifting a chair and moving it beside her bed before setting herself down.
"Why? You okay?"
No. While her mind screamed otherwise, she nodded, reaching out to thread their fingers together tenderly for reassurance. She felt her face relax, the simple touch and warmth of her daughter always keeping her grounded. "Yeah, course. Just, long day." Michonne exhaled tiredly, pausing for a breath with a curious tilt of her head. "Sweetie, I thought you and RJ were with Aaron and Gracie today?"
"We were, but we finished early. I wanted to do my homework and RJ wanted to come home. He got really tired, so he took a nap."
"I see."
There's another pause. Judith looks troubled the more she searches her mother's face, leaning in. "Mom? I know you don't wanna tell me."
Michonne's heart stops. With a painful seizing in her chest, it's indisputable the child spots the flash of fear behind her usually collected eyes. She wouldn't feign ignorance to what she's referring to at this point, she knew her daughter all too well, she was no idiot. Flicking attention to a crease on the pale sheets, Michonne sighed deeply.
"Why Negan was here." Judith continued.
She shook her head slowly, treading carefully. "It's complicated. I needed to talk with him, it was important in light of everything."
"About what?"
"Whether or not he's willing to help us."
"With the bad guys?" She frowns almost judgingly, replaced with confusion in a flash. "I thought you didn't trust him. You said everything he said was bullshit."
"Judith Grimes." Michonne warned, brows raised high on her head.
"Sorry."
"…I'm learning." She says weakly with a short nod, still difficult to decipher whether Michonne does or not.
"Why? What changed?"
She wouldn't know where to begin, nor where to satisfy Judith's curiosity. Honestly, she would like to know the answer herself. "I did. I just finally started listening, to what you were telling me. And dealing with this kind of group, people like them, what they can do, we need all the help, all the expertise we can get."
Suddenly devoid of emotion, her face becomes unreadable, glancing down at their joined hands. Michonne can't escape the feeling Judith's aware of more than she implies, stroking her thumb against her skin delicately. If so, she's making an endeavour to hide it.
"Is it what my dad would've wanted?" She leans over to slide open a drawer to take out the miniature sheriff, handing it over.
Michonne felt another pang of sorrow, fingers running over the figurine so carefully at the fear of it breaking any moment. Rick. I'm so sorry. For the sake of her sanity, she assured herself that Negan wasn't the same haughty, loathsome man he was during the war, not that it made much of a difference. It held no barrier to her wrongful attraction. Nothing killed a man more than his own head.
"Maybe. Your dad would always do the hardest things so no one else had to."
"So, have you. I know I said it wasn't right what you were doing; sending people away, turning our backs and not helping the others. Our friends. But no matter what, you're always trying to keep everyone safe, you'll do what you think is right." Judith bows her head. "I know that. I just wanted my mom back."
What was even right anymore? The lines were beginning to blur again.
"There's been instances where, I thought I wasn't the person your dad thought I was." Michonne murmured, wondering if all Judith saw was a woman struggling. "Times where I felt lost. Dead and gone."
The young Grimes furrows her brow, shuffling closer with a creak from her bedframe.
"You helped bring me back from this before and now you're doing it again." She chuckled shakily from staggering emotions. Michonne's mind abruptly flashes back to the first time she embraced Judith, how she held her desperately close to her cheek as she wept for her own child, finally mourning. Now.. through all this she'd gained a daughter. A family. With a deep breath, Michonne tapped her fingers against the hardcover. "Come on, it's late."
Although there were many things left unspoken, it was a step, in which direction remained ambiguous. Michonne peels open the book and begins reading through the pages, a little wear and tear but good enough. She knows to anticipate another talk on the horizon, she could recognise it on Judith's face every time she glanced in her direction. But that was for another day. Additionally, like it or not, Michonne acknowledged she was to make a reluctant return to that cell soon.